by Cindy Kirk
Hope lit the child’s eyes. “Are you saying…?”
“I want you to be my daughter,” Derek said. “Assuming I can get your caseworker’s approval, when I return home to L.A., I’d like you to come with me.”
The choral director turned his attention to the preschoolers for a second and Mickie scooted over to where Addie stood so she could finish the story she’d started earlier.
“Then he told me he wants me to live in California with him,” Mickie said.
“Yippee.”
When the choral director shot her a warning glance, Addie smiled sweetly. “I mean, praise the Lord.”
“Let’s go over here.” Mickie took Addie’s hand and pulled her across the shiny linoleum of the church basement until they stood behind a large green plant. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Duh, you go with him. This is what you wanted, remember?”
“I want Rachel, too,” Mickie reminded her friend. “And so does Mr. Rossi.”
“Hmm.” Addie brought a finger to her lips and a thoughtful look crossed her face. “You’re right. Who wants half a sundae when you can have the whole thing?”
“Huh?”
Addie leaned close. “You have to figure out how to get the whole sundae.”
Mickie paused. Was this a riddle?
“You have to make Rachel see that she loves Mr. Rossi and has to forget all about her husband,” Addie said impatiently.
Mickie thought how Rachel had reacted to her putting the pictures of Tom in the drawer. “That’s not going to be easy.”
“Maybe,” Addie said, beginning to twirl. “But just think how great it’ll be when you have both a dad and a mom.”
Chapter Sixteen
The garage door rumbled open and Rachel’s heart skipped a beat. Derek had given her the pass code for the gate as well as a house key so she could drop off the groceries for tomorrow night’s party. He shouldn’t be surprised to see her.
Still, by the time he walked into the kitchen, her heart was thumping like a schoolgirl’s. She fumbled with some condiments on the counter, but relaxed a little when his lips widened into a smile.
“I just dropped off Mickie at the church,” he said. “I thought you’d already be here and gone. This is a nice surprise.”
Even though she’d like to believe otherwise, Rachel knew the warmth rushing through her had nothing to do with the furnace kicking on. “How’d the skiing go?”
“Couldn’t have been better. Mickie did fabulous.”
“Good to hear.” Dear God, could she sound any more tongue-tied and gauche?
His brows pulled together. “Is something wrong?”
“Do you read the tabloids?” Rachel nearly groaned aloud. She’d planned to be casual and offhand about the whole matter, not blurt it out.
“Not usually,” he said. “Do you?”
“Only when my picture is on the front page.” She gestured to the paper she’d left on the table. “See for yourself.”
His frown deepened and he dropped down into a chair.
She stood behind him and peered over his shoulder. “The picture was taken the night we ate at Perfect Pizza.”
In the photo she was smiling across the table at him and he was staring into her eyes with that sexy intensity that made her squirm even now.
Derek barely glanced at the photo.
“The interest in me had died down,” he murmured to himself as he flipped open the paper and paged until he got to the article. “What could have gotten it stirred up again?”
Assuming the question was rhetorical, Rachel remained silent while he read.
“It’s Niki.” He shoved the paper aside in disgust. “The article mentions she’s up for a role in a movie that’s being cast next month. Obviously this is her way of keeping her name out there.”
While it appeared to make perfect sense to him, for Rachel the puzzle pieces didn’t fit. “She gets free press by making it look like you got married?”
“The fact that I finally married is the article’s hook, which is only interesting if you bring up my past,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“That’s why they included all that information about your former fiancées.” Rachel had read the article several times—okay, close to ten. It had been impossible to find a trace of the man she’d come to know over the past few weeks in the slanted piece. Still, there was no denying the fact that Derek had walked away from three women he supposedly loved enough to propose marriage.
“Let me tell you what they got right,” he said, his eyes serious and very blue. “And what they got wrong.”
“Like I said when we first met, you don’t owe me an explanation.”
“Yes, I do.” His gaze met hers and the depth of emotion reflecting back at her made her heart pound even harder. “Things are different now.”
It was true. Three weeks ago they’d barely known each other. Now they were…more.
“According to the article, you’re my wife,” he said, flashing a grin. “That means you should know the truth.”
Without waiting for a response, he stood, took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “First, let’s find some place more comfortable to talk.”
They’d barely gotten settled on the sofa in front of the fire when he began his story.
“Jenna, my first fiancée, was my college girlfriend. When I got drafted, we discovered that we’d had a miscommunication of sorts. I thought we’d get married and she’d move with me. Came to find out she thought I wouldn’t get drafted. She had no intention of leaving Minnesota. It became a stalemate with neither of us willing to give.”
“I came to Wyoming with Tom,” Rachel said. “Even though I really didn’t want to move so far from where I’d grown up.”
“That’s the difference.” A muscle jumped in Derek’s jaw. “You loved him. Neither Jenna nor I loved each other enough to make the sacrifice.”
The situation seemed more sad than anything else.
“What about fiancée number two?” Rachel asked, when he sat silently staring into the fire. “They say you got cold feet and dumped her at the last minute, leaving her with thousands of dollars of wedding expenses.”
Derek pulled his gaze back to her.
“I met Heather when she was on the rebound. I’d have moved anywhere, done anything for her.” The flash of pain in his eyes told her more than any words that he’d loved Heather deeply. A stab of jealously lanced Rachel’s heart. “But shortly before we were to be married, she came to me in tears and confessed she was still in love with her old boyfriend. She’d made a mistake by agreeing to marry me.”
“But all the news reports at the time said you broke up with her.”
“That was the official story.” Derek raked a hand through his hair. His lips twisted in a semblance of a smile. “Her dad was a huge baseball fan. Heather used to tease that he loved me more than he did her. We both knew he’d never forgive her for dumping me. So I took the heat.”
Rage at Heather for leading Derek on and then breaking his heart rose up and spewed out. “What kind of woman—”
“Heather did a brave thing in being honest with me,” Derek said simply. “Now Niki on the other hand…”
“Fiancée number three.”
He shook his head. “That whole relationship was a big mistake.”
Rachel listened attentively while Derek explained. Her outrage grew with each detail. “I can’t believe she tried to trap you with a pregnancy.”
“She knew how much I wanted children,” he said. “It was a brilliant plan.”
Derek loved children. Wanted lots of children.
A cold chill washed over Rachel. She shook it off. He hadn’t said anything she hadn’t already known.
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight.” Rachel paused for a second. “You found out she was a big fat liar and called it off. Now the woman is out to get you.”
“Not out to get me. Out to get publicity.”
“Same
thing.” Rachel waved a dismissive hand. “You should tell your story. Expose her for the fraud she is.”
“It’d be nice if the world worked that way, but it doesn’t.” Derek shook his head. “Tabloid journalism isn’t interested in truth. They’re interested in selling papers. I’m just sorry you got caught up in it. You don’t deserve this.”
The warmth in his voice, the concern in his eyes said how much he cared.
In that moment Rachel realized she was no better than Heather. Like his second fiancée, she’d led him on. She’d made him believe her heart was free, made him believe they could have a future together.
Derek wasn’t a player. He was the marrying kind. That was why she had to end this relationship before it went any further. Now. She had to do it now.
But before she could say a word, he took her hands in his.
“Being with you these past couple weeks has meant the world to me.” His gaze never wavered from her face. “You’re going to be a hard woman to forget.”
Relief mixed with disappointment washed over her. The words Rachel had been about to speak died on her lips. Hard woman to forget? Although he obviously cared, he wasn’t thinking long-term.
Then why tell him goodbye now? In a little more than a week, he’d be gone anyway and her life would then return to the way it had been before. It was a depressing, er, reassuring, thought.
His gaze slid to the vee of her sweater. “What time do you need to pick up Mickie?”
The spicy scent of his cologne teased her nostrils and tiny sparks of electricity filled the air.
Her heart stuttered at the heat in his gaze. “Ah, not until five.”
“Well, because our fictitious union has been blessed by the tabloids…” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed each of her fingers. “I was thinking we should do what newly married people do and—”
“Make love.” She’d planned to say “have sex,” truly she had, but somehow between her brain and her mouth, the message must have gotten scrambled.
“See, we’re even thinking alike.” He pulled her to her feet and she laughed. “Want to try a bed this time?”
The fire warmed the air and the light from a Tiffany lamp lent a golden glow to the room. Outside, large flakes continued to fall, adding more fluffy softness to the already-thick blanket of white.
His eyes met hers and Rachel found herself drowning in the liquid blue depths. The world beyond this room ceased to exist. Nothing mattered. Except her. And him. And right now.
Rachel’s fingers moved to the front of her shirt. With her gaze firmly fixed on his face, she began unfastening the buttons one by one. “The sofa works for me.”
“Sofa sex.” Derek’s eyes shone with a wicked gleam. “You, my dear, are a woman after my own heart. I love…it.”
Her fingers stumbled on the buttons, rattled by hearing heart and love in the same sentence. But then his mouth was on hers and her fingers were unbuckling his belt. And thinking became impossible.
As she sank to the sofa cradled in his strong arms, Rachel realized it wasn’t his heart that would be broken when he left…but hers.
By the night of the Christmas party, Rachel had begun to wonder if she was obsessed. Whenever she was around Derek, all she wanted to do was get naked.
But tonight wasn’t about sex, it was about friends and family and celebrating. When Derek asked her to stand with him at the front door to greet the guests, she’d almost said no, worried they’d look too much like a couple. Then she realized she was being ridiculous. Most of the people coming to the party were strangers to Derek. It only made sense that there was a familiar face at the door to buffer the initial awkwardness.
Only after the guests had begun arriving did Rachel realize Derek would have done fine on his own. Like now, he stood conversing with David and Mary Karen’s parents as if he’d known them his whole life.
“Thanks for being here with me,” Derek said to her after the couple walked off in search of a glass of wine.
“I’m not doing anything special except stand here,” Rachel demurred.
“I strongly dis—” His words were cut off when Ron appeared at the door.
One of the staff Derek had hired for the evening whisked away Ron’s coat, but the older man kept a firm hold on his bottle of champagne. He greeted Rachel with a hug, then pumped Derek’s hand in an enthusiastic shake before handing him the bottle.
“Congratulations,” Ron said. “The wife and I were having breakfast at The Coffeepot yesterday when we heard the news.”
Rachel exchanged a glance with Derek. He shrugged and she refocused on Ron. “What news?”
Ron grinned. “Heard you two got hitched.”
Derek groaned. “The tabloid article.”
Rachel placed a hand on Ron’s sleeve and, with a bit of dramatic license, paraphrased Mark Twain. “I regret to inform you that the reports of my marriage are greatly exaggerated.”
The older man cocked his head. “Huh?”
“We’re not married,” Derek said. “There was an article in a supermarket tabloid that suggested that, but it isn’t true. Though I admit it did fool a lot of people. In fact my mother and sister saw the article and called me, upset they weren’t invited to the wedding.”
“Take a look at your wife’s left hand,” Ron said. “I know a wedding ring when I see one.”
Heat crept up Rachel’s neck.
“Rachel was married before,” Derek said smoothly. “She wears the rings to honor her deceased husband’s memory.”
“I never noticed ’em before,” Ron said stubbornly.
Time to move on. Rachel flashed Ron a warm smile and changed the subject. “Where’s your wife? I thought she was coming with you tonight.”
“She’s got that stomach bug that’s been going around,” Ron said. “Started yesterday. She’s a little better today, but not up to a party.”
“Be sure to tell her she was missed and that we hope she feels better soon,” Derek said, slipping his arm around Rachel’s waist.
His arm stayed there until all the guests had arrived. Then he took her hand and they started mingling.
Rachel slanted an admiring glance in his direction. “You’re so good at this.”
“At what?” he said, effortlessly scooping up a runaway cherry tomato from the floor and handing it to one of the waitstaff.
“At being a host.”
“Well, you’re an even better hostess.”
“Are you kidding? I’m totally out of my element,” Rachel said with a laugh. “I’ve never even had a dinner party at my home.”
Derek’s eyes widened in surprise. “You and your husband never entertained?”
“Tom wasn’t much for socializing,” Rachel said simply. “But despite my inexperience, I’m discovering that I like it. A lot.”
He smiled and brushed a kiss across her lips.
At her startled look, he pointed to a spot directly above them where a sprig of mistletoe hung.
Rachel resisted the urge to touch her still-tingling lips. “Is it only my imagination or is there an overabundance of mistletoe in this house?”
“Travis’s contribution to the party.” Derek grinned. “He even put them up.”
“It surprises me that he went to so much trouble. I mean, there aren’t that many single women here,” Rachel said.
“But the one woman he is interested in kissing is here,” Derek said. “Mary Karen.”
“Nah.” Rachel shook her head. “He and Mary Karen are just old friends.”
They’d just stepped into the kitchen when Derek grasped her arm and pulled her to a stop.
“Does that look like they’re just friends?” Derek spoke in a low tone and gestured with his head to the doorway leading to the walk-in pantry.
Rachel inhaled sharply and widened her eyes. Travis and Mary Karen were kissing with a feverish intensity that brought heat rushing back to Rachel’s cheeks.
When Travis’s hand closed over Mary Karen’
s breast, Rachel had seen enough. She looped her arm through Derek’s and pulled him to the other part of the large kitchen. Once there, she paused.
“She’s had several glasses of champagne,” Rachel said, pulling her brows together in worry. “Do you think she knows what she’s doing?”
“I think she knows exactly what she’s doing and what she wants,” Derek said with a chuckle. “And so does Trav. Those two have it bad for each other.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “I told you, they’re old friends.”
“Friends don’t kiss each other like that,” Derek pointed out.
“You kiss me like that,” Rachel reminded him. “And you and I are just friends.”
“About that.” Derek cleared his throat. “I—”
“There you are.” David rushed into the kitchen, his gaze focused on Derek. “I’ve been looking all over for you. It’s time.”
“For what?”
“For you to get into this suit and do your thing.” David shoved a wadded-up bundle of red velour and white fur into Derek’s hands. “Hurry, the kids are waiting.”
“What is this?”
“What does it look like?” David chuckled. “It’s a Santa suit.”
“Why would I need one of those?”
“I must have forgotten to tell you.” David’s smile widened into a grin. “Whoever hosts the party plays Santa Claus.”
By the time the last child had hopped off Derek’s lap with their bag of goodies, his irritation at David’s last-minute announcement had disappeared.
He’d planned on spending the entire evening with Rachel, not listening to squirming children recite their “I wants.” But he had to admit he’d enjoyed playing Santa. Not surprisingly, the experience had resurrected a long-forgotten memory of the times his father had played Santa Claus for the neighbor kids.
His father had been so patient, so kind. But what Derek remembered most was how, just before each child left his lap, he’d ask them what they wanted for Christmas that didn’t cost money.