Hero in Disguise

by Wilkins, Gina

  The steaks were tender and perfectly grilled, the weather beautiful for eating on the terrace overlooking his pool. Everything should have been fine, yet Derek realized that things had been going downhill between him and Summer since he’d questioned her so intensely an hour or so earlier. The lazily amused friendliness she had shown him during their swim had been replaced by an unsubtle mocking attitude that he was finding increasingly annoying. She’d gibed at him throughout the meal, making fun of his life-style, his bureaucratic establishment background, even his home. And all the while she looked so temptingly touchable as she lounged across the small patio table from him that he found himself wanting to haul her inside and throw himself on her slender body—after he warmed her fanny for daring to laugh at him.

  He asked himself what he’d done to cause such an abrupt change in her manner toward him, then decided that he’d gotten too close with his questions. This was her way of paying him back for digging into history and emotions that she preferred to keep hidden behind her brilliant smile He watched broodingly as she brushed her almost dry bangs back from her face in what he assumed was an unconsciously sexy gesture and widened those deceptively innocent blue eyes at him. “What’s the matter, Derek? Something wrong with your steak?”

  “No, it’s fine,” he answered shortly, glaring down at the expensive piece of meat that had lost its taste for him.

  “Of course. You’re very good with a grill. But then, you’re very good at everything you do, aren’t you, Derek? It must be nice to be so capable.”

  She made the word sound like a curse, Derek fumed, looking resentfully at her. He could feel himself going on the defensive, and he didn’t like it. “I never claimed to be perfect, Summer.”

  “Didn’t you?” Without giving him a chance to respond to her murmured question, she turned her head and looked slowly around the lovely lawn of his home. “Such a beautiful place. Did you have Joanne in mind when you bought this house?” she inquired blandly.

  “Of course not,” he answered impatiently, feeling his face grow hard with his rising anger. He breathed deeply, telling himself that she was using one of his sister’s tricks of getting him mad so that he would do or say something she could pounce on to mock him further. “I bought the house because I like it and it’s a good investment,” he added in a determinedly even tone.

  “Still, it looks like a family home. You must have had marriage in mind when you purchased it. If Joanne doesn’t quite meet your requirements, perhaps Connie and I could find you someone else. I personally know several cultured, refined ladies that I would be happy to introduce you to. Of course, you’d better tell me what was wrong with Joanne so I’ll know what to avoid when I set you up with someone.”

  Derek very deliberately set his napkin on the table beside his plate. “Drop it, Summer.”

  She eyed the set of his jaw. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable of finding your own perfect mate,” she assured him briskly. “I’m just trying to offer advice.”

  Enough was enough. Derek decided it was definitely time for him to regain control of this situation.

  She hadn’t seen him move. One minute he was sitting across the table glaring at her and the next he was standing beside her chair, having hauled her to her feet, holding her there with a biting grip on her upper arms. “Is this what it takes to shut you up?” he demanded gruffly, moments before his mouth covered hers.

  The gasp that couldn’t escape her lips lodged in her throat. Summer stood motionless in Derek’s arms, too surprised to struggle against the angry embrace.

  Actually, the bruisingly punishing kiss wasn’t bad. Feeling his tongue thrusting inside to dominate her mouth, she responded tentatively, telling herself that it was only wise to humor an outraged male until he recovered his self-control. After all, it was her fault, sort of. And the only reason she allowed her arms to slide up and around his neck was that the sooner he was mollified, the sooner the kiss would end.

  For all she knew, it could have been hours before Derek slowly lifted his mouth from hers. Sometime during the kiss the earth seemed to have tilted on its axis or something, leaving everything looking decidedly different to Summer’s dazed, unfocused eyes. Even Derek’s glasses looked crooked, which couldn’t be the result of unrestrained passion—could it?

  She thought she saw his fingers shaking a little when he reached up to straighten the dark frames but told herself that that, too, must be the result of her be-musement from the unexpectedly hypnotic kiss. “Uh, Derek—” she began tentatively, only to have him step away from her and cut her off with a sharp statement.

  “Forget it, Summer.”

  She frowned. “What?”

  “I know you find me vastly amusing and that you have thoroughly enjoyed your game of Derek-baiting during our meal, but it’s going to stop right here. I’m not going to be the latest toy for your amusement.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The hell you don’t,” he returned roughly. “You told me at the party the other night that I wasn’t your type and that you had no intention of becoming involved with someone like me, so all I can assume is that you’ve decided to entertain yourself with me. Am I that much of a novelty to you, Summer? Do you plan to laugh with Connie about how you seduced her straitlaced brother?”

  “Hey!” she exclaimed abruptly. “Who kissed whom? I wasn’t the one who initiated that little interlude.”

  “Do you deny that you provoked it?” he demanded.

  Had she provoked it? Well, yes, she supposed she had, she admitted to herself, looking away from him for a moment. She’d been irresistibly tempted to try to shake that cool composure of his, but she’d impudently expected him to yell or kick something—preferably not her. “I suppose I did provoke you,” she muttered. “I wanted to make you mad, but I never expected you to demonstrate your anger in quite that way.”

  Derek looked taken aback when she shot a quick look at him through her lashes. “You wanted to make me angry?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I was teaching you an object lesson,” she told him, defiantly lifting her chin.

  Derek cleared his throat and pulled at the neckline of his light blue T-shirt as if he were wearing a tie that had been knotted too tightly. “What kind of an object lesson?” he asked, forming the words with exaggerated care.

  “I was trying to show you how infuriating it is for someone to interfere with your life. Who you date and why is none of my business, and you were quite correct to be annoyed by my nosy questions and comments—just as Connie has a right to be angry when you ask if she’s ‘sleeping with anything in pants,’as you put it. And just as I was irritated when you asked all those questions about my past and my job history, then looked so stuffy and disapproving when I answered you.”

  Derek leaned against the railing of the cedar deck, a thoughtful frown darkening his face. The view of the Golden Gate Bridge and its San Francisco skyline backdrop behind him was breathtakingly beautiful. But he was oblivious to the glory of his surroundings as he stared at the woman who faced him from a few feet away, her vivid blue eyes returning his look without blinking. “I think you made your point,” he conceded after a time.

  “Sorry about the way I went about it, but you just wouldn’t listen when Connie or I tried to explain reasonably,” Summer answered, straightening the red Mexican gauze sundress she’d donned over her swimsuit as she offered a tentative truce with her tone.

  Derek slowly shook his head. “You made me furious,” he told her softly.

  She smiled faintly, still a little shell-shocked from his expression of that fury. “I know. Now you know how Connie feels when you start telling her how she ought to live and offering unwanted assistance.”

  For only a moment an expression of pain crossed Derek’s tanned face. He turned to look out over the distant landscape, but not before Summer had seen the emotion and recognized it. She wondered if anyone else woul
d have seen it, or whether she had become so attuned to Derek’s feelings that she was almost psychic where he was concerned. She was unaware that her thoughts closely echoed the questions he had asked himself earlier about his ability to read her. Pushing her fanciful thoughts aside, she stepped closer to him and rested a small hand on his rigid arm. “Derek, it’s not too late. You and Connie can still be friends, if you’d just give each other a chance. You have to accept her as she is, and she needs to learn that you’re not really a humorless stuffed shirt.”

  He shot her a quick glance. “You don’t think I am?”

  “No,” she answered ruefully, her most charming smile curving her unpainted mouth. “I think you’re a pretty nice guy, actually. I mean, you are a stuffed shirt, but you’re not a completely humorless stuffed shirt.”

  He chuckled—he actually chuckled! she thought in wonder—and then forgot to be pleased when he reached for her.

  “Summer.”

  She stepped back so hastily that she had to clutch at the railing to maintain her precarious balance. “No, Derek. No more of that. Whatever attraction the two of us might feel for each other could only lead to homicide. Possibly double homicide. I think we’d better stick to being friends.”

  Her logical little speech did not seem to accomplish the purpose she had intended. Derek’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully behind his glasses. “You’re attracted to me?” he asked with apparent intrigue.

  She gulped and attempted an answer. “Well, yes, but—No, don’t!” She wasn’t quite quick enough this time to evade his reaching hands. She found herself plastered against his broad chest. “Oh, Derek, this isn’t wise.” She sighed, even as her head tilted back to welcome his kiss.

  “No,” he breathed against her moist, parted lips. “Not wise at all.” And then his mouth covered hers.

  This time the kiss was anything but punishing. In fact, Summer wondered dazedly if she were being rewarded for doing something wonderful. If kisses could be bronzed and hung on a wall for posterity, this one should be.

  She lifted her arms and curled them around his neck, her fingers seeking the short hair at the nape of his neck. His hair felt so soft, so thick, his body so solid, so hard against hers. And growing harder.

  “Oh, God, Summer,” he groaned, slanting his head only to kiss her from a new angle. He slid his hands under the curves of her bottom, lifting her into his pelvis to show her quite graphically that the kiss was as powerful for him as it was for her. Summer could only moan softly and press closer. Her swimsuit and thin dress became unwanted barriers between them, as were his T-shirt and swim trunks. The warmth that penetrated their clothing taunted her, making her want even more.

  When the second knee-melting kiss ended, Summer somehow found the strength to break away from him. Or maybe he’d decided to release her. Whatever it was, she stood panting for breath and staring at him in a kind of awed wariness that twisted his mouth into his infrequent smile. “Don’t look at me like that, Summer,” he ordered indulgently. “I was only teaching you an object lesson.”

  “An… an object lesson?” she asked in a breathless voice that showed an annoying tendency to squeak. “What object lesson?” she demanded, bringing her voice sternly under control.

  He crossed his arms across his wide chest, looking rather pleased with himself, and leaned against the railing. “That people who teach object lessons sometimes get unexpected results,” he replied quietly.

  Summer blew her bangs out of her eyes and doubled her fists on her slender hips. “Look, Derek Anderson, if you and I are going to be friends—and I have serious doubts about whether that’s possible—we’re going to have to get something straight right now. I am not looking for an amusing toy to keep me entertained. I have no intention of getting involved with any man at this time, and especially not a proper, respectable businessman like you, even if you are an Olympic-class kisser. So let’s forget this ever happened and make sure that it never happens again. Agreed?”

  “Olympic-class, huh?” Derek looked disgustingly pleased with her ill-chosen adjective.

  She sighed. “We were discussing your sister,” she reminded him archly.

  “So we were,” he agreed, obviously deciding to allow her to lead the conversation—for now. “Let’s carry these dishes inside and we can continue this discussion—about Connie—in the den.”

  5

  “ABOUT CONNIE,” Summer began when she and Derek had settled down with drinks in the den. She felt the need to say something since he continued to look at her in a way that made her rather nervous—as if he were ready for dessert and she were it.

  “Yes?”

  “D’you really think you’ll be able to be her friend?”

  “I can only try. Actually, I had an idea for a peace offering.”

  “Really? What?”

  “I’m having a small cocktail party here next Saturday evening, one of those obligatory functions for my clients and potential clients. Do you think Connie would like to serve as my hostess?”

  “I don’t know, but you could ask her,” Summer replied, pleased with the idea. “I think she’ll be honored. It will make her feel like you trust her to behave herself in front of your associates.”

  “Can I trust her?”

  “Of course you can! She knows how to act at a genteel cocktail party. She doesn’t particularly like them, of course, but she would probably attend this one for your sake.”

  He nodded. “I’ll ask her, then.”

  “Good.” She smiled at him.

  Derek shifted his weight, ending up a little closer to her on the deep, oatmeal-colored couch. Summer looked at him suspiciously, but he only said, “I’d like for you to come, too.”

  “Why?”

  He lifted one eyebrow. “As Connie’s friend, your being here might put her more at ease.”

  “Oh.” For a moment she’d thought he was asking her simply because he wanted her to be there. She tried to tell herself that she wasn’t disappointed that he was only thinking of Connie.

  “Besides,” he continued as if her thoughts had been audible to him, “I’d like for you to be here.”

  “Why?” she asked again.

  “Because I enjoy your company,” he replied simply.

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. I do.” He leaned closer.

  Summer backed off quickly. “I thought we’d agreed there would be no more of that.”

  “You agreed,” he reminded her. “I agreed to no such thing.”

  She glared at him, trying to read his expression. Was he teasing her? The funny little smile was gleaming in his metallic eyes, but he didn’t actually look as if he were teasing as he leaned even closer.

  “Derek?”

  “Yes, Summer?”

  Intrigued by the way he’d said her name, she almost forgot what she’d been about to say. Then she remembered. “You don’t approve of the way I live my life.”

  “Not entirely, no.”

  “And you’re no hero.”

  “God, no.”

  “So it would be a waste of time for us to… you know.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “And you don’t believe in wasting time, remember? Connie says—”

  “Connie has a big mouth.”

  “I’m her best friend. She tells me everything.” Then she remembered that she’d been about to make a point. “So do you agree that it would be best for us to remain friends?”

  “You and Connie? Absolutely.”

  Summer growled. “No, Derek. You and I. We should remain friends. Nothing more.”

  “Yes, we probably should.”

  She relaxed. “Good. I’m glad that’s settled.” Now she had only to convince herself, she thought.

  “So am I.” He moved the six inches that separated them and kissed her deeply.

  Her heart playing hopscotch in her throat, Summer stared at him when he pulled back. “Derek, haven’t you been listening to a word I said?” she demanded. “You just agreed
that we would remain friends. Friends don’t sit around kissing each other.”

  “They don’t?”

  “Not… not the way you kiss.”

  “Olympic-class?” He still seemed rather pleased with that description.

  “Well, actually, I think I should change that.”

  He looked disappointed. “Not Olympic-class?”

  “No. I’d forgotten that all the competitors in the Olympics are amateurs. I don’t think you’d qualify.”

  He grinned. It was the closest thing to a real grin she’d ever seen him wear. Before she could do any more than go all gooey inside in response, he was kissing her again. “You have the nicest way of asking a man to back off,” he informed her when he released her mouth, keeping his face close to hers.

  She cleared her throat with difficulty. “I don’t think you’re paying much attention.”

  “I don’t seem to be, do I?”

  Setting her half-empty wineglass pointedly on the low coffee table in front of them, Summer rose to her feet. “It’s time for you to take me home now, Derek.”

  “All right,” he agreed, standing beside her. “Will you come to my party next weekend? It’s only fair, you know. I went to yours.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Do that.”

  DEREK FOUND HIMSELF actually smiling into the darkness as he climbed into bed that night. He’d stumbled onto an excellent way of dealing with Summer Reed, he decided in satisfaction. He’d wondered the other day what would happen if he silenced her teasing with a kiss. Now he knew. At first he’d merely been punishing her for her pointed little “object lesson.” Then, when he’d discovered that his kisses seemed to shake her up so much that she actually forgot to laugh at him, he’d decided to continue the interesting assault. And face it, he told himself, he’d been wanting to kiss her ever since he’d first seen her sitting on that bar stool in her apartment, her lovely smile seeming to light up the dim corner in which she sat. She’d been so self-assured. So coolly amused.