Faking It by Diane Albert Page A

kiss her. Kiss her so she’d stop asking her questions; kiss her so she’d stop prying at him, needing to know him. She wasn’t asking for his life story. She wasn’t asking for the dirty details, like how many beatings it had taken before Derek had fought back against his father. Like the words spoken between them when he’d walked out, and become his own man.
    Because he was never really his own man, as long as he lived by the rules his father had whipped into him, beating the last of his defiance out of him.
    Maybe it was a spark of that defiance that made him speak. “My mother is gone,” he said, and took a deep breath. “She died when I was a boy.”
    She made a soft, sympathetic sound. Her hand on his arm was like a little spot of soft flame, burning through his coat sleeve. “How did it happen?”
    “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