by Beverly Farr
He shut and locked the door.
“Do you think that will do any good?” she whispered after a minute.
There was quiet on the other side of the door, but that was no guarantee that they were gone. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Hopefully we’re nothing more than a human interest story, and without details that story will fade away.”
“But as the President of Midas, you’re a public figure.”
“I’m no sports hero or movie star. I doubt very many people are interested in me.”
Ginny closed her eyes and sank back on the couch. Her skin was pale and she looked exhausted. “That’s what I thought about the auction,” she said wearily. “I didn’t think anyone would pay attention. Who bids on something like that, anyway?”
“You’d be surprised. Bidding can be like gambling. People get addicted.”
“And what does that make you – a pusher?”
He supposed he deserved that. He shrugged. “People get addicted to chocolate, too, and no one is jailing the presidents of candy companies.”
“I still can’t believe it. Someone is willing to pay seventy-five thousand dollars for a fancy dinner and dance? That’s all the reception is, unless you know the bride or groom. If it were a political or charity event, and the expense could be written off as a taxable donation, I might understand. But an invitation to a stranger’s wedding and reception? It’s insane.”
“I agree. But auctions have a life of their own. Sometimes the strangest items catch the public’s fancy, and the bidding sky-rockets. I once saw an ordinary lunch box sell for twenty thousand dollars.”
“I want that auction stopped immediately.”
“My thoughts exactly.” The sooner he withdrew the auction, the sooner the media would lose interest in them. He pulled out his phone, pressed the screen and in seconds he was at the Midas website. He pressed a few more times and the auction was withdrawn. Does the seller wish to start a new auction?
Another ‘no.’
“That’s all taken care of,” he said. “The auction is officially ended.”
“Good.” She sounded relieved, but he noticed that she was no longer lying on the couch. While he was online, somehow she had hobbled to the kitchen sink and was standing there with a glass of water.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, joining her in the kitchen. “The doctor wanted you to lie down, with your foot elevated.”
“I’m taking another pain pill.”
“Couldn’t you have waited for me?” he asked, but knew the answer. Ginny hated accepting help. He held out his arm for her to hold while she hopped back to the couch.
“I’ll need the crutches,” she said.
She wanted to be as independent as possible, even now. “I’ll get them from the car later. I don’t want to risk running into that news crew again.”
“Good idea.” She lay down and he arranged the pillows to support her head and to elevate her left leg.
“Comfortable?”
“As comfortable as possible,” she qualified. “Thank you.”
Derek stood by the couch, looking down at her. “You look like sleeping beauty.”
“I’m awake, so don’t get any ideas.”
He raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Too late. I already have ideas.”
Her forehead furrowed with pain.
“Are you all right?”
“Stop joking,” she said, holding up one hand. “I know that’s almost like asking you to stop breathing, but I don’t want any more teasing or flirting. Not tonight. Not when I know it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Is that what you think – that’s it’s all a game?”
“What else can it be when I’m getting married a week from this Saturday?”
“You’re still going to marry him?”
She frowned. “I don’t know.”
Derek held his breath. Careful, Landon, don’t get your hopes up. Just because she’s doubting Phillip, doesn’t mean she’s ready to accept you.
“-- With my foot the way it is, I’m not sure what’s going to happen.”
Stung by her refusal to see what was right in front of her, Derek said, “Why? Does Phillip have a foot fetish?”
#
When the doorbell rang, Derek looked through the peephole to make certain the reporter and her photographer had left. He paid the delivery man, closed the door, and locked the latch.
“Hey,” Ginny said from the couch. “I was supposed to pay for that.”
He tossed her purse so that it landed on her stomach. He waited while she found her wallet and handed him the cash. He folded it and slid it in his pocket. “Thanks.”
She noticed that he was quieter than usual. Something was bothering him. Ever since their conversation about Phillip, he’d been quiet, distant.
What was the matter with her?
Ginny suddenly realized that she couldn’t have it both ways. Either he flirted with her, or he didn’t. She’d asked him to stop, so he had, and she still wasn’t satisfied. She wasn’t being consistent or fair.
Make up your mind, Ginny. Either you want him, or you don’t.
With hyper-focus, she watched as he pushed the coffee table closer to the couch to serve as a temporary dining table. He unwrapped the sandwiches and handed her the turkey and avocado. The sandwich was large, at least twelve inches in length, and stuffed with shredded lettuce. She sat up and put a large paper napkin on her lap to catch the spills.
“Good?” he asked, as she took a large bite.
She nodded, mouth full. She swallowed. “What did you get?”
“Meatball.”
A little bit of tomato sauce dripped on his chin. She reached over to wipe it off, but he had a napkin there before she could touch him. In the old days, he would have leaned forward and licked her fingers.
She shivered. Sexual attraction was a given with Derek, but the attraction she felt for him went further than that. She wanted to spend time with him, listen to him, enjoy his sense of humor. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.
When had this happened? Did she love him?
A better question might be –-- had she ever stopped loving him? Even when she thought she hated him, she had still loved him.
Some of her amazement must have shown on her face, for Derek said, “You doing okay?”
“I think the pain killers are working.” She hid a yawn behind her hand.
He smiled and took another bite.
She reached for the bag of potato chips and saw the glint of her diamond engagement ring.
Phillip. For a few minutes she had forgotten all about him. What was she going to do?
She couldn’t marry him now. She’d have to break up with him and cancel the wedding. Her mother would be furious, but then Ginny thought philosophically, she was furious already. And Phillip, how would he take it? She remembered what he’d said, saying that it took character to recognize a mistake and to act accordingly.
Their engagement had been a mistake. She didn’t love him. Phillip was safe and comfortable, and she had convinced herself that he was what she wanted. For once her mother had been right – she did want a man with a little more zip.
What a mess she’d made.
Derek unwrapped a chocolate chip cookie the size of a salad plate. “Do you want some?”
“Yes, please.”
He broke off a piece and handed it to her.
She set it aside. She wanted to talk, not eat. “Thank you for all your help today, especially with the reporter and closing the auction.”
He looked uncomfortable. “I caused the problems; I’m the one who should get rid of them.”
“I still appreciate it. Also, you were very kind, driving me to the hospital and waiting with me.”
“What was I supposed to do – leave you writhing in pain in my backyard?”
“No, but another person might have acted impatient or annoyed. Miranda would have gone into her martyr routine.”
<
br /> “No surprise there.”
He was right, but she didn’t want to talk about her mother any more. “You’re a busy man, yet you chose to stay and help. Thank you.”
Derek reached over to touch her cheek in a gentle caress. “It’s easy to be kind to you, Ginny.”
She turned her head slightly and kissed his palm.
He jumped back as if he’d been burned. “Now who’s playing a game?”
She looked at him. “No more games. I love you, Derek.”
He flinched as if he’d received a blow to the stomach, then his eyes narrowed. “How many of those pills did you take?”
He didn’t believe her, but after everything she’d said in the past month, and the way she’d acted, she couldn’t blame him. Every time he’d tried to get close, she’d put up a wall. “This is not drug induced. I love you. I think part of me always has.”
He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, as if steadying himself. “What about Phillip?”
“I’ll break it off with him as soon as possible.”
He handed her the cell phone.
“I can’t.” At his frown, she explained, “Not on the phone. He’s a good man, Derek. He deserves to have me tell him face to face.”
He considered this. “I suppose you’re right. Okay, then, where does that put us?”
This was uncertain ground. She loved Derek, but she didn’t know what he felt for her. He was attracted to her, but some of that could be habit. He hadn’t declared himself, and from his guarded expression, she doubted he would tonight. “We can’t go back to the way things were nine years ago,” she said very slowly, “and to be honest, I don’t want that.”
“Neither do I.”
“I’d like to start fresh.”
“How do we do that?”
She smiled wryly. “I was hoping for a kiss.”
“You don’t have to ask twice.” He sat on the couch, beside her, and hesitated. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She laughed. “My foot’s down there, and my mouth is up here. I should be fine.”
At her laugh, his face brightened and he leaned down to kiss her. As his lips touched hers, she reached up and tightened her grip on his shoulders, bringing him closer.
This was where she belonged, back in his arms again.
The kiss started out cautious, careful, but as they continued, it grew more demanding. It was even better than she remembered. Ginny felt as if she were on fire.
Derek laughed softly, a satisfied rumble in his chest that seemed to ripple through her as well. “Ah, Ginny love,” he said against her throat. “How I’ve missed you.”
She threaded her fingers through his thick dark hair. “I’ve missed you -- Ouch!”
He pulled back, frowning.
“I bumped my foot,” she said, choking back tears. She was more upset by the separation than the pain.
He brushed the tears from her face and bent forward to kiss her playfully on the nose. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Remember what I said about anticipation making everything better?”
#
Around nine p.m., Ginny started yawning. “I think that’s my signal to go home,” Derek said. He gathered the trash from their meal to take it to the kitchen.
“No,” she said quickly. “I don’t want you to go.”
“What exactly are you saying, Ginny?”
She blushed. “I’m not asking you to sleep with me. I just want to know you’re here. In case I wake up in the middle of the night and need something.” She hesitated. “Is that asking too much?”
Miranda had a lot to answer for, he thought. She’d raised Ginny to think that if she wanted something, it must be unreasonable or selfish. “No, it’s not asking too much,” he said gently. “I’m glad to help, any way I can.”
He helped her to the bathroom and then down the hall to her bedroom. He turned on the light. He didn’t know what he had expected -- she was neither the frilly feminine or sleekly modern type, but the end result was enchanting.
Ginny had a large four poster bed in black ironwork, and the covering was a traditional Amish quilt - a solid black background with triangles and diamonds of bright color. No wonder she had been startled when he wanted something similar for his house. “Nice quilt,” he murmured.
Ginny smiled. “Great minds think alike.”
She sat gingerly on top of the quilt. “I can’t get my jeans off, they won’t fit over the foot brace.”
“Then take the brace off and put it back on afterwards.”
“It’s still going to hurt, and I’m afraid my foot will get stuck.”
“Then cut the jeans off.”
She nodded. “You’re right. That’s the best way. There’s a pair of the scissors in the kitchen.”
She gave him directions and a few minutes later, he was kneeling on the floor beside the bed, scissors in hand. “Here I go,” he said, taking the first snip. “I hope these aren’t a favorite pair.”
He worked slowly up the side seam of the pants, being careful not to poke her leg with the scissors.
“I can’t imagine Phillip doing this for me,” she said in a reflective tone.
“Good,” Derek said matter-of-factly. “If anyone is going to cut off your clothes, I want it to be me.”
She giggled.
Remember, keep it platonic, Derek told himself. With the drugs she’s taken, she may not be completely responsible for what she says or does tonight. One last snip through the waistband, and the fabric fell loose. Derek helped her slide the jeans off the other leg. “Now what?” he asked.
“My nightgown’s hanging up in the closet.”
He found an old fashioned sleeveless cotton gown and tossed it on the bed.
“Thank you.”
She looked a little embarrassed, so he said, “Do you want a glass of water?”
“Yes, please.” She sounded grateful.
He closed the door behind him, so she could finish changing in privacy. Sweet Ginny, he thought. It’s going to be like starting over with you.
Later, he sat in a rocking chair, watching her sleep. She was beautiful with her face relaxed and free of all tension.
The digital alarm clock on her nightstand read one-ten in the morning, but he couldn’t sleep. Not yet. He had too much to think about. Did she love him? Could a woman switch her affections that quickly from one man to another?
She said she’d break off her engagement with Phillip, but his diamond ring was still on her finger, and she had been in no hurry to call him.
He wondered how much of her professed love was due to the painkillers and the excitement of the day. Would she be happy to see him in the morning? Only time would tell.
He might be a fool, setting himself up for more heartache, but no matter the cost, he couldn’t let her go again.
#
“Wake up, sleepy head. I’ve made breakfast.”
Ginny buried herself deeper in the covers. “Go away.”
She felt a brief kiss by her ear, then a deep male voice said, “Fine with me, but your eggs will get cold.”
Her eyes flew open, and she was suddenly awake. What was Derek doing here? This wasn’t one of her dreams.
Then she remembered the day before, and a warm happiness spread through her. She and Derek were no longer enemies. He’d stopped that stupid auction and she loved him. She sat up, yawned, stretched and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. “Good morning,” she said sleepily.
He smiled. “Good morning, beautiful.”
He was the one who was beautiful, she thought, with his hair still rumpled from sleep and his face unshaven.
Where had he slept? She wondered. The pillow next to her didn’t look like it had been used. Suddenly shy, she said, “You mentioned breakfast?”
“Coming up,” he said cheerfully, and walked back to the kitchen. She could hear him whistling.
A few minutes later, he brought her a tray with a plate and a glass of orange juice. On
the plate was a mountain of scrambled eggs and two pieces of toast.
“Just how hungry do you think I am?” she joked, then murmured, “It looks wonderful. Thank you.”
He sat carefully on the edge of the bed, trying not jostle her. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“A lot better. The pain is more of a dull ache than a sharp stabbing feeling.”
“Good.”
“I should be able to go to your house this afternoon and finish up the last few details –-”
“No. The doctor told you to rest, and that’s what you need to do. Rest and keep your foot elevated.”
If she were honest, Ginny didn’t want to work today. She’d rather hide away in her condo with Derek, safe from the outside world. “But what about your interview tomorrow?”
“I’ll throw out the cardboard boxes and straighten up a little. It will look fine.”
“But the quilt hanger –-”
“I’ll manage.”
She could tell by his tone that he thought she was obsessing over foolish details, and logically, she had to agree. It was Derek’s house, and he could put up the quilt hanger as well as she could. But emotionally, she didn’t like to walk away from the project until it was completely done.
But maybe she’d get another chance, later, to work on his house, she thought happily.
She asked, “Has the reporter come by again?”
“No. When I went down to my car to get the crutches this morning, there was no one waiting for me. I think the worst is over.”
“Good.”
Her home phone rang. “Do you want me to get that?” Derek asked.
“Yes, please.”
He picked up her cordless phone and walked it over to her.
Ginny saw the caller was Charlotte. Was it after nine o’clock already? She must have slept eleven hours. She pressed the on button. “Good morning.”
“You certainly sound chipper.”
Ginny smiled at Derek as she spoke to Charlotte. “I feel chipper. I feel absolutely wonderful, other than my foot.”
“What’s wrong with your foot?”