Derek was drunk.

He had to be. He needed to be.

Because otherwise he’d just blown any chance of a film career.

His phone buzzed just as Pepper disappeared from sight. Gorgeous Pepper, womanly Pepper, the first woman to ever feel right in his arms Pepper.

He took a step in the direction she’d disappeared, wanting . . . what?

“Fuck,” he muttered. When his phone buzzed again he pulled it from his pocket.

Then promptly cursed again.

“Hi, Peter,” he said after swiping his finger across the screen and putting the phone to his ear.

“Nice save,” the older man said. Or rather barked, in his trademark O’Brien yell.

Derek frowned. “Save?”

“Getting Pepper away from that man,” Peter said. “At first, from his background check, I thought he might be a good fit, since he was former military, but he was married before. To a dancer.” Peter chortled. “And not the ballet kind. My daughter couldn’t—”

Derek’s mind cut away from Peter’s ranting, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Pepper knew that her father was scrutinizing her dates’ pasts.

Probably not, he suspected.

Or maybe so. Maybe she rolled over like most people did when it came to the whirlwind that was Peter O’Brien.

Except . . . she was here.

“—I’m calling off my men.”

“What?” Derek asked.

“I’m going on a press tour for the next few weeks. They’ll come with me.”

“Okay, I’m leaving tomorrow for the next location. I’m sure Pepper will be fine. It’s a safe—”

“No.”

Derek had been turning in the direction of his hotel. Peter’s stern tone made him freeze. “Sorry, what was that?”

“You heard me, son. Don’t play dumb. You’re staying in Stoneybrook.”

“What about the—”

“If you want my money then you’ll do as I require.”

Standing there, the clear night sky dotted with stars, the air slightly salty from the ocean breeze, sand gritting under his shoes, Derek almost told Peter to go fuck himself.

Then he thought of the rejections, the cool dismissals when he’d sought funding. He thought of his project and the value he might bring.

And he realized he was no different from anyone else.

Peter O’Brien had something he needed.

He was going to cave.

“How long is the press tour?”

“Two weeks,” Peter responded, tone jovial again. “You’ll fly down on the jet with Pepper for the wedding. Make sure she’s not late.”

Derek ground his back teeth together. “Fine.”

“And son?”

He could only grunt.

“Don’t forget flowers and jewelry. The way to any woman’s heart is wasting a little money on trivial shit that doesn’t mean anything.”

Now that loosened Derek’s tongue. “W-what?”

“Kissing only gets you so far. And this is my daughter we’re talking about. If you’re going to keep her in check, she’ll require a certain amount of . . .”

“Finesse?” he couldn’t help but interject.

“No. Finance.” Peter laughed at his own joke and hung up.

Derek mechanically slid the phone into his pocket and thought of Pepper’s small cottage on the beach, of her mismatched chairs and worn cushions.

She didn’t seem like a woman who wanted expensive flowers or a diamond bracelet.

She came across as normal. Sweet. Kind.

And he was more confused than ever.

What did he want? Hell, what about Pepper? She’d responded to his kiss, but not in the way he expected.

She’d pushed him away. Told him ‘no’ on the beach. Any idiot would know not to pursue her.

Except, she’d kissed him back.

For one brief moment, she’d kissed him back.

And it had been glorious.

“Motherfucker!” He turned and slammed his fist into the brick wall of the building.

Pain exploded up his fist and arm, reverberated through his fingers.

He was a fucking idiot.

He needed to cut ties with everything to do with the O’Briens. They were toxic. Pervasive and—

Derek thought of Pepper.

Of the sadness in her eyes, of the smile that had curved her lips when she’d played with the little girl on the beach. Of her in that dress, sinfully tight.

He wanted her.

And he was a moron.

He shook out his hand as he walked to the bed and breakfast, flexed his aching fingers when he talked to the registration desk about extending his stay. Dunked the swollen limb in the ice bucket as he tried to figure out what to do next.

All he knew was that he couldn’t stay away.

It might be bad for his career if he did.

It might be bad for his heart—

Aw. Fuck. He couldn’t go there.