Faking It (12 page)

“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 against 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.

She fingered the chain carefully, fighting back a choking panic. This was all too much. Too much money. Too much…everything. She would have been happy with the note and Chinese takeout. “Oh,” she said thickly. “It’s…nice.”

Her mother frowned. “…you’re about to be stubborn about this, aren’t you?”

“How can I not? He’s…he’s ridiculously rich. Unrealistically rich. I’m down to about three dollars, and that’s only if my paycheck clears before the rent check. He could have anyone in the world.” She slid heavily off the bed and thudded down on her butt on the floor. “Why does he want me, of all people?”

Her mother sat down on the floor next to her, shoulder to shoulder. Her blond curls were a disarrayed mess as always, and one tickled Stephanie’s cheek like a kiss. “The heart doesn’t care about money or apartments or clothing. And neither should you.” She patted Stephanie’s hand, her fingers warm and weathered and so reassuringly familiar when her life felt more strange by the day. “You’ve worked hard, sweetheart. And you’ve had to fight for so much. In ten minutes, a darling young man will be here to show you the night of your life. Let yourself have at least that much. Revel in it, Stephanie. Some people never get the chance.”

Stephanie smiled through a freshet of new tears. “Mom…” She pulled her mother into a tight hug, fingers clenching against her back. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Now, now, none of that.” Her mother gave her a little pat. “Up off the floor with you. Let’s get you dressed, and do something with that
hair
.”

With her mother’s help, she was dressed and ready with two minutes to spare. Her mother tucked a curl behind her ear and smiled.

“You look lovely,” she said. “Don’t worry about anything tonight, dearest. Don’t think about anything but you and him.”

Her mother let herself out, leaving Stephanie alone with her racing nerves. Thank God she hadn’t eaten, or she might throw up.

A knock at the door had her nearly screaming. She had to calm down. It was only Derek. She took a deep breath and answered the door—and forgot how to breathe.

His tall frame filled the doorway, elegant in a formal black tuxedo, his hair still slightly damp and curling in a touchable tangle of black. He looked like he’d stepped right out of her favorite show,
Downton Abbey.
He should be in that castle, with hundreds of servants waiting on him. She was more of a kitchen wench, good enough only to slave over his meals, not even fit to dine with the other servants.

“You’re more beautiful than I’d even imagined,” he said, and captured her hand, bringing it to his lips. His mouth left a hot trail on her skin. A careless dusting of stubble teased her, more rakishly sexy than his usual clean-shaven perfection. “You grace me with your presence.”

She could barely speak. She felt dizzy, weak, swept away on a sudden tide of emotion. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”

“Don’t thank me. I wanted tonight to be perfect.”

Her stomach twisted into nervous knots. “I feel like Julia Roberts in
Pretty Woman.
”

Derek burst into husky, rumbling laughter. She couldn’t help but smile. She loved his laugh so much. “I was going more for
Cinderella
than
Pretty Woman
,” he said.

“
Pretty Woman
is just a modern
Cinderella
retelling. Don’t you read Rotten Tomatoes?”

“I wasn’t aware one could read rotten fruit.” He offered his arm. “And Cinderella isn’t a prostitute.”

She chuckled and took his arm. “Technicalities.”

He escorted her down the stairs. She took every step with infinite care. Cinderella had lost her shoe. Stephanie would probably snap her own foot off at the ankle and fall six stories to her death.

At the first floor landing, he paused, his gaze falling to her necklace. “Everything fit?”

“Perfectly.” She tucked against him with a sigh. If she had her way, she’d crawl into his arms and purr. “I can’t believe you shanghaied my mother and Aaron into helping you. Aaron hates shopping.”

He held the door for her, his slightly crooked nose wrinkled. “I sold my soul for an unnamed favor.”

“Good luck with that one. He’s merciless about favors.”

“I have firsthand experience with that, believe me.”

She stared at him. “And you did it anyway?”

“Worth it,” he said, and led her outside.

A gleaming black stretch limousine waited on the curb, entirely out of place in Stephanie’s urban neighborhood. She stopped and stared. “You’re kidding me.”

He looked entirely too pleased with himself. “I don’t do things by halves.”

A chauffeur opened the door for them, then shut it once they were settled inside. Stephanie felt like a child, staring wide-eyed around the interior. She’d never been in a limo before. She almost felt like she didn’t belong anywhere near the opulent upholstery and fine wood paneling.

“This is nice,” she said. “Almost too nice.”

He watched her intently. “The amount on the price tag doesn’t make a difference,
bella
. There are no expectations tonight, other than that you are you and I am me.”

She smiled nervously. What if the Stephanie that Derek saw tonight wasn’t enough?

Or what if he turned out to be too much?

He traced his fingers down her jawline. “Relax.”

“I’m trying. I promise, I am.”

The limo stopped. She peeked out the window. “That was fast. Where are we?”

“My hotel.”

“You dressed me up to bring me back to your hotel? Are you sure I’m Cinderella, not Julia?”

The chauffeur opened the limo door. Derek stepped out, then offered her his hand. “Every inch my Cinderella. I didn’t bring you here for sex.”

“I might almost be disappointed,” she said with a slow smile.

Heat flared in his eyes. He handed her out of the car and pulled her close against him. “That doesn’t mean I’m not open to suggestions.”

“Down, boy.” She stretched up and kissed his cheek. “I’d like to see what else you have planned.”

“Plans change,” he growled, but withdrew and offered his arm. It was so courtly, so outdated, but that was why she loved it. It was part of what made Derek so very
Derek.

He led her into the hotel lobby. The glitter and shine of polished marble and even more polished people nearly blinded her. Everything was all gilt edges and dark, rich colors. People streamed, in groups and pairs, toward a set of double doors. Above the doors a banner announced a charity ball. She bit back her smile. How like Derek to make even their date for a worthy cause, just because he knew how she felt about such things. But it was like her business meetings all over again. Every single person here could spend her entire salary on a single meal. She didn’t belong here.

But he did.

She forced a smile. “It looks lovely.”

“It does. But I think I’ll pass.”

“What?” She looked up at him. He was back to that odd not-smile again, restrained and secretive. “Then why are we here…?”

“I think I’d rather spend the evening in my room after all. Just you, me, and a few greasy cheeseburgers. I’m in no mood for stuck-up socialites and three hundred dollar steaks.”

Her eyes widened. “But the dress—your tux—”

“Are both appropriate attire for sitting on the floor in front of the TV.” He grinned then, and it lit up his eyes in a way she’d never seen. “I want to make you feel special, Stephanie. Not force you to sit through an uncomfortable evening somewhere where you don’t want to be.”

Realization clicked. “You planned this all along, didn’t you?”

“Absolutely.” He led her to the elevator and pushed the button. “I paid for our place settings already. It’s a worthy cause. But I’d rather not add to the excess wasted on these kinds of functions, when I’d rather have you to myself.”

He was insane. He was outrageous. He was an idiot…

…and he was absolutely perfect.

He really did know her too well—and she finally relaxed, content to lean against him as they stepped into the elevator. He pushed the button for the fourteenth floor. The moment the polished enamel doors closed, she snared her fingers in the lapels of his tux and pulled his body flush against hers. He leaned into her until the cold metal of the elevator wall made her shiver almost as much as the way he was looking at her.