Partially reassured by her airy dismissal, Derek nodded and stepped away from her, though his eyes frowned steadily at her back as she moved toward her bedroom. She had taken only three steps when his exclamation of distress stopped her. “Dampiit, Summer, you’re limping! I really hurt you, didn’t I?” Before she could open her mouth to deny his self-recrimination, he had swept her into his arms as if she weighed nothing and was carrying her to the worn sofa, which was still shoved against one wall.
“Derek, will you put me down!” Summer gasped, clutching at his shoulder for balance. Lord, he was strong. And so warm. His warmth scorched her through her thin nightclothes. “You did not hurt me. I always limp,” she told him as evenly as she could under the circumstances.
She was completely ignored as Derek deposited her with great care in the center of the sagging couch and, holding her leg still with a hand at her ankle, began to roll up her wide pajama leg. “Derek! Stop that!” She reached down to arrest his hand, reluctant for him to see her leg, but he easily overpowered her.
“Dear God, Summer, what did you do to this knee?” Derek stared in near horror at the slender appendage, which was disfigured by a veritable spiderweb of scars from her lower thigh to two inches below her knee. The kneecap itself was unnaturally lopsided.
“If you had listened to me instead of throwing me around like a sack of potatoes, I would have told you,” she answered crossly, not caring that her analogy bore little resemblance to his somewhat high-handed but unarguably gentle handling of her. She looked away from the expression on his face, not wanting to see the revulsion that usually followed the shock.
“I’m listening now.”
“I was injured in a motorcycle accident five years ago. A car ran a stop sign and smashed into me. I’ll walk with this limp for the rest of my life, but since I nearly had to have the leg amputated, I’m not complaining. Now are you satisfied that you did not cause me a terrible injury?”
Still holding her leg just behind the knee, Derek sat back on his heels and looked intently up at her. “How’d the guy driving the motorcycle fare?”
“I was driving the motorcycle, you chauvinist. And the accident wasn’t my fault.” She wished she could control the slight trembling of her muscles beneath his warm palm. With uncharacteristic bitterness she told herself he must not be aware that he was still holding the disfigured leg. It was hardly a sight to make him want to touch her.
“How long did it take you to get back on your feet?”
“Almost two years,” Summer admitted reluctantly, desperately wishing he’d move his hand. “I spent some time in bed, then in a wheelchair, then using a walker and crutches. I skipped having to use a cane, though.”
“Good for you. I have a feeling you hated being an invalid.”
“Despised it. The main reason I moved to San Francisco was because it was as far west of my tender loving relatives as I could get without falling into the Pacific. I needed to stand on my own two feet again—excuse the pun.” Unable to bear the bittersweet feel of his touch for another moment, she reached down toward her rolled-up pajama leg.
Derek stopped her by catching her wrist and moving her hand firmly back to her lap, obviously intending to smooth the pajamas back into place himself. He grasped the soft fabric in both hands and began to unroll it, then stopped. Shooting a quick look up at her, he shocked her by leaning over to brush the gentlest of kisses across her kneecap. Her leg jumped reflexively. Without a word Derek finished rolling the pajama leg down, smoothed the fabric from knee to ankle with excruciating slowness, then released her. In an easy, gracefully coordinated movement he turned and sat beside her on the sofa, wincing when a semiprotruding spring poked him in the posterior. “Just where are your tender loving relatives?” he inquired as if he hadn’t just caused her heart to leap into her throat and hang there in quivering convulsions. “Obviously you’re from the south. Memphis?”
Summer blinked twice and swallowed her heart back into her chest, deciding to follow Derek’s lead and ignore that odd little kiss. She’d have plenty of time to think about it later—and she knew she would think about it. When she spoke, her voice was amazingly normal. “Hasn’t Connie told you anything about me? I just assumed you knew that I limped and where I’m from.”
Derek shook his head, his expression grim. “We haven’t talked much,” he admitted. “Every time we try to have a conversation, we end up in a fight.”
Summer decided not to mention that Connie had been rather more vocal with her roommate. Summer knew how disappointed Connie had been when her brother had moved back home after so many years only to treat her in very much the same heavily paternal manner that he would have shown her had she still been an adoring ten-year-old. Giving unwanted advice, criticizing her choice of jobs and lack of long-term career goals, reminding her that her impulsive nature and stubborn independence had led her into an ill-fated marriage before her eighteenth birthday. Expecting Derek to return to the States as a sophisticated, indulgent older brother with the heart of an adventurer and the fascinating stories of a seasoned world traveler, Connie had instead been faced with a determinedly conservative businessman, closemouthed about himself and intent on settling into a quietly successful routine.
Derek turned the conversation back to Summer before she had time to comment on his relationship with his sister. “All I know about you is that you’ve been rooming with Connie for eight months, that the two of you have a great deal in common, according to her, and that you both work in the accounting department of Pro Sporting Goods. You’re, uh—” he paused, seeming to grope for the right words “—you’re different than what I expected.”
“In what way?” she asked curiously, wondering if his preconceptions of her had been as inaccurate as hers of him.
But he refused to enlighten her. “Just different,” he replied unhelpfully. “I’d like to know more about you. So answer my question. Where are you from. Memphis?”
“You’re close. I’m from Rose Bud, Arkansas.”
He sighed. “Why do you insist on making fun of me when I’m only trying to talk to you? Where are you really from?”
Relieved at the change of mood, Summer laughed at him. “I told you. Rose Bud, Arkansas. Population two hundred and two. It’s just down the road from Romance, about fifty-five miles north of Little Rock, if that pinpoints it for you.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yep. My parents own a seed and feed store there.” She waited expectantly.
He groaned, thinking of her last name. “Not, er, Reed’s Seed and Feed?”
She laughed again. “That’s exactly what it’s called. The store was nearly blown away by a big tornado a couple of years back that wiped out about half the buildings in Rose Bud—even the pool hall. But Dad got busy and rebuilt his place and most of the other merchants did the same, and now the town looks almost new. We even got us a red brick post office.” She was chattering to mask her lingering nervousness, but Derek only listened, looking at her as if he weren’t quite sure whether to believe a word of what she was telling him.
When he spoke, it was in a carefully neutral voice. “I like your laugh. It sounds like… like…”
“Like the tinkling of dozens of fairy bells?” she supplied helpfully.
“Certainly not,” he retorted with a look of disgust that sent her laugh pealing through the room once again. “Who told you that?”
“A very handsome young man with aspirations of becoming a poet.”
“Did he succeed?”
“Not so far. The last I heard, he was selling waterless cookware.”
Again Derek shot her a suspicious look before asking another question. “Do you have any sisters or brothers?”
“Two sisters. Spring’s a year older than I am—she’s twenty-six. She’s an optometrist living in Little Rock. Autumn’s about to turn twenty-four. She’s an electrician.”
“An electrician? That’s an unusual occupation for a young—Dammit, Summer,
I told you to cut the bull! Do you honestly expect me to believe that your parents named their daughters Spring, Summer and Autumn? You’ve been feeding me a line all along, haven’t you?” He glared at her as she rocked with laughter, her sore knee forgotten.
“Oh, Derek!” she gasped. “I love that look of outrage on your face. It’s so cute. And now you look outraged and appalled. I love it!” Wiping at the tears of laughter that were making streaky paths through her faint mascara rings, she shook her head, trying to control her amusement. “I swear to you that every word I told you is true. I can’t help it if my life sounds like one of those phony southern television programs—The Dukes of Hazzard or Gomer Pyle U.S.M.C. or something equally stupid. That was really the way I grew up.”
“You really have a sister named Spring who’s an optometrist and one named Autumn who’s an electrician? And your father really does own a store called Reed’s Seed and Feed in Rose Bud, Arkansas?”
“I truly do and he truly does,” she assured him, making a determined effort not to laugh again. Really, Derek could make some of the funniest faces. Connie hadn’t been exaggerating about that, even if she had misled Summer by telling her that Derek was dull and ordinary. Summer was finding out rapidly that nothing could be further from the truth.
Derek shook his head. “No wonder you and my sister are such good friends. At least it sounds as if you fit in very well with your family. Connie swears she must have been given to the wrong family at the hospital. Neither my parents nor I could ever really figure her out.”
Summer sobered abruptly. “You’re wrong about my family. I never fit in, either. My parents might sound like nuts, but they are staid, hardworking people with very little imagination. Dad’s store is called Reed’s Seed and Feed because that’s his name and that’s what he sells. My sisters and I were named after the seasons of our births—Spring’s birthday’s in May, mine’s in July and Autumn’s is in September. My parents always complained that I laughed at them from the day I was born and they could never catch on to the joke. I love them, of course, but honestly, they can be so exasperating.”
“And your sisters? Are they dull and uptight like me?” Derek inquired glumly. “Do you and Connie make jokes about them, as well?”
Summer’s hand fluttered in the air as she searched for words to describe her sisters. “We’re just different, that’s all,” she said finally. “Spring’s the brainy one, the one with all the ambition. She worked her way through college, then optometry school, and now she has opened a nice practice in Little Rock. She’s quite serious, though she can be fun when she loosens up. She really has a cute sense of humor; she just keeps it well hidden. She reminds me a little of you, actually. Perhaps you should meet her, Derek. Did you say something?”
“No,” he answered wryly. “Go on. Tell me about Autumn.” He shifted a little closer on the worn couch, lazily, as if he were only interested in hearing more about her family. His leg brushed Summer’s thigh, and she backed off immediately, then mentally scolded herself for bringing a knowing smile to his eyes.
“Autumn’s the liberated one,” she said a little breathlessly. “Fiercely independent, determined to prove herself equal to any man. It’s her way of rebelling against the small-town Southern values that were pounded into all of us while we were growing up. You know, women exist only to serve men, a woman’s greatest destiny is helpmate and mother, et cetera, et cetera. When she’s not on her soapbox about the oppression of women, Autumn’s okay. Spring disapproves of my lack of ambition, and Autumn thinks I’m a traitor to women because I believe in fairy tales, but we get along fine as long as we don’t spend extended periods of time in one another’s company.”
“And what is Summer like?” Derek asked unexpectedly, his eyes keen behind the polished lenses of his glasses.
One slender shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I told you all about me last night. Remember? When I listed the reasons why I didn’t fulfill your requirements for wife candidate.” For some reason that little joke wasn’t quite as amusing this morning, nor as easy to toss out.
“I remember everything you said to me last night,” Derek answered, looking at her steadily. “Did you drop out of college because of your accident?”
“Yes. I dropped out not long before I probably would have flunked out, anyway.”
“You don’t seem to be lacking in intelligence.”
“Thank you, sir. Actually, there were a few people who suggested that my college career might have been more profitable had I ever attended classes or opened a textbook. It was a novel idea, but I was creamed by the Ford before I ever had the opportunity to try it.” When Derek just looked at her, she added, “That was a joke, Derek. I did attend a few classes, you know.”
“I’m perfectly capable of recognizing a joke when I hear one,” he informed her. He stood suddenly, reaching down a hand to help her up. “Get dressed. I’m taking you out for breakfast.”
She looked surprised but accepted his assistance after only a momentary hesitation. “What am I, your surrogate sister?”
“Hell, no. I’m hungry and I don’t care for eating alone.”
“What a gracious invitation. Thank you, Derek, I’d love to have breakfast with you.” She smiled brilliantly. As long as she could laugh at him, she could keep her disturbing attraction to him under control, she told herself optimistically.
He had the grace to look sheepish. “Sorry. I’m not usually so clumsy.”
“I’m sure you’re not,” she told him kindly. “Working for the government for so long must have made you a master of civilized diplomacy. I guess I just have a talent for bringing out the worst in you.”
Derek threw her a dark look and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Why is it that I always feel like I’m being insulted by you?”
She gave him a cheeky grin and patted his arm as she limped past him. “Because you’re an astute and perceptive man, Derek Anderson. Give me twenty minutes to shower and change and I’ll be ready to leave.”
“I’ll give you thirty,” he offered magnanimously.
Reluctant to keep Derek waiting in the cluttered living room, Summer showered and washed her hair quickly. Her short, short hairdo took little time to style, and she applied only a minimum of makeup before pulling on her clothes. At random she selected a red, short-sleeved camp shirt to wear under a sleeveless yellow cotton vest. Her dirndl skirt of red-and-yellow plaid fell to midcalf, adequately concealing the ravages of her right knee. Sliding her feet into low-heeled red espadrilles, she was ready.
And then she wasted almost five minutes trying to tell herself that she was not on the verge of hyperventilating just because Derek Anderson was taking her to breakfast. What was it about him that made her turn into a swooning adolescent? she wondered with wry humor. What was it about his silvery eyes that made her long to see them glimmer with his smile? What was it about his strong arms that made her fantasize about having them around her? And how could one little kiss brushed lightly across her ugly, scarred knee turn her into a panting lapdog wanting only to feel his hands upon her? Disgusting, she told herself sternly, frowning at her image in the mirror.
But nice. There was something definitely nice about the feelings he brought out in her. Oh, she was going to have to be very careful.
As fast as she had been, Derek had been faster. Summer gasped when she stepped into the living room to find all the remains of last night’s party cleared away. She found Derek in the kitchen, loading the last chip bowl into the dishwasher. A large plastic bag of garbage, neatly tied, rested at his feet. “Where do you take your garbage?” he asked, glancing up to find her staring at him.
“You wouldn’t happen to be wearing a Superman costume under those mild-mannered businessman’s clothes, would you?” she asked curiously.
His lips curved into one of his faint, dangerous smiles. “No. Would you like me to take them off and show you?”
Yes. The answer popped into her mind with such conviction that Summer b
linked, telling herself that his occasional flashes of humor were definitely strange. “What I meant was,” she enunciated clearly, “how did you ever get all this done so quickly?”
“Organization and efficiency.” His eyes gleamed with that smile that so rarely touched his mouth. Summer was beginning to like that camouflaged smile very much. “I thought it was the least I could do after knocking you down when I arrived.”
“It wasn’t necessary, but thanks.”
“You’re welcome. You look very nice.”
“Thank you again. We can leave now, unless you’d like to clean the bathroom first?”
She had injected just enough wistful hinting into the question to cause Derek’s mouth to quirk into a genuine smile. “I think I’ll pass on that opportunity.”
Amazing what a mere curve of lips and a very brief glimpse of even white teeth could do for a rather ordinary male face, Summer thought in momentary bemusement. His rare smile made Derek look almost handsome. Downright sexy. And he was looking at her like…
“Breakfast,” she said determinedly, shaking off her unsettling fascination with his facial expression and turning back toward the living room.
Derek chuckled and followed her, placing a warm palm on her back as they left her apartment. Summer tried very hard to ignore it. She failed completely.
3
DEREK TOOK HER to a restaurant in a nearby luxury hotel—a far cry from the quick Egg McMuffin that she sometimes picked up on the way to work, if she ate breakfast at all. He allowed her to make a good start on her generous meal before asking about his sister. “Why did she leave for Los Angeles at such an odd hour? And what is she doing there?”
“It was an impulsive trip,” Summer explained. “Do you remember seeing Cody Pierce at the party last night? Curly red hair, plaid sport coat?”
Hero in Disguise Page 3