Chapter 5
“Good morning,” Araceli called cheerfully.
Donovan grunted in response and took a long sip of his coffee. He held another out to her.
“Thank you,” she said in surprise, unlocking the door and ushering him into the office.
“I didn’t know how you took it,” he said, handing her a bag. “There’s cream and sugar in there. Why the hell do you open so early anyway?”
His voice was much rougher at 7:00 in the morning. Araceli stepped into the small kitchen and put the coffee cup on the counter. Then she poured some creamer into her coffee and began to stir. Then she added every sugar packet he’d brought.
“Because I usually prefer to do the paperwork early,” she said. “That way, I can call clients first thing in the morning and answer their questions, or deal with any banking issues that come up. You’re not a morning person, I take it?”
Donovan grunted again and she laughed. “I guess I could let you go back home until the doors open if you like, but I really wanted you to see how a day at Vasquez Accounting Services goes. This is a big part of it. We want our nine to five to be focused solely on the clients who walk through that door, so I come in early and handle things like this.”
“Fine, fine,” he said, following her back to her desk and watching her shuffle through papers. “I don’t know how you get anything done when your desk looks like that,” he pointed out.
She shrugged. “An organized desk is the sign of a person with too much time on their hands.”
Donovan scoffed. “An organized desk saves you time.”
Araceli sighed. “Unless you’re volunteering, don’t bug me.”
She opened a file and began to examine it. Donovan looked at the desk. Then, with a sigh, he began to gather pens and test them on the back of the coffee receipt. He tossed the ones that didn't work into the trashcan and dropped the rest into the pen cup that she kept on the right corner of her desk.
By the time Ara opened the doors at nine in the morning, her paperwork was caught up and her desk was neater than it had been since the day she bought it.
“Good morning, Mr. Alvarez,” Araceli said warmly when her first client walked in.
He answered back with a smile and in Spanish. Ara switched seamlessly and Donovan watched the transaction in silence. At one point, the man looked confused, pointing to some aspect of the paperwork. A quick sentence from Araceli cleared it up and Donovan wondered how much longer it would have taken in English. Accounting was a language all to itself anyway. Having it translated into the language you were most comfortable with was obviously a huge help.
Donovan pulled out his phone and made a note to himself to look for bilingual accountants. That should fix the problem.
Near lunchtime, a man came in with a huge basket in his arms. “Where’s your uncle today?” he boomed.
“He’s taking a half day,” Araceli answered. “He’ll be in around one. How are you today, Miguel?”
“Just fine, just fine.” Miguel put the basket on Ara’s desk and she and Donovan both breathed in the scents that rose from it. “Just a little gift from my deli to your uncle,” he said. “For putting up with my new secretary and the forms she mangled.”
“Hey!” Ara protested. “I’m the one that had to untangle all of that!”
“Then it’s for you.” Miguel grinned and ruffled Ara’s hair. “Enjoy and I’ll see you later!”
Araceli jumped up once he was gone and locked the door, flipping the sign to read closed for lunch. Then she grabbed the basket and beckoned Donovan to follow her into the kitchen.
“You always close the doors at lunch?” he asked. “Or is this just because your uncle isn’t here?”
“Always,” she said, rummaging through the basket and pulling out mountains of food. “Usually Arturo and I eat together.”
Donovan frowned. “It’s not really cost effective to--”
“Here, eat this torta and stop worrying about how we run our business. No one would come during lunch anyway.”
“My firms are busy all hours of the day,” Donovan said smugly.
“Sucks to be them,” Araceli said, biting into a chimichanga. “I like my lunch break.”
“Everyone still gets a lunch break,” he argued. “They just take them at different times.”
“So no one gets to know each other,” she said. “Which is kind of sad, given that they spend eight hours a day together.”
“Sure, but they don’t come to work to make friends.”
She shrugged. “I just think that people work better when they’re happy. And people are happier when they get along. Sappy, but true.”
He found that he didn’t have anything to say to that. After lunch, Araceli practically threw him out.
“I get the feeling that you don’t want me to see your uncle,” he said dryly.
“You’re one hundred percent correct. And more to the point, I don’t want him to see you. Now get out, and I’ll see you tonight.”
Donovan reached and cupped his hand around the back of her neck, feeling her short hair whisper against his fingers. She looked up at him, startled but not frightened.
“I’m looking forward to it, Araceli.” When she bit her lower lip, he let her go and turned away. If he didn’t leave now, he was going to kiss her and he knew at least that it was too soon for that.
****
Donovan opened his door at 6:30 that evening to find Araceli standing there in jeans, sneakers, and a bright yellow tee shirt that looked amazing against her olive skin.
“I feel a little overdressed,” he said.
She scanned him. He was wearing another suit, this one dark blue. It did good things for his body, emphasizing his broad shoulders and lean waist, but it wasn’t right for what she had planned.
“Maybe just a little,” she said. “Don’t you have anything more casual?”
“I don’t do casual,” Donovan informed her.
“Okay, but you’re going to look a little strange at the mini golf course.”
He laughed. She didn’t. She only crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow.
“Mini golf?” he repeated. “You’re serious?”
“Serious, and seriously good,” Araceli informed him. “Consider yourself challenged. But I’m not going if you’re wearing that.”
And that was how, an hour later, Donovan found himself standing on a spectacularly tacky mini golf course in an outfit that had cost less than 50 dollars. The real shock was that he was enjoying himself.
“Tell me how you met Mr. Ingram,” Araceli said as she lined up her putt. “Since you were sort of at loose ends.”
“That’s a nice way to call me unemployed.” Donovan squinted at the course and then swung.
They both watched the ball veer off course.
“I expected you to be better at this,” Araceli said. “Don’t all rich guys play golf?”
“Not this one,” he said, his jaw tightening as he sized up the situation.
“Oooh, you don’t like to lose,” she teased.
“I’m not losing yet.”
“Actually, you are.”
“Okay, let me rephrase,” he said once the ball was finally in the hole. “I haven’t lost yet.”
“Not officially,” Araceli agreed.
“I met Oliver Ingram at a charity event my parents were hosting,” he said, answering her first question. “He mentioned that he was in accounting and I told him about my business degree and how I might be looking for work.”
“Were you really looking for work?” she asked, neatly sinking her next shot in one.
Donovan eyed her, admiring her skill at picking up on the undertones. “No. I had no idea what do with myself. All I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to drink till I was bored and sober up till I was desperate.”
“You must have made a really good impression.”
He stepped up behind her, watching her line up her shot, getting close enough to smell her perfume.
“I always do,” he said, leaning down to speak into her ear. He felt her shiver slightly.
Keep it together. The last thing she wanted to do was let him know how long it had been. “And he just offered you a job? With no experience or qualifications?”
Donovan shook his head, pleased with the husky sound of her voice. “Not even close. He just asked me to stop by the office if I was ever bored. He said he’d show me around. I went one day and by the end of the tour I asked if he’d teach me. He agreed.”
He stepped away, looking at the course, pretending that being so close to her hadn’t affected him.
“It was a lucky break for you,” she said.
“I guess it was. Oliver had bought his partner out at that point but there wasn’t anyone working in the company that he really wanted to make his successor. I worked my ass off until I fit the bill.”
Ara acknowledged that with a nod of her head. “I know it must have been a lot of work. Especially for a first job.”
“I used to put in sixteen hour days,” Donovan replied. “I read up on everything I could find and grilled Oliver day in and day out. When he retired, he said that he’d never been more confident in my ability to make Ingram Norman everything it could be.” He paused and then said, “Which is why I want to--”
But Ara shook her head. “I don’t mix business and pleasure, Donovan.”
He turned and tipped her chin up so that she met his eyes. “And this is pleasure to you, Araceli?”
“Owning you at mini golf?” she asked innocently.
His eyes widened and then a smile tugged at his mouth. Suddenly, before she could even process how attractive the mischievous sparkle in his eyes was, he was kissing her. She dropped her putter and stood on tiptoe, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and meeting his skillful mouth eagerly. He was just as commanding in this aspect as he was in others and she was breathing quickly when he let her go.
She traced her lips, which were still tingling. “Speaking of pleasure,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Donovan grinned. “I’ve got some ideas that are a lot more fun than mini golf,” he informed her.
“You gave what I wanted a try,” Araceli said, trying to hide the fact that she was close to trembling. “It wouldn’t be fair of me not to try out your ideas too.”