“How’s your leg?” Derek asked when they were seated on the oatmeal-colored sofa in the den, two cups of coffee on the low table in front of them.
“Fine. Tell me about your work, Derek.”
He refused to take the hint. “It’s throbbing, isn’t it?”
“Your work? Interesting, perhaps, but hardly—”
“Summer.” He put the palm of his hand firmly over her mouth. “Your leg. Does it hurt?”
“A little,” she mumbled behind his hand, glaring at him.
Derek nodded shortly and dropped his hand. “I think I prefer the other way of shutting you up,” he told her, his eyes glinting silver with his smile. “With a kiss.”
Summer privately decided that she preferred that method, as well, but she chose to keep that thought to herself.
Derek patted his lap. “Put your leg up here. I’ll massage it for you.”
“Oh, I don’t—”
“Dammit, woman. Must you argue with everything I say?” he roared. “Give me the damned leg!”
Summer gave him the damned leg. “You’re so bossy,” she accused him resentfully.
Derek’s long fingers began to work magic on her aching knee. “And you’re so stubborn. Why did you push yourself so hard this afternoon? Your leg started hurting almost an hour before the rehearsal was over, didn’t it?”
She sighed. “It was the Cyndi Lauper dance,” she confessed. “I got a little carried away.”
“Why didn’t you stop? You could have rested for a few minutes.”
She shrugged. “If you take a break with those kids, you’re liable to lose them entirely. I didn’t want to risk messing up a great rehearsal. Wasn’t it terrific? There wasn’t even a major fight among the performers this time. Some of the kids really show talent, don’t you think?”
“They’re not bad,” Derek conceded, watching her face as he continued to massage the slender leg in his lap. His fingers were warm through the soft denim, and the tense muscles under them were slowly beginning to relax. “But you were the one with the talent.”
Summer found herself contending with conflicting sensations. Derek’s skillful massage was wonderful, the all too familiar ache in her leg receding under its effect with magical speed. Yet the movement of those long fingers on her thigh and knee were bringing another kind of ache deep in her abdomen, an ache that threatened to be infinitely more serious than the twinges of an old injury. Infinitely more dangerous. “Uh, thank you,” she said, remembering that he’d complimented her. Concentrate on the conversation, she ordered herself sternly.
“It’s really a shame that you abandoned your talent when you had the accident,” Derek commented, still watching her face for a reaction.
“Oh, I think the entertainment world is surviving without me,” Summer returned lightly. “Tell me about your travels with your government job, Derek. It must have been fascinating seeing all those different parts of the world.”
“Hotel rooms and smoke-filled offices look pretty much the same everywhere,” he replied, using the stock answer that he’d been throwing out for the past ten years or so. He had become an expert on evading questions about his former line of work simply by making it sound too dull to discuss. “You’re good with kids. Have you ever thought of teaching theater arts to young people?”
“You’re good with open-faced sandwiches. Have you ever thought about becoming a short-order cook?”
Summer almost flinched from the look of anger that Derek turned her way. “Will you take nothing seriously?” he demanded. “Don’t you ever get tired of turning every statement into a stupid joke?”
“Don’t you ever get tired of giving advice to other people about how they should conduct their lives?” she retorted evenly. “I’m not one of your clients, Derek. I haven’t hired you to offer your valuable services. Save it for the businessmen who want to hear it.”
“So you’re perfectly content drifting along the way you have been, working in a job you dislike, donating a few hours of your time to good causes, wasting the rest of your life playing games and making jokes?” His fingers had ceased their soothing motion and were gripping her leg in a white-knuckled clench that clearly expressed his frustration.
“Yes!” she answered hotly. “Face it, Derek. I’m exactly the shallow, empty-headed party girl you’ve thought I was all along. I know you’ve hated admitting that you might actually be attracted to such a person and you’ve tried to find a frustrated career woman inside me. It’s time for you to realize that she isn’t there. I’m exactly what you see, and I have no desire to be anything else.”
“You are a fraud, Summer Reed.” Derek’s voice was cold as he lifted her leg from his lap to set it with care in front of her.
She immediately scooted back to put more space between them, watching him warily. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. You’re a fraud. A fake. An actress putting on a twenty-four-hour-a-day performance. You act like an airhead hedonist to hide the fact that you were devastated by the accident that left you lame and took away your hopes of a career in entertainment. You continue to find dead-end jobs because you know there’s nothing you really want to do other than sing and dance and act. If you can’t have that, you don’t want anything. Right?
“You pretend that your hours with the kids at Halloran House are just a favor to your buddy Clay, not anything that brings you fulfillment. You keep avoiding serious relationships with men on the pretext of looking for a nonexistent hero, when the truth is that you’re scared. Because one jerk couldn’t deal with your physical imperfection, you assume that no other man could, either.”
“Stop it!” Summer shouted, appalled. Her eyes were a brilliant blue in a face that had gone white. “Who the hell asked for your opinion of me, Derek Anderson? What gives you the right to act like you know me so well?”
“Because I do,” he answered implacably. “I’ve watched you, Summer. I’ve read the shadows in your eyes, the expressions that crossed your face when you thought no one was looking. I saw the wistfulness there when your friends abandoned you in a corner while they danced at your party. I saw the courage it took for you to circulate with the people you didn’t know at my party, the tiny spasms of pain whenever one of my guests would innocently inquire about your limp. And I saw the sheer joy in your beautiful eyes this afternoon when you were working with those kids, singing and dancing and performing.”
Summer clasped her hands in front of her in an exaggerated show of amazement. “Derek, that’s incredible!” she jeered. “How long have you been a mind reader? You should work up a nightclub act, and I could be your assistant since I’m nurturing all these hidden desires to perform that you’ve told me about.”
“Dammit, Summer, stop it!” he shouted, dropping his hands on her shoulders and clenching his fingers as if he’d like nothing more than to shake some sense into her. “Can’t you stop joking even long enough to get mad at me? Curse at me or hit me or something, but stop hiding what you’re feeling behind this idiotic clown act!”
Summer felt something break inside her head, releasing a torrent of emotions that had been safely dammed for a long time. With the flood came an outpouring of words, furious and twisted and tumbling as they flowed from her mouth almost against her will. “What do you want from me, Derek? Do you want me to fall apart and sob into your shoulder about the cruel trick life played on me? All right, dammit!
“I hated waking up in a hospital with a bloody pulp where there had once been a pretty nice-looking leg! I hated the fear I felt when the doctors told me they might have to amputate! I hated the pain that was so excruciating that I screamed and cried and begged for drugs to make me sleep so that I wouldn’t feel it! I hated having the man I thought I loved look at me with pity, then tell me that he couldn’t deal with an invalid!
“I hated those months in bed, and the operations that left me with more artificial parts in my leg than real ones. I hated being in a wheelchair. I hated the walker and
the crutches. The exercises that hurt like hell yet were necessary if I ever wanted to walk again. And I hated knowing that for the rest of my life people will look at me with pity for the poor, crippled woman!”
Derek did shake her then, though gently. “Look at me, Summer,” he commanded her, holding her only inches away from him. “Look at my face. Do you see pity there? I said look at me!”
Tear-washed blue eyes tentatively searched his face. She saw the remains of anger there, and a pain that she wasn’t sure she understood. She ran her eyes slowly across his dark face, her gaze lingering on his emotion-darkened gray eyes. Anger, pain, desire, frustration—but not pity. Even after all she’d just told him. “No,” she whispered, remembering that he’d asked her a question. “I don’t see pity.”
“Summer, there is so much more to you than a quick wit and a fast mouth and a lame leg. Do you really think any of your true friends care whether you walk with a limp or would think any less of you if you carried on a serious conversation without cracking jokes? I know you love to laugh, and you’ve probably always been a tease and a cutup, but don’t hide your other nice qualities. Give people a chance to get to know the real you—fears and disappointments and insecurities and all. Nobody expects you to be perfect.”
Summer looked wonderingly at him for a long moment before dropping her head to stare at her lap. “When I was little, I learned that people love to be entertained,” she said quietly, almost surprising herself at what she was saying. Derek shifted on the sofa beside her but remained quiet, encouraging her to continue as if he knew that the explanation she was about to make was important to both of them.
“My older sister, Spring, was smart and serious and everyone admired her, and Autumn was the baby—beautiful and spunky and tough, which earned her respect at an early age. I could make people laugh. I could sing and dance and do imitations, and people enjoyed my performances. I thrived on the applause and the approval.”
She cleared her throat. “I found out that people are uncomfortable with the pain and fears of others, but everyone loves to share a good joke. So I hid my fears and insecurities and I always had friends. Sometimes I wished that I had someone I could cry with or tell my problems to, but I was afraid my friends wouldn’t have liked me as well if I stopped making them laugh.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered to your real friends,” he told her softly.
“Perhaps.” She didn’t sound convinced. She glanced up at him, then as quickly looked away. “I was quite popular in college. The other kids admired me because I didn’t seem to care whether I passed or failed while they sweated through classes in fear. I did care, of course, but I didn’t want anyone to know—just in case I failed. If they thought it was because I didn’t care, they wouldn’t think of it as failure, I thought.
“I had such big dreams. Few people knew the number of hours I spent practicing my dancing and my singing and my acting. I pictured myself as a star with constant applause and thousands of friends and fans. Then I met Lonnie.”
“The boyfriend? ‘Enry ‘Iggins?”
She didn’t smile. “Yes. He was gorgeous. And he had talent. I thought the two of us together would be a team to take the country by storm. He thought so, too. I don’t know if we were in love with each other or with our mutual dreams of stardom. And then I had the accident.” She swallowed. “He was so angry with me.”
Derek looked startled. “Angry?”
She nodded. “For ruining everything. He never did like me taking the motorcycle out on the streets—said it was too dangerous for a dancer. When I proved him right, he wouldn’t forgive me for taking the risk. He told me that a crippled girlfriend would hold him back, that he needed someone who could share his life in every way.”
“Bastard.”
“Yeah, well, anyway, those first few days after the accident were pretty grim. The pain and the knowledge that my dancing days were over made it hard for me to be brave. All I could do was cry. My friends didn’t quite know what to do with me. They visited me, of course, but it was easy to see that they were uncomfortable and they felt sorry for me. I hated that. So I forced myself to smile and built up a repertoire of gimp jokes. Pretty soon my friends were flocking back around me, telling me how brave and wonderful I was.”
“What about your family?”
Her face softened. “Bless their hearts, they were wonderful. They might not have understood me all the time. Maybe they didn’t know quite how much my dancing meant to me, but they knew I was in pain and bitterly disappointed and they rallied round me. My sisters were there to let me cry into their shoulders, and my mother bullied me into doing the exercises even when they hurt, then kissed me when I cried. My father put me straight to work to give me something to concentrate on besides my problems. I had to be careful not to become too dependent on them all.”
“Which is the reason you moved to San Francisco?”
“Yes. I had to prove to myself and to them that I was capable of functioning on my own. And I have. Even though they, like you, aren’t all that thrilled with the way I’ve chosen to live.”
“Perhaps they don’t approve, but do they pity you?” Derek asked perceptively.
“Why, no,” Summer answered, surprised that he would ask, “of course they don’t pity me. They love me.”
“Even though they’ve seen you at your lowest point, and they’ve heard you cry and curse and feel sorry for yourself?” he asked quietly.
She grimaced at him. “Another object lesson, Derek?”
“Merely an observation.”
She squirmed uncomfortably on the couch. “I don’t know why I always end up telling you my life story,” she told him accusingly.
“I know you think I’m interfering and nosy, but I can’t help it,” Derek confessed. “I’m not usually like this outside of business.”
“How did Connie and I get so lucky?” Summer asked dryly.
A touch of red darkened his high cheekbones, startling Summer. “Connie’s my sister,” he muttered. “I love her, and I want what’s best for her. And you, well, I… I like you,” he said with an uncharacteristic stammer. “It bothers me to see you hiding your pain and your feelings from the people who care for you.”
Summer’s own cheeks were suspiciously warm. “I’ve never even talked to Connie the way I just talked to you,” she admitted in a very low voice, almost a whisper. “I don’t know why I’ve been able to tell you things that I couldn’t tell anyone else.”
“Maybe because I’ve insisted,” Derek suggested wryly.
She smothered a nervous giggle. “That might have something to do with it.” She risked an atypically shy glance at him and found her eyes held by his. She found it hard to read the expression she saw deep in the pewter-gray depths. Had discovering her weaknesses changed the way Derek perceived her? Was he disappointed that she wasn’t as strong and tough as she’d pretended? Did he… did he still want her?
Suddenly she had to know. She couldn’t come right out and ask, but she could find out another way. “Would you… would you hold me, Derek?” she asked hesitantly. “Just for a little while?”
9
WITHOUT EVEN a momentary hesitation Derek took Summer into his arms. Folded against his wide, hard chest, Summer released a breath that she hadn’t known she’d been holding and snuggled into his strength. She felt his heart beating steadily against her cheek through the soft knit fabric of his white pullover. In only moments she felt the heartbeat speed up, just as her own was doing. Her arms went around Derek’s lean waist.
His hands moved on her back, tentatively at first, then more demandingly. Finally one hand moved up the back of her head, fingers threading through the short, silky hair there as he tilted her head back. They both felt her tremor as she turned her face up to his in mute invitation. He kissed her with a force that was surprisingly gentle, considering the fire and passion it incited in her.
“Derek. Oh, Derek.” Summer pulled her arms from around his waist to throw th
em around his neck.
“Summer.” Derek’s voice was so hoarse that neither of them recognized it. “I want you so much it’s driving me mad.”
She believed him. Derek didn’t pity her. He was not repelled by her scars or her awkward limp. He wanted her. As he pulled her rather roughly against him, she was made physically aware of just how much he wanted her. And she wanted him. Her fingers slid into the crisp hair at the back of his neck, curling there to bring his mouth down to hers.
Her eyes locked with his, she brushed her mouth across his lips, then back again. She felt the sudden stillness that gripped him, tensing his muscles against her. He waited, seemingly without breathing, as she drew back fractionally and then kissed him again, bolder now. The tip of her tongue slipped out to taste him. Derek’s short, dark lashes swept downward to hide the glitter of his eyes from her for just a moment before his feverish gaze locked once again with hers. That moment was long enough for her to recognize his vulnerability. Amazingly enough, Derek seemed unsure what to do next.
It was his uncharacteristic hesitation that removed the last vestiges of her own doubt. “I want you, Derek,” she whispered, her lips like wisps of smoke against his.
“Summer?” His voice was raw.
“Yes, Derek. Please.”
He gave a little sound that was half groan and half exultant laugh. As if he were afraid she’d change her mind, he swept her into his arms and off the couch before she was quite aware of what was happening. She put her arms trustingly around his neck, enjoying the feeling of being carried in the arms of the man who was about to become her lover.
Her lover. The thought made her go so weak that, had she been trying to walk, she would have fallen. She had never wanted another man this much.
Depositing her carefully on the geometric-print bedspread that covered a massive king-size bed, Derek began to tug at her white fleece top even as she reached for the band of his own white knit shirt. Both felt the need to touch and explore, and it was not necessary for them to put their desire into words. They communicated with their eyes and their lips, with husky little moans and breathless laughs, and when small, soft breasts were pressed at last to broad, plated chest, their delirious sighs sounded in stereo in the shadowed room.
Hero in Disguise Page 12
