Missing Donovan

She lay there, staring at the night sky, and wondering. Wondering about him, which seemed to be all she did here as of late. She felt almost giddy when she thought about him, to which a part of her responded with anger, but she was past the point of caring. She was utterly content, for the moment, to lie on the hood of her car and stare up at the night sky, smoking a cigarette and wondering what he was doing. He had bought her a cell phone and programmed his number into the speed dial, so she could reach him whenever she wished, but she wouldn’t call. Not now, to be sure. He could still be on the job, all the way around the world. She was beginning to wish she had gone to Rome with him, to see the great city and the ruins of the Holy Empire, but she thought she would go insane from sitting on a plane... so many hours....flying there.

“Oh, Donovan, Donovan…” she murmured into the empty night, blowing a lazy cloud of smoke into the chill air. “Hurry up and haul your arse back home.” Her lips curved upwards in a slow smile as she thought, remembering the Presidential suite he held at the local Marriot hotel. Clothes strewn everywhere, dirty dishes in the sink, and the bed was a mess, to be sure. The maid came in and dutifully reset the sheets on a daily basis while they were out, but she might as well not waste her time. If he was there, and she happened to stop by, then all the promises they made to each other in jest were immediately discarded, right along with their clothes. She didn’t know what his thoughts were on the subject, but she was fascinated with the contours of his body. Oops, shouldn’t have thought about that. Oh yeah, that was a bad idea. Now all she was going to think about was the contours of said body. She wearily sat up, flicking the butt of the cigarette away into the gravel, and leaned forward, craning her neck back to stare up in contemplation at the stars.

“Hurry up and bring your crazy Scotsman self home, Don,” she said, her voice muffled somewhat by the collar of her jacket, turned up against the night’s cold. “Or at least call,” she muttered in continuance, looking down and flicking at her nail. “That way I won’t be so terribly lonely.” That made her grin, thinking about him, and also about her emotions towards him. She wouldn’t say she loved him quite yet, but she was thoroughly infatuated with every aspect of his person, physical and otherwise. Those who knew her would laugh at the thought of her, lonely when her man of choice was away on business. They’d say she would never let her feelings make her a slave to any one man. They’d be shocked at her current condition, almost sickeningly devoted to one man, even if he was a particularly fine display of flesh. The fact that he was Scottish, with that incredibly sexy accent and natural muscled build, only made matters worse.

“It’s not my fault,” she whined, stomping her feet on the shining chrome bumper. “Blame it on him. He’s the guy, everything’s always his fault.” Her lip puffed out in a pout, albeit a very endearing one, he said, and she wished he was here. She had only been keeping company with him for a few weeks, but they were rarely apart for more than an hour at most. “Men shouldn’t be gorgeous like that,” she muttered darkly, wiggling her toes in her heeled boots. He loved those boots, said they gave her a very domineering look. He loved her nails even more, and a slow smile of pure feminine joy crawled over her lips as she thought about the damage she inflicted upon him, and the responses he gave. She examined the offending digits, and thought she should paint them again. Red would be a nice color. Match her personality, to be certain. She’d do that when she returned to the hotel: paint her nails and eat ice cream, whimpering and whining because she had the bed to herself for an evening. That just made her pout more.

Her cell phone began to ring and vibrate, jarring her from her day dreams and making her dig through her pockets in search of the little phone. She finally grabbed it and flipped it open, and in a breathless whisper, answered it. “Hello?” The only person who had the number was Donovan, and she felt her heart soar at the sound of his low chuckle.

“Waiting on me, lass?” he drawled out, making her kick her feet with a small laugh.

“But of course, you dog,” she said accusingly, a mock scowl coloring her features. “You left me here, all by my lonesome. Men like you are hard to come by, you know.”

“That was what Ah intended. Couldn’t be leavin’ for bus’ ness and having some other guy whisk you off. Ah’d be jealous, and lonely in a bad way.” She basked in the sound of his voice, soaking up every charming syllable, desperate to have him return home. He sounded so close, but he was too far for her hands to find him.

She felt warmer already, just listening to him talk about Rome, and all the small knick-knacks and gifts he had bought for her. She asked about the ruins, and he told her she had a lot of pictures coming her way when he returned.

“When are you coming home?” she said in a mournful whisper, and he gave a low croon, telling her not to sound so heartbroken. It made him want to cry, and they couldn’t have that, now could they? Besides, he was closer than she thought already.

“Well, you’re not close enough. You’re still not here.” Her voice was sad, and she thought bitterly of how pathetic she sounded, even to herself. She hugged herself against the wind, doubled over on the hood of the car, and wished he was home. She could almost feel his arms hugging her, his voice whispering in her ear about how beautiful she was, what a saucy lil’ lass she was, and all for him. She felt a tear slide down here cheek, and she sniffled, rubbing her nose bitterly.

“Hey now,” said a soft voice near her, and she jumped away, hissing in surprise and hostility and a sudden, and unnoticed, person so close. In the darkness of the night, she could barely see, but she heard a soft snap, like when she closed her cell phone, and she squinted in an effort to see who had snuck up on her. “Don’t cry, lass,” the voice continued, and with a cry, she launched herself off the car and at him, sinking into the arms of her Donovan, hugging him and telling him of how lonely she had been without him, even if he had called her every night. He hugged her close, stroking her platinum silver hair gently and murmuring softly, comforting her now that he was back where he needed to be. He kissed her forehead and rocked her back and forth until she had quieted down, rubbing her back and letting her know everything was all right.

“It’s okay, lass,” he said in a soft voice, holding her back at arms length to admire her. She was pale of skin and paler of hair, and her eyes were unnaturally light, not to mention she was so small and frail-looking… he was afraid that when he wasn’t careful, he would break her, like a delicate porcelain doll. “Ah’m here, and it’s all good now, okay?” He tilted her chin up, searching her eyes to make sure she wouldn’t fall to pieces on him, and planted a gentle peck on her lips. He couldn’t deal with a weeping woman… he was utterly helpless, indeed. “Let’s go back to the hotel, alright? Then you can here all about how much Ah missed your charming company.” His lips curved in a wicked smirk, and with a giggle, she hugged him fiercely, before signaling him to climb into the car. The music was loud, the engine was strong, and all was well in both their lives, because Donovan was back from Rome, and his little songbird was back in his arms, right where she needed to be. She thought that it sounded horribly cliché, but it’s what they were both feeling: a need to be there, among other, more pressing needs.

Donovan leaned over and whispered in her ears, causing her to gasp and look at him in astonishment. “Don!” she said accusingly, a faint blush creeping into her cheeks. “Not in the car!” He tugged at the bottom of her shirt, and she swatted his hands. “You make a mess, and I just got the seats re-upholstered. No, not even.” She pursed her lips in a frown and continued to drive, but he gave her the most pathetic puppy dog eyes she had ever seen and she laughed. “We’re almost to the Marriot, please hold on, okay?” he gave a small whine, almost like a dog’s, and she giggled, ruffling her fingers through his short hair. He was too precious sometimes, she thought, and other times, he was a total shit. About the time she thought this, he laid his head in her lap, staring up at her with the biggest fake grin she had ever seen. Her laughter floated out the window and into the night sky, letting the world know of her happiness with the crazy Scotsman and every last one of his quirks.