Pepper’s eyes flew open, and she rolled over to her back.

He’d said he was falling for her.

Derek Cashette was falling for her. For Pepper O’Brien, black sheep of the O’Brien clan.

It just didn’t make any sense.

He was rich, handsome, successful, charming. She was . . . a walking talking train wreck.

So she’d done the only thing she could. Feigned sleep.

Okay fine, so that wasn’t the only thing she could have done. Maybe talking, responding, saying something as gorgeously and perfectly romantic back. Now that would have been so much better.

Except, it just didn’t make sense.

Sighing, she turned the details over in her mind. Tried to understand it. But the pieces didn’t fit. It was trying to push a puzzle piece into a slot that wasn’t the right shape.

Derek Cashette being interested in her Did. Not. Fit.

And self-flagellation much?

Why did she always do this to herself? Why was it so impossible to think that Derek might possibly be interested in her?

She was a nice person. She didn’t scare young children.

Or at least not often . . . and definitely not on purpose.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself, rolling over onto her back. “And what if he really means it?” Her thoughts spun as she tried to understand her own emotions. Did she like Derek? Like really like him?

Pepper grimaced. One more like and she’d be back in the Valley.

Derek was hot. Her body was well aware of that. He was nice, had always been the kindest of her brother’s friends. Except, he dated models. How did she stand a chance against models?

Her mind drifted back to the shower, to the erection that had pressed against her.

He was attracted to her.

Okay. So then what about the rest of it? Her father. The film. His baby-sitting.

Those suddenly seemed much less important.

Because Derek liked her, and she liked him back.

Carefully, she sat up. When her head didn’t spin, she slipped from the covers and stood. Steady. No spinning room.

Check. Check.

The door was open a crack, and she paused before leaving the bedroom, listening hard. Had he left?

But no, she heard the rumble of the dryer just off the kitchen, a soft curse as something clinked in the kitchen.

“Suck it up, Pepper,” she whispered and strode into the hall.

And if her footsteps slowed to a crawl outside the kitchen then that was just because the sight of Derek standing in nothing more than a towel as he raided her fridge had frozen her in place.

She must have made a noise. Hell, it was probably a gasp. His body clothed was one thing. His body in just a towel . . .

Holy pigs in a blanket.

For once, dimples were the last thing on her mind. Or at least the ones that graced his cheeks, err, his northern cheeks. The ones winking at her from the top of the towel, hinting at the bite-able ass beneath? That set was definitely front and center in her brain.

He spun around and—freaking rainbows, kittens, and cotton candy—the front was as good as the back.

And the towel. Thank you sweet baby Jesus for that puny excuse of a towel.

Long limbs, a V above his hips, flat abs, a squeezable set of pecs.

Mine, her mind said. Grabby hands all day long.

“Pepper?” he asked. “Are you—?”

No words. Her tongue wasn’t capable of them at the moment. Not when it was glued to the roof of her mouth. Not when every nerve in her body had come to screaming attention and was demanding that she launch herself at him.

But she managed some self-control.

She didn’t jump Derek or mark him, didn’t stake an obvious claim to the universe that he was hers.

She was a lady. She had restraint.

Instead, she closed the distance between them and snatched the towel from his waist.

See? Control.

Then Pepper glanced down. “Oh.”

One of his hands shot out, covering himself with a carton of milk. “It’s drafty in front of the fridge. Cold—”

Pepper didn’t let him finish. Because her oh hadn’t been in disappointment. No, the exclamation had been one of reverence. The man did it for her. Everywhere.

Stomach bug? What stomach bug? Weak? Hell no, she wasn’t. Or not any longer.

Her blood pumped, adrenaline surged. She could lift a car, a building.

She managed restraint before. Now that restraint was gone. Now she launched herself into Derek’s arms.

He caught her, stumbling back a step and colliding with the refrigerator door. “Oh,” she said when he cursed. “I’m—”

His mouth captured her apology and, if she was being honest, her heart.

Childhood crush turned into something more.

Pepper might not understand fully why he was there, why he was interested in her, but she also didn’t care so much anymore. The ride. She was willing to go along with it.

To see where it led.

And—her breath caught—it seemed to be leading in a very pleasurable direction. Derek’s hands slid up her waist, fingers teasing the outside of her breasts before stopping to rest on top of her shoulders.

When he tugged her a few inches away from him, disappointment speared through her.

Too much. Too fast. Too much Pepper and not enough finesse.

“I—”

“Shh,” he said. “My ass is freezing. That’s all.”

She laughed. She had to. It was either that or cry, and she felt close to crying. Way to go, Pepper. Assault the man who said he was falling for you. And while you’re at it, have a go at freezing his gibbly bits.

But before she could go too far down the self-pity rabbit hole, Derek swept her up into his arms.

“No,” he said. “This isn’t about the past. This isn’t about our families. This is about us. Now.” He started walking from the kitchen. “Which means, I’m going to take you down that hall, give you an orgasm that’s going to make you scream, and then hold you while you sleep the rest of your sickies off.”

“Sickies?” she asked, and if she sounded breathless, it was because she was breathless, dammit. When he got all growly and dominant . . .

She shivered then released a shuddering breath when he nipped her throat and whispered in her ear. “Okay?”

“O-okay.”

An orgasm from Derek and not her plastic vibrating friend sounded like pretty much the best thing ever.

He swept them from the kitchen, cuddling her close, rendering her stupid as she got a front row view of that chest. And the way he smelled—she loved the way he smelled.

Spicy and male, a hint of pine in his aftershave. Tart and tangy and wholly Derek.

The man could bottle the scent, sell it for millions on the black market. Eau de Dimples, the fragrance that makes women stupid and melts their panties from their bodies.

“What are you thinking about?”

Her cheeks flared at his question.

“Nothing,” she said. “My mind was just wandering.”

Blue eyes flashed down. Amusement filled their depths, but it was the flash of dimples on Derek’s cheeks that broke her.

“You smell good,” she blurted. “And I want to rub against you like cat nip.”

Humor darkened, shifted to desire. “Rubbing can be arranged.”

“Derek!”

“Come on,” he announced and plunked her down on the bed. “That was perfectly sixth grade in execution.”

Flash went one dimple. Melt went her heart.

“I like you, Cashette. I’m worried it might break me when we’re all said and done.” She gave in and ran one hand through the hair on his nape. It was silky smooth against her palm. “But I like you very much.”

“Sweetheart—”

His tone was soft, gentle as a mother handling a newborn. And that wouldn’t do.

Her and her big mouth. She wanted passion, desire, heat. Not pity that she’d elicited herself.

Derek knelt on the bed next to her. Still naked, still gorgeous, but only half-mast.

Her words were killing the erection she very much wanted to become familiar with.

And that just wouldn’t do.

Her hands found his shoulders, tugged hard. In that one movement, he was on top of her, all hot skin and hard muscles, and if she had her way, hard in other places too.

“Kiss me,” she ordered.