Faking It (17 page)

Epilogue

One year later

Damn it, it was going to rain again.

Stephanie hurried down the sidewalk. She was going to skewer that weatherman. One day she’d learn not to trust him. One day she’d learn to keep an umbrella in her purse, too.

That day wasn’t today. Son of a bitch.

She picked up her pace, nearly trotting down the street. If she made it to the coffee shop before the sky opened up, she could grab a hot drink and call a cab from the nice, safe,
dry
shop. The other option was going back to work wet. Since she didn’t live in town anymore, dashing home to change wasn’t an option.

Maybe her luck would hold until her lunch break was over. She just needed something to eat—and something to wake her up. Derek had kept her up late last night. While it did wonders for her mood, the effect on her work ethic was less than stellar. When her secretary had suggested she step out for some coffee, she’d jumped at the chance.

She stifled a yawn and sprinted at the crosswalk. She reached the shop right when the sky cracked open like a water balloon, and bolted inside just ahead of a torrential downpour. Phew. Shaking her head, she turned—and collided with pure muscle. Strong arms wrapped around her, catching her before she could fall.

“Forgot your umbrella again, love?” Derek asked, grinning.

She curled her hands into his shirt. “The weatherman said—”

“Dry and sunny?” He brushed her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

“As always. Every day is opposite day with that man.”

“And what did I say this morning?”

“I think it was ‘get that sweet ass back in bed,
bella
.’”

He cleared his throat, his mouth twitching. “The
other
thing.”

“I don’t recall.” She did, but like hell she’d let him gloat about being right. So he’d suggested she bring an umbrella. With fifty/fifty odds of being right, he had to get one some time.

“Memory loss. A sure sign of caffeine withdrawal.” He guided her toward the line with a warm, rough hand at the small of her back. “Come on.”

She tucked herself comfortably against him and breathed in his scent. He looked good enough to eat, in ripped jeans and a casual T-shirt—a far cry from the man she’d met a year ago. His swarthy skin looked darker against the pale gray shirt…but for once she was almost as dark as he was, still tanned from a week sunning herself on the beaches of Puerto Rico. When he hadn’t been dragging her to museums and a half-dozen ruins and archaeological dig sites, that was.

“Mmm,” she murmured. “Thought I wouldn’t see you again until tonight.”

He raised her knuckles to his mouth and kissed her hand. His blue eyes roamed over her face, making her tremble. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately. You know how tricky the paperwork is with non-profits. A million federal statutes to add an extra row of chairs in the lobby.”

“I know.” She stretched up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. You know how much this means to me.”

Once the ink was dry, they would be opening Miami’s first free urgent care clinic. It had taken a year of work, and more than a little frustration on both parts. But they’d done it. Together. They already had their next project lined up: a series of Latin cultural centers in both Florida and California, supporting Hispanic immigrants in integrating into their local communities.

He slipped an arm around her waist and hugged her tight. “We’ll be able to relax soon, and get back to real business.”

She peeked at him. “…like picking out wedding invitations?”

“Yes.” He laughed. “Like that. Your mother’s still fighting the bats, isn’t she?”

Stephanie pouted. “Yes. It’s not like I want to get married in a Batgirl costume.”

He raised a brow. “Tights, leotard…where’s the problem with that?”

“Pervert.” She slapped his chest with a laugh, then sighed. “I just hope Aaron will be home in time for the wedding.”

“He’ll make it. He loves you too much not to. Even if it means coming back in the middle of a covert mission.”

“I never want to know where he is. I worry too much.”

“…Kosovo.”

“I said I didn’t want to know!” She shoved him lightly. “Be careful, or I’ll leave you to fight my mother over doilies on your own.”

He grimaced. “No thanks. I’ll be hiding in the kitchen with your brothers.”

“Coward.”

“I prefer to call it self-preservation.”

“Are your friends coming?”

“Gray and Chris. Michael hasn’t answered my calls.” Their turn came, and he stepped up to the counter. “Your usual?”

“Mmhm.”

She leaned against him while he ordered their drinks. He always ordered for her, but she didn’t mind. He liked to take care of her. It didn’t make her soft, or helpless, to accept that.

Once he paid and they retrieved their drinks, they strolled to the door together and watched the rain through the glass. He glanced at her.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. “You’re quiet.”

“The fact that I have thirty minutes left on my lunch break.”

“That’s not much time.”

“My partner’s a softie. He won’t mind if I show up late.” She looked up at him through her lashes.

He grinned and traced the neckline of her blouse. “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

“Race you to the car,” she said—and bolted out into the rain, shrieking with laughter as she ran toward the Jaguar he’d left parked on the curb.

She’d thought for a moment he wouldn’t follow…but then his laughter chased her, warming the chill of the rain soaking her clothing. She would never get tired of his laughter, never get tired of discovering the reckless spontaneity he’d been hiding for so long. She loved him like this, laughing and chasing her through the rain, as much as she loved him when he was grave and quiet, or tender and caring.

He caught her just as she reached the car, and tumbled her into the back seat. His strong body stretched out atop hers, and he fit against her with intimate, skin-shivering familiarity. The thin layers of drenched fabric did nothing to conceal his heat, and she arched up against him.

“Really, Mr. Rory,” she purred. “In the back of your car?”

“Tinted windows,” he said, and leaned down to lick the sheen of water from her throat, making her gasp. “It’ll be our secret.”

He kissed her, stole her senses, swept her deep into the passion that only he could evoke. He laced their fingers together, pinning her wrists against the upholstery. His touch grazed her engagement ring, and she tightened her grip. She loved that ring. It was how he’d first told her he loved her, without a single word. How he’d first shown her his feelings had been real from the very start.

And as she wrapped her legs around him, as she took him deep and cried out his name, she gave a silent promise: she would show him her love in every kiss and every touch.

Every day for the rest of their lives.

Acknowledgments

This book would not be here now if not for the hard work of my superhero editor, Adrien-Luc Sanders. You have taught me more than you’ll ever know. You’re more than an editor, you’re a friend. And I’ll never, ever forget all you’ve done for me. I wish you nothing but happiness and great success in life—you deserve it.

And special thanks go out to Alethea and the rest of the Indulgence team. Thanks for providing the input needed to make
Faking It
shine like a penny.

Angie Marshall, you do not know how wonderful you are for helping me by reading this book literally as I wrote it in the short time I gave you. I know I can count on you, no matter what I need, and you’ve been there since the beginning of my career. I’ll never be able to express just how much I appreciate you, but hopefully this is a start.

To my family, as always, thank you for all of your support and love. I know I disappear from the world sometimes when I’m on deadline, especially with this book, and you all took it in stride. I love you.

Thanks to Entangled Publishing, and all of the authors there, for the support, love, and guidance. You all rock.

A special shout out to my partner in crime, who was cramming in mad word count right along beside me while I wrote this book. Christine Bell, you rock!

To my readers, bloggers and fans—I love you all!

About the Author

Diane Alberts has always been a dreamer with a vivid imagination, but it wasn’t until 2011 that she put her pen where her brain was, and became a published author. Since receiving her first contract offer, she has yet to stop writing. Though she lives in the mountains, she really wishes she was surrounded by a hot, sunny beach with crystal clear water. She lives in Northeast Pennsylvania with her four kids, a husband, a cat, and a Senegal parrot. In the rare moments when she’s not writing, she can usually be found hunched over one knitting project or another.

She is a multi-published, bestselling author with Entangled Publishing, Swoon Romance, and Decadent Publishing. She has, as of this date, four books with Entangled Publishing, one book with Swoon Romance, and five older books with Decadent Publishing. Her February release with Entangled Publishing, ON ONE CONDITION, hit #18 on the Barnes and Noble Bestseller List, and TRY ME, hit #76 on Amazon. She is represented by Louise Fury from the L. Perkins Agency.

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