In The Arms of a Donovan: A Sexy BBW Billionaire Family Series Romance (The Donovans Book 13) (4 page)

“Only the beautiful ones,” was his smooth response, which hit its desired mark because she was now smiling wildly.

“Good one,” she said by way of playing off the heat fusing her cheeks. “Just to be clear right off the bat, I’m not interested.”

She wasn’t. Even though he was probably too fine to toss back, she’d learned long ago to be very selective of the men she allowed in her private space. With that in mind, she moved her hands and feet, putting some distance between them.

He nodded, still treading water, looking around them as if something else might easily catch his attention. His way of playing off her rebuff, Amber was sure.

“That’s cool,” he replied. “Wanna race to the other side?”

Amber shook her head, wondering when this guy and his endless questions would eventually give up.

“No. I do not want to race.”

“Because you’re afraid you’ll lose?”

“No,” she told him with a smirk. “And I’m not easily baited.”

He nodded again.

“Okay, well…” He moved quickly then, reaching up a hand and slapping it over her shoulder, “Tag. You’re it!”

He’d spoken the words so loudly that the children around them heard and immediately joined in yelling, “She’s it! She’s it!”

Before Amber could say a word, argue, scream or simply get the hell out of the pool that she shouldn’t have gotten into in the first place, kids were swarming around, keeping their distance, and joining in the chant. “She’s it! She’s it!”

One look at Brandon’s grinning face and Amber wanted to push him under water and hold him down. She took off swimming towards him before she could think better of it. He swam away, of course and all the kids followed suit. They were all laughing and having a good time, so much so that Amber found it hard to not laugh herself.

“She’s it! She’s it!” sounded off again.

It came from different children, some to the right and then some to the left, each of them waving their hands in the air as if to show her that they were standing there and she couldn’t catch them. Well, they had another thought coming. Amber swam away again, this time going under water so that she could pop up and surprise one of the smarty-pants hellions. Instead, she was the one surprised when he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her front up close with his.

They surfaced together, his face just inches away from hers, his grin still wide, eyes full of mischief.

“Gotcha,” he said before leaning in and planting a loud kiss on the tip of her nose.

She didn’t pull away immediately, but instead made a big show of kissing him right back, smack on his smug lips. “No, Mr. Donovan, I got you and now you’re it!”

The children laughed once more and began chanting, “He’s it! He’s it!”

Amber did swim away from him this time, all the while smiling to herself as she made her way out of the pool. His hands had felt good on her and while his kiss was cute, the moment her lips touched his, something inside her was awakened. She couldn’t deny it if she’d wanted to, she thought as she made it to her lounge chair and hurriedly snatched up her hat and bag. She couldn’t deny the instant attraction, but she could certainly ignore it, and that’s exactly what she planned to do as she made her way out of the poolside area without daring a look back to the handsome Mr. Donovan.

He was there though. Watching her walk away again. She knew because she could feel the heat of his gaze on her. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach and along every curve of her body. She felt it and she savored it because that was as much as she intended to get from Brandon Donovan. That was a fact.

Chapter 3

Brandon straightened his tie and tried to look like he was at least slightly interested in what Tim Chavis, another executive at TJB and the only other black man at the table, was talking about. He wasn’t sure if it was luck or some cruel twist of fate that he’d been assigned to sit at the same table as Tim, Margaret Withers—who Brandon was convinced was a closet racist--, Bob Binds—a junior fund manager that had a stroke of luck this year and landed a billion dollar client for the firm, by marrying the client’s daughter—and Kylie Brenner—an HR rep. The HR reps composed the seating arrangements and made sure that someone from their department was at each table. This way they could keep tabs on who was being a team player and who was not. Hence, the reason Brandon was even here at all. He’d much rather have dinner in his room, or at one of the other restaurants where he wasn’t forced to talk to people about work the entire night.

As it was, they were seated in the luxuriously decorated three-level main dining room. Their table was on the lower level, one of many that surrounded a larger table beneath a huge crystal chandelier. The top brass of the company sat at the large table, all except for Tyson Braddock who owned the company. Ty and his wife Felicia were expecting their second child any day now, so Ty was—as Brandon thought he should be—at his wife’s side.

“We should have trips like this twice a year,” Tim was saying to Kylie, who only smiled in return and nodded her head.

Brandon figured Tim was an idiot on two counts. One, he was ridiculously drunk at eight thirty in the evening. And two, he was sitting right next to the HR rep that was no doubt going to report to her supervisor that he was ridiculously drunk at eight thirty in the evening. Idiot.

“I doubt Braddock would splurge for something like this again,” Margaret said in her annoyingly nasal voice.

“Actually,” Kylie spoke up, “Mr. Braddock is very interested in how everyone feels about trips such as this.”

Not at all swayed by the younger and prettier woman’s words, Margaret came back with, “Then why isn’t he here?”

Bob, whose wife was black, frowned. “His wife is having a baby, Margaret. Show a little compassion.”

Margaret waved a hand, the huge chocolate diamond ring on her third finger, glittering in the light. “It’s not the first one and the way they are, it probably won’t be the last.”

“The way who is?” Brandon immediately asked.

Margaret had been with the company for a little over a year. She was a transplant from another investment firm that Ty purchased. Which could explain why she had no loyalty to the man who had kept her in the same senior fund manager position, with most likely the same pay. But Brandon knew the real reason for her hostility. Some thought that this problem had been eradicated after the Civil Rights movement, others, the ones who suffered from this type of blatant racism the most, knew a different story.

Brandon, along with Courtney and Lester Johnson—Ty’s attorney—had been present at a meeting where complaints about Margaret’s racial slurs towards other employees had been discussed. Brandon was invited to that meeting because Ty wanted him to be on alert in case any clients had complaints about her in the future and wanted to remove their investments from the firm. It would then be a part of Brandon’s job to make sure that the separation was first, unsalvageable, and then if not, done in the most expeditious and legal fashion. As a result of that meeting Margaret had received a verbal reprimand. Brandon hadn’t been certain that would help and he figured another meeting with Ty might be necessary in the future. Margaret continually proved him right.

“Oh whatever,” she finally said, not bothering to look in Brandon’s direction. “Pay for your own damn trip, you certainly make more money than you’re worth!”

Tim’s response was to down another martini, after toasting his glass to the air in Margaret’s direction.

A little later, when they were just finishing dessert, the captain began speaking on a cordless microphone as he walked through the lower level of the dining room. The guy was tall and could quite possibly be a Liam Neeson look-a-like. He didn’t speak with the accent, but he moved toward the stage area at the head of the room like a man used to being in charge. He thanked guests for coming out tonight and expressed his hopes that they were enjoying their meal, all that kind of stuff. Brandon was beyond ready to leave. He was also worried about his father and thinking about a woman who he probably wouldn’t see again for the duration of this trip. To say he was distracted was an understatement. He’d just finished the glass of soda he ordered instead of an alcoholic beverage because one person wasted at this table was definitely enough. Bob was saying something about Tim slowing down and Tim made a remark, but Brandon didn’t hear it because everyone in the room had begun to applaud.

He immediately looked toward the stage, to see who or what was getting people so excited. When he saw her Brandon felt his own type of excitement, shooting straight to his crotch.

She smiled—a simple, yet gorgeous smile—and used a hand to push a long wavy lock of hair back from her face. The face that he remembered from earlier but now with make-up that gave her a glamorous appeal. The bottom half of her dress was an electric blue color that reached the floor. The top was white with a fitted black jacket. The wide belt at her waist was also black. Her silhouette was one delectable curve after another, a complete package of beauty and body, and he wanted it. He wanted with the urgency and single-mindedness of a kid at Christmas and sat up in his seat as if he might actually get up and go to her right at this moment. Of course, he didn’t. He had some sense left even though he’d swear every coherent thought had slipped like liquid from his mind, trickling down to…yes that was correct, his crotch.

“Thank you so much, Captain Fielding, for that wonderful presentation,” she said, her voice smooth like a glass of bourbon. “I’m honored to accept Pacifica Cruise Line’s donation to the My Big Is Beautiful Forever Foundation. As I have been traveling the world spreading the message that body shamming is not a laughing matter, I’ve been pleased to meet so many wonderful and generous people, such as yourself.”

He’d heard that name before, Brandon thought. He was certain, and while he watched her he continued to try and figure out where. She worked the crowd with her generous smile, her seductive voice and, he was mildly surprised, her words. Not that what she was saying wasn’t interesting, that was totally not the case. Brandon knew how hard it was to go through school with other children believing you should look and or act a specific way. Not that he’d been bullied or harassed, no, to the contrary, he’d simply been ignored. He was oftentimes the smartest one in his class, knowledge being akin to a deadly disease and all that. But there was a ‘type’ in this world, one which everybody thought each other should fit into and if they didn’t, then they were to be ostracized, criticized and basically condemned. It was all foolishness that Brandon had grown out of to an extent. Now, listening to Amber, he realized that it wasn’t that easy for some people.

“The CDC states that there are 78.6 million adults in the United States who are obese. My Big Is Beautiful Forever declares that there are quite possibly 78.6 million adults who are healthy and heavy and proud of it,” Amber said, her voice rising towards the end of the sentence. The crowd clapped vigorously in response.

“That’s not to say that we do not endorse a healthy lifestyle, we just do it without the condemnation and stigmatism that has run rampant throughout the world. We don’t all have to be the same size or have the same look or even talk the same talk. We were created to be different, to be bold and to overcome. That’s what My Big Is Beautiful Forever does for the plus-sized individuals, we empower, educate and motivate, because we’re all beautiful and we should all be proud of that fact!”

Clapping resumed once more with a woman across the room standing up in support of Amber’s words. She was a full figured woman with blonde-colored dreads hanging down the center of her back. Another woman of Asian heritage, who was shorter than Amber but still in the plus size range, wore gold bangles on both wrists, large hoops in her ears and her jet black hair twisted up in a bun, stood and applauded. In the next moments more people stood and Brandon joined them. Amber continued to smile as she shook hands with the captain and walked back to her seat. Brandon’s gaze followed her every move.

When the room had calmed down once more and some were actually starting to leave, Brandon stood and bid goodnight to the co-workers at his table.

“Where you going Big Brandon?” Tim asked, his words and body movements slurred and sloppy. “Back to your room? Oh, no, no, not you. Not the famous Donovan brotha. You’ve probably already got your eye on a piece of—”

Brandon clapped a hand hard on Tim’s shoulder before he could finish that sentence. “Good night, Tim,” he said forcefully.

“Jeez,” Tim complained, pulling out of Brandon’s grasp and almost falling over the table. “You ain’t gotta be all tough guy. I know how you Donovans roll. Hell, we all know how the Donovan men get down.” His last words were punctuated by a sickening thrust of his hips and winking of his eye as his tongue flapped out of his mouth.

Kylie rolled her eyes and Bob shook his head. Margaret frowned as she stood.

“You’re a disgrace,” Margaret told Tim. “And I am going to make sure your supervisor hears about this.”

Brandon couldn’t help but frown because while Margaret might have her ridiculous opinions about black people, Tim certainly wasn’t helping the situation. Now, Brandon was for sure going to have to speak to Courtney before the head of HR was tasked with firing Tim.

“Go sleep it off,” Brandon told Tim, when Margaret had left their little group. “In the morning you need to find Sheldon or any other supervisor in your department and do the next thing you do so well, kiss ass. Maybe you’ll manage to keep your job.”

Tim frowned at Brandon. “I’m not afraid of her and I don’t have to listen to the almighty Donovan either.”

This time spittle flew from his mouth as he spoke and Brandon backed away from him.

“Suit yourself,” he said before leaving the table and the fate of his co-worker behind. Sometimes, people just didn’t want to be helped.

Besides, Brandon had much better things to do with his time then try to save a man’s job when that man didn’t have sense enough to take the same precautions himself. Instead, Brandon had a gorgeous woman to find.

When Brandon next saw her, he was once again surprised. She had left the dining room and was standing near an elegant stairway where she posed for one picture after another. A photographer yelled directions to her and she seamlessly obeyed. From a very sultry look, with her head tossed back, all that long glossy black hair hanging loose, hands on her hip, to one where she was laughing riotously. Each shot played in his mind like a movie in the making. A movie that Brandon planned to watch over and over again.

“That’s it for tonight, babe. 10 a.m. tomorrow morning, don’t be late,” the photographer said to her.

She walked to him nodding. “I’m never late, Slyde, that’s usually you.”

They laughed at that and then Slyde leaned in kissing her on the cheek. Brandon knew he frowned, he could feel the tightening of his forehead and at his sides his fists were clenching tightly. He shook that off just in time for her to lift her head, her gaze falling immediately on him.

“Hello again,” he said walking toward her.

She didn’t give him one of those many smiles she’d been tossing around tonight, but looked at him questioningly instead.

“I asked earlier if you were stalking me. I was joking then, but now,” she said while lifting one prettily arched brow.

“A man’s gotta eat,” he replied with a nod to the dining room.

“Ok, I’ll let you pass with that one,” she told him. “Look, I’m really tired. It’s been a long day. So I’m going to head back to my cabin.”

“I’ll walk with you,” he said, just as she prepared to turn away from him.

When she looked at him again he thought she was going to say something else in an attempt to send him away, but she didn’t. She gave a little shrug of her shoulders and began walking. Brandon picked up pace beside her and they made their way through the busy main area and headed toward the elevators which were located at the center of the ship.

“You look very nice this evening,” he said when they’d boarded an elevator, rode up two floors and then stepped off.

“Thank you,” she told him. “You’re dressed very nicely yourself.”

There were too many people moving about and too much noise, when all Brandon wanted to do was be alone with her. He wanted to look into her eyes and have a conversation with her, to find out as much as he could about this woman that had so intrigued him. Maybe because there’d never been a woman to pique his interest in this way before.

“How about a walk along the deck?” he suggested.

“I’d really like to just go to my cabin,” she replied.

Brandon nodded, but was in no way ready to give up. “Then let’s do this. Where is your cabin?”

She paused momentarily before telling him her cabin number. He could understand her hesitation, she had no idea if he really was a crazy stalker or not. Truth be told, the way he’d been acting around her was new to him too. Normally, he was much more reserved and to the point with women. Ask them out, if they accept, good. If they didn’t, maybe next time. With her, Brandon wasn’t willing to wait until a next time.