Faking It (5 page)

“Cancer.” His throat was dry, constricting. “After that it was just me and my father, and the servants who raised me. He and I don’t speak anymore. I still send cards for my old butler’s birthday, but don’t even remember when my father’s is. That’s about the sum of my childhood.”

She bit her lower lip. “I’m s—”

“Don’t. Don’t say you’re sorry. I’m not. It’s in the past.” If only he could leave it there. He looked out the window and took a calming breath. “How long have you been in your current apartment?”

She watched him from the corner of her eye. “Almost a year.”

“Do you have any idea how unsafe it is?”

“If you start lecturing me I swear to God I’ll knee you in the nuts. Which is step two in my self-defense plan, by the way. The first is the pepper spray in my purse.”

“Touché.” He leaned back and crossed his ankle over his knee. “How old are you again? Twenty-four or twenty-five?”

“Twenty-four.” She met his eyes. “Are you the same age as Aaron?”

“Yes. Twenty-nine. Have you ever been in a serious relationship before me? Ever been engaged?”

“None that I want to talk about with
you
.” Her cheeks flushed red. “What about you? Any special women I need to know about? Any past fiancées or long lost loves?”

“I’m not the marrying kind.”

She tilted her head. “Never?”

“Never,” he said flatly.

“Good to know my fiancé is never getting married.” She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “Maybe we should be done with the interrogation portion of the evening. I’m tired already, and we haven’t even gotten there.”

He studied the arch of her neck. His fingers rested loose against his knee, but tightened with the need to touch. “Feeling a little too violated and probed?”

She snorted. “Please. If I was being violated or probed, this would be a hell of a lot more fun.” She covered her mouth and met his gaze with wide eyes. “I did
not
just say that out loud, did I?”

His laughter slipped out before he could contain it. “You did.” And now he couldn’t get the image of her writhing beneath him out of his head.

This evening was already off to a
brilliant
start.

Chapter Six

Stephanie stood outside the restaurant, took a deep breath, and grappled for the last shreds of her composure. That car ride had been excruciating. Her head pounded with a fierceness that wouldn’t quit, and she needed to be clearheaded and sharp tonight. At the very least, she needed decent hand-eye coordination. This was a seven thousand dollar dress, and she’d rented it for the night. The two-fifty for the rental had hurt enough. A seven thousand dollar linguini stain would put her in debt for the rest of her life.

She held her hand out to Derek. “Ready?”

He closed his fingers around her palm. Bolts of warmth shot up her arm and worked their way down to her core. The way he was looking at her, his wild black hair shadowing his eyes until they glowed, his regard unwavering…he left her knees trembling, her stomach hot.

“Yes, I’m ready.” His grip tightened. “Let’s go get you an investor.”

They walked into the restaurant hand in hand. The lushly decorated room was ivory and gold and a dazzling wealth of tiny point lights that turned the ceiling into a breathtaking sunset strewn with early stars. The amount of glitz and glamor at every table probably represented half the country’s GNP. Stephanie already felt horribly out of place. She spotted Mr. Wheeler’s table immediately, and tugged Derek that way with a smile. At least Wheeler was a familiar face.

“Good evening, Mr. Wheeler.”

Mr. Wheeler stood and offered his hand. “Good evening, Ms. Miller.” They shook hands. He studied Derek. “Mister…Rory, was it?”

“Yes, sir.” Derek shook Mr. Wheeler’s hand, then slid his arm back around Stephanie’s waist. His fingers burned through the thin fabric of her dress. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Indeed.” Mr. Wheeler smiled and settled back into his chair. “Please. Sit.”

Rodgers emerged from the back of the restaurant. His cheeks were red and his sneer firmly in place. “Ah, I see the young couple is here at last. We were starting to suspect you forgot all about us.”

Stephanie bit her tongue. The man was full of piss and vinegar and lies. He was the epitome of the sleazy businessman. Derek squeezed her hip in warning, seeming to sense how close she was to telling Rodgers exactly what she thought of him. Political games and fake smiles were not what she’d pictured when she’d chosen her career.

Clenching her teeth, she summoned up her perfect Corporate Barbie smile. “We are ten minutes early, sir.”

“If we’re late, it’s my fault.” Derek stepped forward and pulled Stephanie’s chair out for her. “I couldn’t decide between the red cummerbund or the black.”

Mr. Wheeler laughed. “And they say women take the longest to get ready.”

“Not in our house.” Derek gently pushed her chair in. “I’m afraid I’m the diva between us.”

Stephanie stared—at his easy, charming smile, at how glibly he moved, spoke, chuckled—and wondered where this Stepford fiancé had come from. He caught her eye, the warning clear:
play your part.

“Uh.” She fiddled with her napkin. “He’s being kind. I took hours getting ready.”

“Every minute was well spent,” Derek said, his eyes locked on her.

From the heat in his gaze, she could almost believe he meant it.

The waiter arrived, and Mr. Rodgers took the liberty of ordering for all of them. The most expensive thing on the menu—lobster and filet mignon. She would have preferred a burger, but she kept silent. Played along like a good little girl, even if she had no idea how to act at meetings like this.

After their waiter filled their glasses with wine, Stephanie lifted her drink and smiled. “To a lucrative future together?”

They all toasted, and Stephanie met Derek’s eyes over their glasses. Though he wasn’t smiling, his eyes were warm. “To the future,” he echoed, his voice full of promise.

Damn, he was
good
. Too good.

She tore her attention from Derek and smiled at Mr. Wheeler. After taking a sip of Moscato, she asked, “Have you had a chance to look over my proposal?”

“Yes, I have.” He sipped from a tumbler of whiskey, then reached into his briefcase. He pulled out a manila folder and stretched to pass it over the table. “And I’ve come prepared with more questions of my own.”

Stephanie took the folder and eagerly opened it. A hand covered hers, holding the file shut. Not Derek. Derek’s touch tingled with a disturbing familiarity, one that was absent now. The fingers covering hers were thick and bristled with coarse white hair. Mr. Rodgers. She should have known from the sick feeling in her stomach.

He looked down at the file. “Let’s save business for later.”

“Isn’t that why we’re here, though?” Stephanie looked at Mr. Wheeler. “Sir?”

Wheeler smiled. “I don’t mind holding off for now. I’d like the opportunity to get to know the people I intend to do business with.”

“All right.” She pulled free from Rodgers, tucked the file into her briefcase, and hid her unease behind her wine glass, taking a slow sip and stealing the moment to compose herself. “What shall we discuss, then?”

Wheeler crossed his fingers together. A wedding band sparkled in the light. “Tell me a little more about yourself. How did you two meet, Derek? May I call you Derek?”

“Of course.” But Derek said nothing else. Stephanie shot him a look, but his calm, easy smile was no help.

She gulped. “You want to know how we met.”

Crap. Crap crap crap. She’d come prepared to talk business with a few idle personal comments—not make up stories about the romance of the century. Why couldn’t Wheeler be a smarmy business-first jerk like Rodgers, instead of this kindly-eyed old coot with a fixation on wedding bells? He was probably already picturing her pregnant with her first litter. She and Derek could breed like bunnies. Little baby Poindexters toddling everywhere.

She thought she might faint.

Wheeler was waiting. Worse, Rodgers was watching her with a pointed look, the warning in his eyes clear.

“Um.” She cleared her throat. “Derek tells it better.”

“She’s just saying that because she doesn’t remember.” With an unbelievably genuine chuckle, Derek slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his dizzyingly warm body. “Swiss cheese memory. Just the other day she forgot her umbrella. Again.”

“I didn’t forget!” she sputtered. “The weatherman said it wasn’t supposed to rain!”

“That’s what you said the first time, too.”

Derek’s gaze nearly burned with warmth as he looked down at her. She was tempted to sway into him. Tempted to believe that this open, relaxed man was the real thing, and for just a moment she could pretend…

Wheeler’s chuckle broke the spell. “You two bicker like you’ve been married ten years already.”

“Because he never lets me forget the umbrella thing.” Stephanie made herself look away from Derek, and only hoped her smile was as genuine as his. “That’s actually how we met, even if he
thinks
I forgot.”

God, they were still watching her. It was like doing a monologue on stage without a script. Or any idea what she was supposed to be doing.

There wasn’t enough wine in the world for this.

Derek’s fingers curled against her arm, then circled slowly. She glanced up at him, took a deep breath, then said, “It was raining, and I was meeting my brother for lunch. I was in a hurry. My brother isn’t in town often, and I don’t get to see him much. His work takes him away.”

She felt so calculating, talking about her brother this way to play up the family angle. Even if it was the truth, it was a truth Wheeler was lapping up like pudding.

“So on my way there,” she continued, “he told me a college friend was joining us for lunch. He was always trying to hook me up with his lame friends. Exhibit A is right here.”

Derek snorted. “Lame. But when she wants me to do the dishes, I’m the best fiancé ever.”

“Correction: if you ever actually do the dishes, you’ll be the best fiancé ever.” She leaned into his embrace with a laugh. “Seriously, my brother’s friends were all these stuck-up frat boys who cared more about their hair than I did. So I’m on my way to the restaurant, expecting to meet some jerk in a popped collar polo, when it starts pouring down rain. Turns out my knight in shining armor was more a knight in shining business shoes.”

Derek’s fingers walked up her arm, giving her the shivers. “I couldn’t leave you standing there. You were soaked.”

“And freezing.”

“I was more than happy to keep you warm.”

His crystal blue eyes captured her, pulling her deep into their ice-fire intensity. Her breath caught, and she leaned closer—until Rodgers cleared his throat. She coughed, pulled away, and steadied herself with a long drink of wine, swallowing so quickly her head spun.

“Anyway. He shared his umbrella and offered to walk me wherever I needed to go. I was close enough to the restaurant that I tried to make a dash for it—and he was right behind me. I thought he was following me, or something…I didn’t know.”

Wheeler laughed. “I think I see where this is going.”

Stephanie smiled ruefully. “Yep. I’d just been rescued by my brother’s best friend. I was actually relieved. I looked like a wet poodle, so I thought maybe this one wouldn’t hit on me.”

“You underestimate the appeal of wet poodles,” Derek murmured, and Wheeler burst into laughter.

“The two of you are a delight,” he said. “It’s lovely to see a young couple genuinely in love. The media is so full of these sensationalist, loveless celebrity marriages. It’s a travesty.”

The lie stung deeply, and Stephanie lowered her eyes to her wine glass. It was almost empty. She polished it off in one quick gulp, then closed her eyes against the rush. Derek’s grip tightened on her, steadying her, and she looked up into his concerned gaze. No—that was a lie, too. He wasn’t worried about her. He was just a really good actor, and this lie was just digging her into a deeper and deeper hole.

She forced a smile. “Anyway. Long story short, he ordered me to go out with him that night, I told him to go to hell, but he showed up on my doorstep anyway. He’s ridiculously charming when he wants to be.”

“And ridiculously persistent when charm doesn’t work. And it usually doesn’t.” The rich, soft affection in his voice made her throat knot. No man had ever spoken in that tone about
her
, and the first time it happened it was a fake? “I had to fight her tooth and nail to even get her to give me a chance, but it was worth it.
She
was worth it.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her hair. “Still is.”

Her eyes burned. Her vision blurred. How drunk
was
she? She tried to speak, but the words didn’t come. The way Wheeler was looking at her, he probably thought she was overwhelmed by the love between them.

Not by her crippling, painful guilt.

Rodgers filled the silence with a snide, false laugh. “How sweet.”

Stephanie was saved from answering by the arrival of their food. She had to force down a few pieces of broccoli before her throat loosened, but at least the food helped to dispel the effects of the wine. Unfortunately, it didn’t do much for her embarrassment. Her cheeks remained flushed throughout the meal. She couldn’t believe she’d gotten drunk and let her emotions run away with her during a business dinner. At least Wheeler hadn’t seemed to mind.

As they waited for the dessert course, she offered Wheeler a smile and dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “How did you meet your wife, sir?”

“Janelle and I were high school sweethearts.” Wheeler’s voice softened. “We married fresh out of college.”

“Romantic,” Stephanie said, and chuckled. “If I’d married my high school sweetheart, I’d probably be the wife of a jailbird.”

An awkward silence fell. Wheeler’s smile turned polite and thin. Stephanie’s stomach turned, period. Maybe the wine hadn’t worn off after all.

Derek came to the rescue with a low laugh. “In college, Aaron used to tell me stories about his baby sister and her thing for bad boys. That’s why he was always trying to get her to date his friends. Including me. I just happened to be the only decent one of the lot.”

“Cocky,” Stephanie said, and shoved him lightly.

“That’s why you love me.”

Right now, she almost did. Thank God he was quick on his feet. He’d just saved her ass, and she owed him. Big time.

Wheeler was watching them a little too shrewdly, but he said nothing, save to turn to Rodgers and ask, “So how did you meet your wife?”

“At church,” Rodgers replied, with as angelic a smile as a weasel could manage. “Singing over a shared hymnal.”

It took everything in Stephanie not to laugh. He couldn’t be serious. If Rodgers loved anything, it was money. She doubted he was capable of loving another person.

Wheeler studied Derek. “And what do you do in D.C.?”

“I own a marketing firm,” Derek replied with an offhand shrug. “As well as a few franchises in a local printing business, and…”

The list left Stephanie staggered. She tried to contain her surprise. He owned his own corporation? He’d failed to mention that part, while filling her in on all those lovely little details he’d been so stubborn about.

Damned tight-lipped bastard.

Somehow, Wheeler and Derek managed to dominate the conversation with talk of the D.C. investment market—but not one word about her proposal. After the dessert course, Wheeler stood and shook hands all around. “It was a pleasure, Ms. Miller. I’ll see you in the office Friday. I’ll be by to discuss our proposal.” He smiled. “Perhaps the following Saturday night, we could meet for dinner and a show.”

Panic gripped Stephanie in nasty little claws. Dinner and a show. This was how the big dogs played, Rodgers had said. It wasn’t enough to just have business meetings, they had to be wined and dined and thoroughly impressed. The full shebang. Emphasis on the
bang
, with Stephanie. It was a miracle she hadn’t tripped on her heels and landed face-first in a punch bowl by now.

Saturday. That was six days from now. She could keep this up for six more days, and with a minimum of bodily harm—provided Derek was willing to keep up the farce.

She plastered on a smile and looked up at him. “What do you think, honey? Dinner and a show this Saturday?”