Chapter Six
Stephanie stood outside the restaurant, took a deep breath, and grappled for the last shreds of her composure. That car ride had been excruciating. Her head pounded with a fierceness that wouldn’t quit, and she needed to be clearheaded and sharp tonight. At the very least, she needed decent hand-eye coordination. This was a seven thousand dollar dress, and she’d rented it for the night. The two-fifty for the rental had hurt enough. A seven thousand dollar linguini stain would put her in debt for the rest of her life.
She held her hand out to Derek. “Ready?”
He closed his fingers around her palm. Bolts of warmth shot up her arm and worked their way down to her core. The way he was looking at her, his wild black hair shadowing his eyes until they glowed, his regard unwavering…he left her knees trembling, her stomach hot.
“Yes, I’m ready.” His grip tightened. “Let’s go get you an investor.”
They walked into the restaurant hand in hand. The lushly decorated room was ivory and gold and a dazzling wealth of tiny point lights that turned the ceiling into a breathtaking sunset strewn with early stars. The amount of glitz and glamor at every table probably represented half the country’s GNP. Stephanie already felt horribly out of place. She spotted Mr. Wheeler’s table immediately, and tugged Derek that way with a smile. At least Wheeler was a familiar face.
“Good evening, Mr. Wheeler.”
Mr. Wheeler stood and offered his hand. “Good evening, Ms. Miller.” They shook hands. He studied Derek. “Mister…Rory, was it?”
“Yes, sir.” Derek shook Mr. Wheeler’s hand, then slid his arm back around Stephanie’s waist. His fingers burned through the thin fabric of her dress. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“Indeed.” Mr. Wheeler smiled and settled back into his chair. “Please. Sit.”
Rodgers emerged from the back of the restaurant. His cheeks were red and his sneer firmly in place. “Ah, I see the young couple is here at last. We were starting to suspect you forgot all about us.”
Stephanie bit her tongue. The man was full of piss and vinegar and lies. He was the epitome of the sleazy businessman. Derek squeezed her hip in warning, seeming to sense how close she was to telling Rodgers exactly what she thought of him. Political games and fake smiles were not what she’d pictured when she’d chosen her career.
Clenching her teeth, she summoned up her perfect Corporate Barbie smile. “We are ten minutes early, sir.”
“If we’re late, it’s my fault.” Derek stepped forward and pulled Stephanie’s chair out for her. “I couldn’t decide between the red cummerbund or the black.”
Mr. Wheeler laughed. “And they say women take the longest to get ready.”
“Not in our house.” Derek gently pushed her chair in. “I’m afraid I’m the diva between us.”
Stephanie stared—at his easy, charming smile, at how glibly he moved, spoke, chuckled—and wondered where this Stepford fiancé had come from. He caught her eye, the warning clear: play your part.
“Uh.” She fiddled with her napkin. “He’s being kind. I took hours getting ready.”
“Every minute was well spent,” Derek said, his eyes locked on her.
From the heat in his gaze, she could almost believe he meant it.
The waiter arrived, and Mr. Rodgers took the liberty of ordering for all of them. The most expensive thing on the menu—lobster and filet mignon. She would have preferred a burger, but she kept silent. Played along like a good little girl, even if she had no idea how to act at meetings like this.
After their waiter filled their glasses with wine, Stephanie lifted her drink and smiled. “To a lucrative future together?”
They all toasted, and Stephanie met Derek’s eyes over their glasses. Though he wasn’t smiling, his eyes were warm. “To the future,” he echoed, his voice full of promise.
Damn, he was good. Too good.
She tore her attention from Derek and smiled at Mr. Wheeler. After taking a sip of Moscato, she asked, “Have you had a chance to look over my proposal?”
“Yes, I have.” He sipped from a tumbler of whiskey, then reached into his briefcase. He pulled out a manila folder and stretched to pass it over the table. “And I’ve come prepared with more questions of my own.”
Stephanie took the folder and eagerly opened it. A hand covered hers, holding the file shut. Not Derek. Derek’s touch tingled with a disturbing familiarity, one that was absent now. The fingers covering hers were thick and bristled with coarse white hair. Mr. Rodgers. She should have known from the sick feeling in her stomach.
He looked down at the file. “Let’s save business for later.”
“Isn’t that why we’re here, though?” Stephanie looked at Mr. Wheeler. “Sir?”
Wheeler smiled. “I don’t mind holding off for now. I’d like the opportunity to get to know the people I intend to do business with.”
“All right.” She pulled free from Rodgers, tucked the file into her briefcase, and hid her unease behind her wine glass, taking a slow sip and stealing the moment to compose herself. “What shall we discuss, then?”
Wheeler crossed his fingers together. A wedding band sparkled in the light. “Tell me a little more about yourself. How did you two meet, Derek? May I call you Derek?”
“Of course.” But Derek said nothing else. Stephanie shot him a look, but his calm, easy smile was no help.
She gulped. “You want to know how we met.”
Crap. Crap crap crap. She’d come prepared to talk business with a few idle personal comments—not make up stories about the romance of the century. Why couldn’t Wheeler be a smarmy business-first jerk like Rodgers, instead of this kindly-eyed old coot with a fixation on wedding bells? He was probably already picturing her pregnant with her first litter. She and Derek could breed like bunnies. Little baby Poindexters toddling everywhere.
She thought she might faint.
Wheeler was waiting. Worse, Rodgers was watching her with a pointed look, the warning in his eyes clear.
“Um.” She cleared her throat. “Derek tells it better.”
“She’s just saying that because she doesn’t remember.” With an unbelievably genuine chuckle, Derek slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his dizzyingly warm body. “Swiss cheese memory. Just the other day she forgot her umbrella. Again.”
“I didn’t forget!” she sputtered. “The weatherman said it wasn’t supposed to rain!”
“That’s what you said the first time, too.”
Derek’s gaze nearly burned with warmth as he looked down at her. She was tempted to sway into him. Tempted to believe that this open, relaxed man was the real thing, and for just a moment she could pretend…
Wheeler’s chuckle broke the spell. “You two bicker like you’ve been married ten years already.”
“Because he never lets me forget the umbrella thing.” Stephanie made herself look away from Derek, and only hoped her smile was as genuine as his. “That’s actually how we met, even if he thinks I forgot.”
God, they were still watching her. It was like doing a monologue on stage without a script. Or any idea what she was supposed to be doing.
There wasn’t enough wine in the world for this.
Derek’s fingers curled against her arm, then circled slowly. She glanced up at him, took a deep breath, then said, “It was raining, and I was meeting my brother for lunch. I was in a hurry. My brother isn’t in town often, and I don’t get to see him much. His work takes him away.”
She felt so calculating, talking about her brother this way to play up the family angle. Even if it was the truth, it was a truth Wheeler was lapping up like pudding.
“So on my way there,” she continued, “he told me a college friend was joining us for lunch. He was always trying to hook me up with his lame friends. Exhibit A is right here.”
Derek snorted. “Lame. But when she wants me to do the dishes, I’m the best fiancé ever.”
“Correction: if you ever actually do the dishes, you’ll be the best fiancé ever.” She leaned into his embrace with a laugh. “Seriously, my brother’s friends were all these stuck-up frat boys who cared more about their hair than I did. So I’m on my way to the restaurant, expecting to meet some jerk in a popped collar polo, when it starts pouring down rain. Turns out my knight in shining armor was more a knight in shining business shoes.”
Derek’s fingers walked up her arm, giving her the shivers. “I couldn’t leave you standing there. You were soaked.”
“And freezing.”
“I was more than happy to keep you warm.”
His crystal blue eyes captured her, pulling her deep into their ice-fire intensity. Her breath caught, and she leaned closer—until Rodgers cleared his throat. She coughed, pulled away, and steadied herself with a long drink of wine, swallowing so quickly her head spun.
“Anyway. He shared his umbrella and offered to walk me wherever I needed to go. I was close enough to the restaurant that I tried to make a dash for it—and he was right behind me. I thought he was following me, or something…I didn’t know.”
Wheeler laughed. “I think I see where this is going.”
Stephanie smiled ruefully. “Yep. I’d just been rescued by my brother’s best friend. I was actually relieved. I looked like a wet poodle, so I thought maybe this one wouldn’t hit on me.”
“You underestimate the appeal of wet poodles,” Derek murmured, and Wheeler burst into laughter.
“The two of you are a delight,” he said. “It’s lovely to see a young couple genuinely in love. The media is so full of these sensationalist, loveless celebrity marriages. It’s a travesty.”
The lie stung deeply, and Stephanie lowered her eyes to her wine glass. It was almost empty. She polished it off in one quick gulp, then closed her eyes against the rush. Derek’s grip tightened on her, steadying her, and she looked up into his concerned gaze. No—that was a lie, too. He wasn’t worried about her. He was just a really good actor, and this lie was just digging her into a deeper and deeper hole.
She forced a smile. “Anyway. Long story short, he ordered me to go out with him that night, I told him to go to hell, but he showed up on my doorstep anyway. He’s ridiculously charming when he wants to be.”
“And ridiculously persistent when charm doesn’t work. And it usually doesn’t.” The rich, soft affection in his voice made her throat knot. No man had ever spoken in that tone about her, and the first time it happened it was a fake? “I had to fight her tooth and nail to even get her to give me a chance, but it was worth it. She was worth it.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her hair. “Still is.”
Her eyes burned. Her vision blurred. How drunk was she? She tried to speak, but the words didn’t come. The way Wheeler was looking at her, he probably thought she was overwhelmed by the love between them.
Not by her crippling, painful guilt.
Rodgers filled the silence with a snide, false laugh. “How sweet.”
Stephanie was saved from answering by the arrival of their food. She had to force down a few pieces of broccoli before her throat loosened, but at least the food helped to dispel the effects of the wine. Unfortunately, it didn’t do much for her embarrassment. Her cheeks remained flushed throughout the meal. She couldn’t believe she’d gotten drunk and let her emotions run away with her during a business dinner. At least Wheeler hadn’t seemed to mind.
As they waited for the dessert course, she offered Wheeler a smile and dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “How did you meet your wife, sir?”
“Janelle and I were high school sweethearts.” Wheeler’s voice softened. “We married fresh out of college.”
“Romantic,” Stephanie said, and chuckled. “If I’d married my high school sweetheart, I’d probably be the wife of a jailbird.”
An awkward silence fell. Wheeler’s smile turned polite and thin. Stephanie’s stomach turned, period. Maybe the wine hadn’t worn off after all.
Derek came to the rescue with a low laugh. “In college, Aaron used to tell me stories about his baby sister and her thing for bad boys. That’s why he was always trying to get her to date his friends. Including me. I just happened to be the only decent one of the lot.”
“Cocky,” Stephanie said, and shoved him lightly.
“That’s why you love me.”
Right now, she almost did. Thank God he was quick on his feet. He’d just saved her ass, and she owed him. Big time.
Wheeler was watching them a little too shrewdly, but he said nothing, save to turn to Rodgers and ask, “So how did you meet your wife?”
“At church,” Rodgers replied, with as angelic a smile as a weasel could manage. “Singing over a shared hymnal.”
It took everything in Stephanie not to laugh. He couldn’t be serious. If Rodgers loved anything, it was money. She doubted he was capable of loving another person.
Wheeler studied Derek. “And what do you do in D.C.?”
“I own a marketing firm,” Derek replied with an offhand shrug. “As well as a few franchises in a local printing business, and…”
The list left Stephanie staggered. She tried to contain her surprise. He owned his own corporation? He’d failed to mention that part, while filling her in on all those lovely little details he’d been so stubborn about.
Damned tight-lipped bastard.
Somehow, Wheeler and Derek managed to dominate the conversation with talk of the D.C. investment market—but not one word about her proposal. After the dessert course, Wheeler stood and shook hands all around. “It was a pleasure, Ms. Miller. I’ll see you in the office Friday. I’ll be by to discuss our proposal.” He smiled. “Perhaps the following Saturday night, we could meet for dinner and a show.”
Panic gripped Stephanie in nasty little claws. Dinner and a show. This was how the big dogs played, Rodgers had said. It wasn’t enough to just have business meetings, they had to be wined and dined and thoroughly impressed. The full shebang. Emphasis on the bang, with Stephanie. It was a miracle she hadn’t tripped on her heels and landed face-first in a punch bowl by now.
Saturday. That was six days from now. She could keep this up for six more days, and with a minimum of bodily harm—provided Derek was willing to keep up the farce.
She plastered on a smile and looked up at him. “What do you think, honey? Dinner and a show this Saturday?”
“Only if you wear that dress I like.” His hand was a brand searing into the small of her back. He was too smooth. He nodded at Wheeler. “It’s been a pleasure, sir.”
“Indeed.” Wheeler was all smiles. Stephanie felt like shit. It was like lying to Santa in a three-piece suit.
“Excellent,” Rodgers said. He stood, but gestured for Derek and Stephanie to reclaim their seats. “Please, stay. I’ve taken care of the bill. Enjoy a little wine on me. I’m sure you want some time to yourselves.”
Conniving jerk. He was doing everything he could to paint them as the idyllic couple in front of Wheeler while making himself look like the generous, benevolent employer, and from the looks of things it was working. Stephanie’s eyes narrowed, but she kept her smile. Grateful. She was supposed to look grateful. Maybe a little more wine would make her more…grateful.
“Thank you, sir,” she said through her teeth—but she was already talking to his back.
“Well,” Derek said dryly. “One investor impressed. One tipsy crying jag averted. I’d say we can call tonight a success.”
She compressed her lips. She wished she could lay her ears back like a cat. “I don’t usually drink. Sorry for being a lightweight.”
“You’re amusing when you’re tipsy. Perhaps you’d like more?”
“You’re a jerk.” She thrust her wine glass at him. “Pour.”
That not-smile was back. Now that the performance was over, he was back to twitching his lips like they were glued shut. She eyed him as he refilled her glass, pouring with expert ease.
“Would it kill you to smile for real?” she asked. “Or is that a lie too?”
He gave her a cool look. “Too?”
“You own a corporation. You aren’t just a marketing executive, you’re the executive. As in, the chief executive.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t think it bore mentioning.”
“Are you kidding? I can’t believe I’ve been making a clumsy idiot out of myself in front of—of—”
“The same person you’ve been so charming and endearing to this entire time.” His chill stare penetrated her. “You would have behaved differently toward me if you’d known?”
Stephanie averted her eyes and sucked on her bottom lip. No, she wanted to say, but she knew she would have. Charming and endearing. The words fell sweetly from his lips, but they only made her cringe. He might as well have called her adorable and patted her head. It was an image she’d been trying to shake forever. She wanted to be taken seriously, but she couldn’t even manage to comport herself with dignity in front of a major executive. It had nothing to do with his money.
It had everything to do with her.
“It’s not like that,” she said weakly. “I don’t care about your money, I just…”
His hand covered hers, his skin dark against the white tablecloth, dark against her paler skin. “Don’t want to be laughed at anymore,” he said.
She looked up at him, her heart rising into her throat. How could he understand something like that? He was so straight-laced, so serious, so respectable, so…so…
So everything she wasn’t.
“Yes,” she said.
“Is it so terrible?” he asked. His thumb traced along the side of her palm, his skin so dark in contrast to hers, and chills rocked through her. “I find you refreshing, Stephanie. I’ve never laughed at you. I’ve only…enjoyed you.”
The way his deep, heavy voice stroked over the words, that hint of an accent, left her chest tight. “I’m just so tired of being this silly little girl.”
“You are no such thing,” he said firmly. “You are a bright, vivacious woman, and I envy your love of life.”
“My ‘love of life’ has led to some pretty stupid decisions.” She swallowed against the knot in her throat. “Did Aaron really tell you about all my failed relationships?”
“Only that he doesn’t like the men you date. You told me the rest,” he said softly.
“When?”
“When you wouldn’t answer me in the cab.”
His gaze was gentle, but she couldn’t stand to look at him anymore. She stared down into her wine glass. “…I was an idiot. I thought…I thought I loved all of them, every time. It’s kind of eye-opening when your fake fiancé is nicer to you than your real boyfriends. I never should have…”
She shook her head, unable to finish. She shouldn’t be talking about this. It had to still be the wine, right?
She looked up at him with a forced smile. “Anyway, thanks for the rescue. You’re a really good actor.”
“Thank you.” His hand fell away from hers. His expression was closed, distant. Why was he so repressed?
Why did she even care?
She toyed with the rim of her wine glass. “It’s okay to show emotion, you know. I promise your face won’t crack.”
“It might,” he deadpanned.
“There you go teasing me again, making me think you have a sense of humor.”
“The Terminator doesn’t know how to laugh.”
She chuckled and shifted to lean against his arm, letting go of her tension with a sigh. Tonight wasn’t a night for past boyfriends, or bad memories. It was a night for celebrating that so far, her plan was going well—and Derek wasn’t so bad to celebrate with. She liked the way he felt, solid and real, even though everything about them was fake. His shoulder was at just the right height for her to lay her cheek against him.
“See?” she said. “You can be human. It’s not a sin to have flaws.”
She felt when he turned to look at her; his jaw brushed her hair. “I’m more than flawed, bella.”
“Oh, I know that. You’re Aaron’s friend. That makes you the scum of the earth by default.”
She wasn’t sure what the strange rumbling vibrating through him was until it rose up out of him in a full-throated baritone laugh. She pulled back and stared at him. His mouth was entrancing, drawn into a broad smile that made his eyes glitter.
“Now,” she said, “I think you’re drunk.”
“What makes you think that?”
“You. That. I—gah! You’re so confusing!”
“I promise you, bella,” he said, and caught a coil of her hair around his finger, “I am very, very simple.”
His gaze lingered on her mouth. She could never read him, never tell what he was thinking, but it was pretty clear where his mind was now. The kiss in front of the elevator, and the one on her couch, rose up to imprint on her senses, searing her with their memory, making her burn to do it again. But Wheeler wasn’t watching anymore—and she couldn’t let herself forget that this was all fake. Derek didn’t mean a word of it, and she couldn’t let herself start to believe that one moment of it was real.
She looked away from him with a shaky breath and took a deep drink of her wine. Wine made her less dizzy than the way he was looking at her right now. She tried to keep her voice light when she asked, “Don’t you ever do anything crazy or stupid?”
“I’m thinking of doing something crazy right now,” he said huskily. “Something I think you’re too drunk for.”
His head bowed. Each of his exhalations skated down her throat, and she sucked in a breath that felt like it reached all the way down inside her to stroke somewhere forbidden and dark.
“I’m not that drunk,” she whispered. What was he doing?
He leaned closer. The tip of his nose grazed the soft spot just behind her ear, and she bit back a moan. Maybe she was drunk. Too drunk.
“Derek…”
“Mm?” Even that soft sound sent his heated breath curling over her skin, and she shivered. She fought for some kind of protest, but she couldn’t find voice to speak. She couldn’t say a word, couldn’t find the willpower to stop him when he was so warm against her, when she could feel the shape of his lips hovering so near to her throat. He was her brother’s friend. This wasn’t real. He was just…just acting. He had to be.
And if she wanted to have any self-respect in the morning, she couldn’t fall for it.
She pushed her chair back and stood on shaky legs. Her heels suddenly felt like stilts, but she managed to turn and stumble toward the door. She had to leave before she did something stupid. Before she made a fool of herself.
She had to get out of here before she begged him to kiss her again, and mean it.
She heard the scrape of his chair moments before he caught her elbow and spun her around. His eyes were dark with an emotion he couldn’t name. “Please don’t…don’t run away.”
“I’m not running. I just…I…”
He stepped closer, his gaze intent on her. “You what?”
“I think I’m too drunk,” she said thickly, though she’d never felt more sober in her life. “And I don’t trust what I’m feeling right now.”
“What are you feeling?”
“I’m not drunk enough to tell you that.”
“You can’t have it both ways, bella.” His palm cupped her face, rough and hot. “Are you drunk enough for this to be taking advantage?”
She wanted to sway into him. Her breaths came slow. “For…for what?” she asked dazedly.
“This,” he said, and claimed her lips in a luxuriant kiss.
The entire length of his body pressed to hers. His tongue explored her mouth—possessed her, leaving his mark in every burning, teasing caress. Her stomach clenched and she clung to him. If she didn’t, she would fall.
As if the tight grip of her fingers in his tuxedo jacket had triggered something, he kissed her with a savage intensity, drawing out every ounce of need she’d been struggling to ignore. For one glorious moment she ached to melt into his arms, to let him sweep her away into this dream. He groaned; the touch of his lips grew rougher, hungrier. This wasn’t a game. It wasn’t a lie. He kissed her like she was the breath he needed to live, and she craved him.
“Excuse me,” a stiff voice said. “Could you please take this outside?”
Derek stiffened and pulled back. For just a moment his gaze burned her—and then his eyes shuttered, slamming closed like steel doors. Without a word, he took her hand and led her through the crowd to the door. She nearly tripped on her heels, but his grip held her upright.
She felt like everyone in the restaurant was staring at them, and her face heated under their knowing looks. By the time they stepped out into the hot Miami air, she wasn’t sure if she was burning with humiliation or lust. She didn’t even know what he wanted right now—to get away from her as quickly as possible, or to drag her home and make love to her.
But she knew Derek Rory confused the hell out of her, and if she didn’t get her head on straight, she was in trouble.