Faking It

by Diane Albert

  “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 a
gainst 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.

  Chapter Twelve

  Stephanie rooted through her closet. She had no idea what to wear. Derek had it easy; suit, tie, and he was done. But her? She was hopeless. How formal was formal enough?

  And why were her knees so damned unsteady?

  She sank down on the bed. She was more nervous tonight than she’d been the night of her senior prom. That earth-shattering kiss still clung to her. He’d been holding back on her—and today he’d nearly drowned her in a passion she’d had no idea was smoldering under that somber stone skin.

  And she wanted more.

  It was unlikely she’d have more than a week or two more with him. No matter what he’d said about being there for her, eventually he’d have to go back to D.C. She couldn’t pretend that she could have the lie and make it real. But she could spend every waking moment with him, while he was still hers.

  Even when she was mad at him for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, she couldn’t resist him. Oh, she hadn’t forgiven him. But that wouldn’t stop her from getting what she wanted.

  Him.

  Her front door opened, a heavy rattle and click from the living room. She squeaked and threw a robe on over her bra and panties. Only one other person had a key to her place, and she never came over unannounced. Stephanie groped until she found a shoe, brandished it as a weapon, and edged closer to the bedroom door.

  “Who’s there?”

  A head poked around the doorframe. Stephanie shrieked and threw the shoe. Her mother retreated quickly with a grace born of practice.

  “Honestly, dear. It’s just me.”

  “Oh crap! Mom?” She’d almost brained her mother with an imitation Christian Louboutin shoe. She’d never been more grateful to have such awful hand-eye coordination…or more grateful that her mother had a lifetime of experience dodging Stephanie’s mishaps. At least this one didn’t involve fire. It had taken months for her eyebrows to grow back after that one.

  Stephanie pressed a hand over her racing heart. Her mother peeked around the door, her dark green eyes glittering with warm amusement, set in a heart-shaped face that was every inch the older mirror of Stephanie’s. “Should I stay behind the firing line?”

  “Sorry.” With a sheepish smile, Stephanie plunked down onto the bed again. “What are you doing here? I won’t be able to hang out tonight. I’m on my way out.”

  “I know.” Her mother stepped through the doorway with a garment bag hanging over her shoulder, her other hand bristling with shopping bags, all printed with the name of a trendy South Beach boutique. “But you’re not going anywhere without your dress.”

  Stephanie stared at the bags. “How did you get those?”

  Her mother laid the bags out on the bed. “Just take a look, dear.”

  She unzipped the bag, and Stephanie gasped. The dress inside was…it was beyond words. A layer of soft nude silk glimmered like stars, peeking through a shimmering black overlay dotted with tiny crystalline beads. The low bodice curved in arcs designed to tempt the eye and the touch. Stephanie stared, her voice dry in her throat. It was perfect. She ran her fingers over the surprisingly soft material.

  “Holy crap.” She hugged her mother tight. “It’s…I…how did you…?” She didn’t want to bring up money, not after how much her parents had given her in the past. But she couldn’t let it go. “This must have cost a fortune. You have to return it. I can wear something else.” Even if every other dress in her closet looked plain in comparison.

  “I didn’t spend a penny.” Her mother smiled. “But I did help pick it out.”

  “Then who…?” She broke off. “Oh. No. He didn’t.”

  Her mother fairly glowed. “He did. That’s
quite the gentleman you have there, dearest. Wait until you see the rest.”

  “You spent the whole day shopping with Derek. Derek Rory.”

  “And Aaron.”

  “…you realize this is some Twilight Zone bullshit here.”

  “I realize I don’t like when you use language like that.” Her mother’s mouth set.

  “Sorry.” She smiled sheepishly. “This is insane. I can’t accept any of this.”

  “You can and you will. I know for a fact that you don’t have a single dress appropriate for tonight. He bought you the perfect gown.”

  “That’s the problem. He bought it.” Stephanie stroked the dress again. Should she accept it? It was too much. “I don’t want to be a charity case.”

  Her mother sighed and rested her hands on her hips. “Stephanie, it’s not charity. It’s a date. Not every gesture is charity.”

  Stephanie looked down at the ring on her finger. He’d already asked her to accept so much. Could she ignore her pride and take more? She swallowed past the swell of emotion that threatened to bring her to tears. He’d done all of this for her. For them.

  “Okay,” she said. “Show me the rest.”

  The bags yielded a pair of strappy black heels, a matching purse, and a small black box with a tiny card attached. Her mother smiled and held it out. “Open it, dear.”

  With bated breath, Stephanie took the box and flipped the card open to read it—then laughed through the tears blurring her vision. “That idiot.”

  Before you argue, the card said, it was all on sale. And if you don’t accept it, I’ll buy you a new outfit every single day for the rest of my life.

  Keep in mind that my grandfather lived to be over a hundred.

  “What does it say?” her mother asked.

  “That he’s not so stuffy after all,” Stephanie said, and wiped at her eyes. “God, he knows me too well. The only threat that would actually work.”

  “Some threat.” Her mother laughed. “Open it, dearest.”

  Stephanie placed the card carefully on the bedside table, opened the box, and sucked in a deep breath. A pristine diamond necklace hung from a slender chain of white gold, the cut and clarity a perfect match for her ring.