Chapter 7

DONOVAN

Trevor shut my office door behind us and then slumped against it. "Oh my God, that was intense!"

I smirked as I shrugged out of my jacket. He reached for it automatically, hanging it on the back of the door. He followed me over to my desk and sat down across from me as he continued, the gleam of excitement making his blue eyes even more vibrant than usual.

"Seriously, I don't know how you do that all the time. Those people were so intimidating. But you acted like it was nothing and you fielded all their questions like a pro."

"Thanks. I like to think I know what I'm doing," I said dryly.

The sound of his deep chuckle made my stomach dip pleasantly. "Of course you do. It is your company after all. I just meant I was impressed with how well you handled everything. I would have been a nervous mess."

I shrugged offhandedly as I began sifting through the mail on my desk. "The members of the board are all bluster. They like to come in and act superior, but they've made a ton of money off my ideas, and they know it. Even if they disagreed with something, they'd give me their support because they trust my judgement."

"Well, I thought you were amazing!"

My eyes flitted to his. "I didn't do it alone. You put a lot of time and effort into the presentation, and I appreciate that. You did a great job today."

Trevor ducked his head shyly, but not before I saw the smile that spread across his face. "Thanks."

"Of course, this will mean even more work for us. Now that we have the board's approval, we'll need to set up a time to visit the company and go over the plans."

"Wait! You mean I'm going with you? But the company is in Paris."

My eyes narrowed as I leaned back in my chair, steepling my fingers together under my chin. "Is that a problem? I believe I did mention travel was a requirement of the job."

"No, it's not a problem. I was…I'm just surprised, that's all. I've never been to Paris. I've never been anywhere, really."

"Well, I suggest you spend this afternoon getting your passport in order then," I replied gruffly. I wasn't sure why, but the thought of being the one to get to show him Paris made me extremely happy, which should have been a warning sign to me.

Trevor grinned despite my surly attitude. "Yes, Mr. Marshall. Would you like me to order lunch for you first?"

"Yes, please. Nothing too heavy though. I have dinner plans tonight."

Trevor's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "I don't remember seeing a meeting on the schedule tonight."

"That's because it's not a business meeting. This dinner is more of a personal nature."

"That's nice. Is it with someone special?"

"Yes, she is," I answered absentmindedly as I began leafing through the mail on my desk.

"She?"

My head snapped up at the shock in his voice. "Is there a problem?"

"No, I just…I mean, I thought…" Trevor's face flushed crimson as he realized his mistake.

I arched an eyebrow at him. "You thought what?"

"That you were…single. Yes, I assumed you were single. Not that there's a reason you would be single. I mean, you're a great guy. Anyone would be lucky to?—"

"Mr. Reed."

"Yes?"

"Go order lunch."

"Yes, Mr. Marshall."

Somehow, I managed to wait until he'd shut the door behind him before I laughed. Jesus, it should be criminal to be that adorable. Especially, when there was fuck-all I could do about my worrisome attraction towards him.

The rest of the afternoon went by in a rush of phone calls and meetings until the door opening drew my attention. Trevor cautiously stepped in. "Excuse me, Mr. Marshall, but I took the liberty of picking up a couple of things for your date."

"My what?"

"Your date. You said you had a dinner date with a special lady."

"Oh, that. Yes, I do. But…what do you mean you picked some things up?"

He walked in and with a grin, presented me with a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates he had hidden behind his back. My eyes darted from his face to the items and back again. "Why did you get these?"

His grin turned almost shy. "Well, I admittedly haven't dated much, but I think it's pretty universal date etiquette to show up with some flowers or candy. At least, that's what I would do if I were wooing someone."

"Wooing? Did I somehow end up in a time machine and go back to 1940?" I said dryly.

Trevor laughed and I found the sound much more appealing than I had a right to. "Okay, so maybe wooing isn't the right word anymore, but the sentiment is the same. If you want to impress your special lady, you should bring her these."

"Yes, well, this isn't that kind of date," I informed him as I began packing up my briefcase. I still had several hours of work left to do that night, but Trevor was right. I needed to get going if I didn't want to be late. I'd work on the rest later at home.

"Oh? What kind—Oooooh! I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

I glanced up at him, confused. "What are you talking—wait! Did you think I was referring to some kind of hook up?"

His cheeks turned an alarming shade of red and he looked like he wasn't sure how to answer that. "Well…yeah?"

"Jesus!" I muttered, rubbing a hand over my face. "Okay, let's get a couple of things straight, shall we? First, if this was a hook up—which it most certainly is not—it would be completely inappropriate to discuss it with you given that I am your boss and you, my employee."

Trevor nodded sagely. "Yes, Mr. Marshall."

"As for the second thing. Not that it's any of your business, but I'd like to avoid any future misunderstandings as far as these things go. The woman I'm having dinner with—the only woman in my life—is my mother."

Understanding dawned across his features, followed by a look of horror. "I'm so sorry, sir. I never meant to insinuate…especially, about your mother…and you…Oh, God! I need to stop talking."

His face registered shock as I suddenly barked out a laugh, but I couldn't help myself. He was way too cute when he got flustered. "It's okay. Like I said, I just didn't want you making that mistake again."

"Never, Mr. Marshall. Again, I apologize."

I waved him off. "It's fine. Plus, it's not all for nothing. I'll score some extra brownie points with my mom when I show up with these." I gestured towards the items he still held in his hands.

He handed them over with a self-deprecating laugh. "At least I did something right."

"You've done plenty right. You're an asset to this company and to me."

His smile was practically beaming. "Thank you. I really appreciate the opportunity and I want to do a good job for you."

I scooted my chair back and stood up. "You're doing fine. Now, I really do need to get going and I'm sure you're anxious to start your weekend. I hope you have a good one."

"Thank you, Mr. Marshall. You too."

"Would you like some more chicken?" Mom asked hopefully.

I set my fork down and leaned back in my chair. "No, thank you. I'm full. It was delicious. Was that a new recipe?"

"Yes! Sharon told me about it. She makes it for her family, and they love it."

Aunt Sharon was my mom's best friend and my godmother. They'd worked together for years and even after they stopped working, remained pretty much inseparable.

Sharon and her husband, Clifford, and their children had been the closest thing I'd ever had to family outside of my mother, which was why I'd taken to calling her Aunt Sharon as a kid. She loved me like I was her own, a feeling which was completely mutual.

"Well, I do too. Feel free to make it for me anytime you want," I joked.

"Noted." Her eyes crinkled along the edges as she smiled, bringing a warm feeling to my chest.

At fifty-three, my mother was still a beauty with waist-length blonde hair, eyes the same color as mine, and a delightful dimple that appeared in her right cheek whenever she grinned.

Teenage fumbling in the back seat of her boyfriend's car had led to my existence. Her boyfriend quickly denied he was the father and her parents; devout Catholics had insisted she give the baby up for adoption. When she refused, they kicked her out of the house.

Terrified and alone, my mother had discovered a halfway house for pregnant teens. There, they took care of her and provided her with proper prenatal care until it was time for me to be born.

After, they helped her find a job, working as a secretary for a doctor. The kind old man took a liking to my mom, telling her she reminded him of his own daughter who lived in Florida. Not only did he give my mom a job, but he also offered her the apartment above his clinic for free.

Mom always credited Dr. Klein and the women at the halfway house with saving our lives. And while it's true they definitely helped, I knew it was my mother's hard work and unwavering devotion to me that had made the difference.

"What have you been working on lately?"

Her face lit up with excitement. "I've been trying my hand at welding."

"You're kidding!"

"Nope! Sharon and I took a class at the community rec center to learn how. Come on, I'll show you."

My mom was a creative genius who excelled at many different mediums including oil painting, glass blowing, and clay sculpting. I, on the other hand, could barely draw a stick figure.

Curious, I followed her out to the large rustic-looking barn which served as her craft space. I'd had it built a few years ago as a birthday present, using old barn wood I'd purchased from a farm in Montana.

It had come with a hefty price tag, but the look on her face when it was finished was totally worth it. As was the house I bought her after I'd gotten my company up and running.

I knew she'd grown tired of living in the city, so I'd found a place a few miles outside the corporation limits. Close enough for me to visit often but far enough away to give her the open space she craved.

She'd argued with me both times, of course, not wanting me to spend so much money on her, but she had spent her life taking care of me, working two jobs to help put me through college. Now, it was my turn to take care of her. Besides, spoiling the only person I'd ever loved made me happy.

"This is what I've made so far."

She pointed to her workbench where at least fifty tiny metal sculptures were lined up. Caterpillars, windmills, bicycles, and a funny one of a person reading a book while sitting on a toilet.

I bent down to take a closer look. Each one had been skillfully welded together using ordinary objects such as nuts, bolts, and metal springs then hand painted to give them a beautiful finish.

"These are incredible," I gushed.

Mom grinned. "Eh, some of them look a bit rougher than others, but I'm finally getting the knack of this welding thing. There's a craft show next month in Hobart Village. Sharon and I thought maybe we'd set up a table there, see if anyone would be interested in buying some of our stuff."

"They'd be fools not to. Seriously, Mom, this is amazing. I'm awed by the fact that you can look at this stuff—which most people would think was junk—and see a way to put it all together to make something new."

Her cheeks pinked under my praise, but her green eyes were brimming with pride. "Thanks, honey. I'm glad you like them."

"I honestly do. Just promise me you'll be safe using the welder. Especially when you're here alone."

Mom shook her head with a smile that was full of love. "Thank you, but you worry too much. I'm always very careful. I promise."

"You're my mom and I love you, so I'm allowed to worry." I wrapped my arms around her, engulfing her tiny frame in a big hug. Her head fit perfectly under my chin as her arms circled my waist.

I breathed in the familiar scents of rosewater lotion, her favorite strawberry shampoo, and acrylic paints. It should have been an odd combination, but to me, it was a reminder of home-cooked meals, bedtime stories, and unconditional love.

A loud yawn escaped before I could stop it and Mom took a step back, cupping my cheek with her hand. "You need to go home and get some sleep. That's the third time you've yawned since you got here. You're clearly exhausted."

"I do need to get going, but I still have a few things to take care of before I call it a night."

Concern pulled the corners of her mouth down and I knew what she was going to say before she spoke. We'd had the same conversation a million times before. "You work too much, sweetie. There's so much more to life."

"Says the woman who worked two or three jobs sometimes while I was growing up," I reminded her.

She swatted at my chest then looped her arm through mine, leading me out of the barn and back into the house. "I worked so much because I was poor and had a child to feed. You're young, wealthy, and extremely handsome if I do say so myself. You should be going out, meeting new people, and dating lots of gorgeous men." She waggled her eyebrows at that last part, making me laugh.

"Why, Mother, are you trying to pimp me out?" I teased.

Her laughter echoed around the kitchen as she pulled out some plastic containers and began filling them with leftovers. It didn't matter that I could afford to eat in the finest restaurants every night, my mom always insisted on sending me home with leftovers. It was just one of the many ways she showed her love for me.

Her tone turned serious once again. "No. I simply want you to enjoy yourself more. I hate seeing you working yourself so hard all the time."

"Well, hopefully, I can cut back on a few things soon. I hired a new personal assistant and he's proved to be quite competent. He's already taken on a lot of responsibility."

The relief in Mom's eyes was evident. "Oh, honey! That's fantastic! What's his name?"

"Trevor Reed." His name rolling off my tongue sparked images of the man in my head from the first day we'd met.

Sitting across from me at my desk, dirty-blond hair falling over his forehead as he furiously scribbled notes. Eyes the color of a cloudless day peering up at me nervously as I demanded to know who he was and why he was there. That full bottom lip lifting into a grin when I offered him the job.

Mom's hand on my arm pulled me from my reverie. She stared at me curiously and I realized she must have been talking while I zoned out. "Sorry. Guess I have a lot on my mind."

"I was just giving you these," she said, handing me the leftovers. Concern lined her face. "Are you sure you'll be okay driving home?"

"I'll be fine. Thanks again for dinner. I love you." I gave her a quick kiss then walked out to the driveway and climbed behind the wheel of my Porsche.

Usually, I loved the drive to and from my mom's house. The roads along the countryside allowing me to really open her up in ways I couldn't do in the congested city.

But this time I was too distracted. Shaken by the path my thoughts had taken as soon as I'd spoken Trevor's name. I had no business thinking about his mouth…or any other part of his body for that matter. My cock twitched as my brain tried to take me on a path of imagining his body and what might be hidden under those dress clothes of his.

I pushed those thoughts away with a frustrated groan. Maybe I simply needed to give a swap party another try. I'd been working double time lately, barely having time to eat or sleep, much less taking care of my baser needs. And even though it hadn't seemed to help much the last time, maybe this time would prove different.