Chapter Eleven
Derek straightened his tie and walked into the restaurant. He hadn’t spoken to Stephanie since last night at the bar. When he’d texted her this morning, she’d sent back a terse reply. Gone was her usual bubbly warmth, which communicated even in text. She hadn’t mentioned anything else about the meeting. Refused to say anything she didn’t need to, and hadn’t picked up the phone when he’d called. Something was wrong.
Or he was being paranoid.
He made his way across the room, scanning the tables until he found Stephanie seated in the back of the restaurant, with Rodgers and Wheeler. Rodgers was sneering at Stephanie like she was his next meal, while she fidgeted with her water glass. Derek wove swiftly through the tables. Rodgers made him uneasy. While Derek understood the politics of business, men like Rodgers went above a little diplomatic manipulation and business courtship. Anyone who would force a subordinate to cover their lie was despicable, and he wished more and more he’d been more delicate in his attempt to woo Stephanie to his company—even if he wanted her as far more than an employee.
He still remembered the look on her face when she’d realized her blunder in taking him to a Mexican restaurant. He’d wanted to kiss her right then and there. Her heart had been in the right place. It only made him want to show her the reality of Caribbean-influenced Puerto Rican culture—all the traditions and food and beauty that remained in his memory, warm and pure, even though his mother was long gone. He’d neglected that side of his heritage for so long, and her simple questions had made him want to rediscover himself. Rediscover an entirely missing half of his family tree.
But not without Stephanie at his side.
He reached the table and shook hands all around. “Mr. Rodgers, Mr. Wheeler. Sorry I’m late.” He kissed Stephanie’s temple. “Afternoon, love.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Something was definitely wrong. “Hey, you.”
“You’re not late,” Wheeler said. “We’re early.”
Derek settled into his seat. “Then can I count myself as fashionably on time?”
Stephanie gave a nervous laugh. “You’re never fashionably late, that’s for sure.”
He watched her. She avoided his eyes. “Everything all right, love?”
“Fabulous.” She turned her smile on Wheeler. “After we order, would you like to go over some numbers?”
“Perhaps.” Wheeler folded his napkin in his lap. “Tell me, Derek, what did you think of the performance the other night? I think my favorite was the soprano. Her voice brought tears to my eyes.”
Bored to tears, perhaps. “I couldn’t agree more. She was mesmerizing.”
“About the proposal…?” Stephanie knotted her hands together in her lap. “I spent the last few days—”
Rodgers sat forward. “The tenor was my favorite.”
He eyed Stephanie. She looked down at her lap. Derek gently nudged her foot under the table. He knew she wanted to get to the point and was tired of running in circles, but patience would serve her better here.
Derek draped his arm around her shoulder. “Which was your favorite, love?”
She shot him a seething sidelong glance. “The tenor. The lead actor. He was good.”
“Yes, he was.” He kissed her temple, then turned his head to whisper in her ear. “Relax. Slow down.”
She tensed, but only smiled and picked up her water, her composure perfectly in place. “I adored the little boy, too—the one who played the son? He was too cute for words.”
“He was. Reminded me of my grandson.” Wheeler chuckled. “How many kids are you two planning on?”
Stephanie stared into her glass, her cheeks pink. “I have no idea.”
Wheeler tsked with a teasing smile. “I know that look. You’ve thought about it. It’s something you two should talk about before the wedding. What if one of you wants six, and one of you wants none?”
“Three,” Derek said quickly, at the same time Stephanie answered, “Three, I think.”
They froze and looked at each other. Derek smiled, but Stephanie’s brow knitted. She quickly turned away with a lighthearted laugh. “See? No problems there.”
They ordered their food. Over braised veal and marinated shrimp, the conversation turned, for once, to business. Derek let himself drift. The conversation was lost on him when Stephanie refused to let him so much as look at the proposal.
“Mr. Rory?”
Derek snapped back to attention. Rodgers was watching him with shrewd eyes. Wheeler’s chair was empty; a quick scan found him across the room, heading for the men’s room. Derek returned his gaze to Rodgers.
“Yes?”
“I assume you’ve reviewed the file with Ms. Miller?”
“There was no reason for me to, no.”
Rodgers’ mouth pressed tight and he turned a condescending look on Stephanie. “You mean to say that you are engaged to the—”
“Not engaged,” Stephanie bit off. “Pretending. Big difference.”
Rodgers’ eyes narrowed. “The point is you have an invaluable resource here, and you haven’t made use of him. You’re engaged to the most successful man in the global marketing sphere, the son of an outright financial genius and the head of Rory Enterprises. You should have been groveling at his feet for help. God knows you don’t have his insights.”
The implied insult to Stephanie was infuriating—but the invasion of his privacy was worse. Derek gritted his teeth. “You’ve done your homework.”
“I prefer to know who I’m dealing with.” Rodgers sipped his scotch. “It’s my job to know men like you, and I thought your name sounded familiar. The scandal in Time when you publicly refused to take over your father’s company, if I recall. Not the best move, but you’ve made it well enough on your own.”
“I live for your approval,” Derek bit off.
Rodgers gave him a cool smile. “Control your expression. I know you’re angry. Most people are when they’ve been outmaneuvered, and I have you exactly where I need you. I arranged this so Ms. Miller could use you as a resource. It simply baffles me that she hasn’t.”
Derek closed his eyes. He’d walked right into this. He’d been so absorbed in Stephanie that he hadn’t even thought he was more than a bit player in this, a prop in the play. He should have guessed. He was the fallback plan. Rodgers was counting on the fact that if Derek cared enough about Stephanie’s job to play at being her fiancé, then he cared enough to actively take part in winning the project—even if it meant taking the project out of Stephanie’s hands or, if Wheeler backed out, stepping up to take on the role of investor himself. Rodgers was probably also counting on Derek being the same kind of businessman he was.
Rodgers was wrong.
Stephanie made a little noise in the back of her throat. “Derek, I swear I had no idea he intended to use you this way.”
“I know,” he said. He’d never spoken to Stephanie about his father’s business, or their conflict over it. So unless she was better at playing innocent than he’d thought, this was all Rodgers. He didn’t take his eyes from the man. “Since you’re controlling this game, sir, it’s your move.”
“It’s simple. Review the file before Wheeler gets back. Contribute to the conversation. Convince him, since Ms. Miller has failed.”
Stephanie tensed. “I can do some more research on my own. Come up with the pretty answers Wheeler wants. I don’t need—”
“This job, apparently.” Rodgers smirked. “You are patently unsuited for this business. You don’t have the slightest clue how to focus on what matters: the money.”
“The money?” she spluttered. “What about the people who could die without assistance—”
“It’s fine,” Derek said tightly, cutting her off before she could commit career suicide. She was right. She was more than right. But now wasn’t the time to make a stand. He reached for the folder. “It’s just a little idle business talk. I don’t mind.”
“I do.” She leaned closer to him, hissing furiously. “I’m not some freeloader after you for your money or your connections. I don’t want that from you. Don’t you dare open that file.”
He swallowed what he’d wanted to say. Now wasn’t the time. He’d been through a lifetime of people using him—people whose friendship and loyalty turned out to be false when they were only interested in his wealth, or his position. His true friends had been rare and far between, carefully chosen after earning his trust, people who were loyal to him even now. Aaron was one of those people. And now, strangely enough, so was Stephanie.
Even if her stubborn independence, at the moment, was entirely misplaced.
He looked away from her and focused on Rodgers. “Tell me quickly—which section is in question?”
“Mainly distribution of responsibility in the service level agreement, and allocation of fiscal risk. I’d like to ensure that the majority of the risk is on Wheeler, and that we can’t be held legally liable…”
The entire time Rodgers droned on, Stephanie remained silent, her eyes downcast, her mouth set. Derek knew he was in trouble. But he’d done what he had to, to get them through tonight. He’d work things out with Stephanie later.
By the time Wheeler returned, Derek was caught up. The dilemma was simple: Rodgers wanted to set Wheeler up to take the brunt of it if the venture failed, without holding Inner State Medical accountable—and Stephanie wasn’t pushing hard enough to make that happen. It probably went against everything she considered ethical. Derek wasn’t fond of the idea himself, but throughout the rest of dinner he managed to at least put on the appearance of maneuvering Wheeler in that direction.
He only hoped Wheeler wasn’t truly falling for it. He was a canny old man, and despite his kindly air, clearly intelligent enough not to be taken in by this kind of swindling. Nonetheless, every word out of Derek’s mouth made him feel dirtier and dirtier. It wasn’t how he liked to do business, but this was about Stephanie’s livelihood. Not about him.
After lunch they all shook hands. Wheeler and Rodgers left, in the midst of an animated discussion, and Derek found himself alone with Stephanie. He’d promised Wheeler he’d be at the next meeting—and promised Rodgers he’d help Stephanie polish up her final portfolio. Her research was excellent, and after this rather eye-opening look into things Derek didn’t think Stephanie was the reason Wheeler wasn’t committing. Her goals and Rodgers’ were clearly at odds, and the mixed signals were probably making their investor wary.
He offered her the file folder. “You’re angry with me.”
“Angry?” She lifted her chin, her eyes glittering, and stood. “You have no idea.”
“I’d like to talk about this.”
She snatched up her purse, stuffed the file folder under her arm, and stalked toward the door. He rose, caught up, and fell into step at her side. Once they were outside, in the blinding yellow glare of a Miami afternoon, she spun on him and smacked him in the chest with the file.
“Angry doesn’t even begin to cover it. I’m pissed. I told you to stay out of it. You knew I didn’t want you helping, but you did it anyway.”
“Was I supposed to refuse?”
“Yes!” She stomped one little heel against the sidewalk. “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do!”
“I couldn’t. He would have fired you if I hadn’t helped. It was a conversation, Stephanie. That was it.”
“It was more than that. It was…it was the two of you talking over me like I’m some silly little girl who can’t handle herself, and needs the big man to come save her.”
“No.” He gripped her shoulders gently and looked down into her angry face. “It’s not about a man saving a little girl. It’s about one friend pulling another out of the jaws of a shark. I know you can do this job, Stephanie. The right way. The way you want to. You just have to do it Rodgers’ way first, to get what you want.”
“You think I don’t know that?” She knocked his hands away. “All my life I’ve had three brothers stepping in front of me to shield me from the world. Taking over when things got tough or tricky. I don’t need or want another over-protective man fussing over me. Telling me how I need to do things. Asking if I need help. I. Don’t. Need. It.”
He sighed. “Why is it so hard to accept this as a favor from a friend? Can you tell me that?”
She flipped him off, then turned and walked away. “Just go away.”
“No.” God, she was a little wildcat when she was angry. He wanted to pull her into his arms until she melted against him and forgot all of this. Shaking his head, he followed her, refusing to let her escape. “We need to talk about this.”
“What is there to talk about?” she snapped. “You’ve already settled it with the other men. What good will talking do for me? You’ve taken over the case. You might as well take this with you, since I won’t need it.”
She slapped the folder against his chest. He flinched, but caught it before it could fall. “I wasn’t trying to take over. I only wanted to help.”
“Help me what? Abandon every sense of principle I’ve ever had just to make a sale and help Rodgers get his fat bonus check for making quota?”
“No.”
“Then why do you care so much?”
“I…I simply do.”
She snapped her fingers. “Oh, right. Because I’m Aaron’s little sister. Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t need another big brother. I have enough.”
His eyes narrowed. “What makes you think I want to be your brother?”
“You don’t need to say it. It’s plain as day. It’s obvious you think of me like a little sister, and here I’ve been throwing myself at you. I was just too stupid to realize that’s why you were being so nice to me.” She swallowed hard, her cheeks turning pink. “Just forget about it.”
“Stephanie, I don’t—”
“Don’t say anything.” Her long, angry strides had taken them to the plaza outside her office building. She stopped. “I need to go back to work now.”
She turned on her heel and walked away—but he captured her elbow and drew her back. She looked down at his hand, then up at him, her mouth opening on a retort, her eyes blazing, but he backed her up against the wall. His body pinned hers against the brick. So close. Not close enough. She felt like supple feminine fire against him, and he gripped her hips and dragged her closer. Flush against him, so close he could hear her every shaky breath. Her hands fell to his chest, fingers knotting in his suit coat.
“I don’t think of you as a sister.” Her magnetism drew him down, until their noses brushed. He wanted her. Now. Wanted to kiss her until there was no doubt. “You drive me mad, day in, day out. Aaron is my friend. But you…you are so, so very much more.”
She trembled and bit down so hard on her lower lip that her teeth left a mark. “But—”
“No. It’s my turn to talk now.” He caressed the bite-mark on her lip. “I helped you because I like you. I helped you because of you, not because of your brother. Not because of anything other than you. Than us.”
Us. Such a simple word, but he wanted it. Wanted her to want him, rather than pushing him away. He’d spent his life pushing people away, and Stephanie had been one of the few who wouldn’t let him. One of the few worth chasing, when it was his turn to need someone.
She said nothing, only looking up at him with her lips trembling. He hesitated.
His heart cracked a little bit at her silence. Maybe he’d been wrong about her. “Stephanie…”
She reached up, curled her hands behind his neck, and dragged him down to kiss him. When her mouth touched his, all the pent-up frustration and denial he’d been repressing just…snapped. Groaning, he pressed her against the wall and devoured her mouth. He’d restrained himself too many times around her.
No more.
She clung to him fiercely, yielded to him utterly. He didn’t care that they were in public, as long as she melted to him like this. His father could walk down the busy street and Derek wouldn’t stop for anything. His rules no longer mattered. Not with her.
Only when he could no longer breathe did he draw back, resting his brow to hers. Their uneven breaths mated. “You said ‘next time,’ bella,” he murmured. “I’m claiming that ‘next time’ now. I’ll pick you up at five.”
A smile teased at her lips. “Is that an order?”
“Still just a reasonable request.” He brushed his lips against hers, just a brief second to ease that constant craving, then released her. She sagged against the wall, still shaky, and a surge of possessive need made him want to do it all over again. He bent and retrieved the abandoned file folder from the ground. “I believe this is yours.”
“Idiot,” she said, and gave him a gentle shove, before tucking her hair into place and walking away.
He watched her until the revolving doors swallowed her, and he could no longer see those swaying hips or lovely legs. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath that still tasted of her. God, he was in trouble.
Because somewhere in all the lies, the feelings he’d been faking had become real.
He wasn’t wholly sure how to show her that. His plans for the night were nebulous at best, even if he had the perfect venue in mind. He wasn’t in the habit of dating frequently. His relationships had always been short, and with only one purpose. He’d never courted a woman before. He’d never needed to. There’d always been someone on hand hoping that if she fluttered her lashes just right, she’d land herself a millionaire. But for all their polished looks and perfect social mannerisms…it had taken one kittenish klutz with a sweet smile and a stubborn temper to really catch his eye.
Tonight he would show her that. There was a black-tie charity event at his hotel tonight, and he wanted to make Stephanie feel like a princess. A quick phone call and a generous donation secured two seats at a private table, but he needed more. Cinderella had had her fairy Godmother. Derek would have to make do with the super-spy brother.
Aaron picked up on the second ring. “Has she slapped you yet?”
“Close. I need your help.”
“I’m there,” Aaron said without a moment’s hesitation, without asking for details—as always. Derek had always been the reliable one out of their friends…but he was finally starting to realize that underneath the pranks and juvenile stunts, Aaron had always been there for him, too.
“How do you feel about shopping?” he asked.
Dead silence, then, “…shopping?”
“For a dress. And shoes.”
Longer silence. “…are you drunk?”
“Not in the slightest. I need your sister’s dress size and shoe size.”
“That’s all?”
“What were you expecting?”
“I don’t know. Probably something about it puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.” Aaron sighed. “Tell me you’re not making me go with you. I can dodge bullets and terrorists. Not women with credit cards.”
“You know what Stephanie likes better than I do.”
“Just what are you planning?”
“Meet me at the South Beach Starbucks, and I’ll tell you.”
Aaron groaned. “I’ll call my mother. She should know Stephanie’s measurements.”
“Thanks.”
“And Derek?”
He flinched. Aaron had that tone. “I owe you, don’t I?”
“Big time.”
“Jamaica big?”
“Bigger.”
Aaron hung up. Derek stared at the phone. Last time he’d owed Aaron a favor, he’d ended up in Jamaica. Playing gay, just so Aaron could relax without being pestered by single women. It had been an interesting week, even if he’d drawn the line at actually kissing him. Favors for Aaron tended to fall in the Weekend at Bernie’s category, and no doubt this one would be equally “interesting”—but Derek smiled anyway. No matter what Aaron asked of him, he would pay up without complaining. Because no matter what Derek had to do…
Stephanie was worth it.