Without waiting for her answer, he picked up her glass and extended a hand to help her down off the high stool. “What? No Sex on the Beach?”
“I’m trying something new,” she said, laughing lightly.
“If you’d care to try someone new…” The bartender, waggling his eyebrows, swiped a towel over the spot where Erin’s glass had been. “I’m available.”
“Cut the crap, George. Why would she want you when she can have me?” Derek asked, chuckling as he led Erin away.
Her skin tingled beneath his hand on her arm. Her heart thrilled to the feeling of his possessiveness. Did he really mean it…that she could have him? He might not have to ask twice.
He set her glass on the table next to his, and she noted that she’d guessed right about him. He was drinking scotch.
He waited until she’d slid into the booth and then moved in close. His thigh touched hers and she fought the urge to press her leg tightly against his. “Coming to a bar alone at night is a new experience for me,” she said, concentrating her gaze on the chocolate concoction. “I’m glad you’re here so I don’t have to sit by myself.”
“Only women who are trying to pick up a man sit at the bar alone. Is that why you were seated there? Or…” He squeezed her knee. “Did you think I would be tending bar?”
Either way, she was going to look bad, but facing the consequences boldly seemed the way to go. So, cocking her head, she tilted her chin to meet his gaze. “You haven’t used my business card to call me yet, so I thought I’d come by and ask why.”
“Aha,” he said, grinning. “You did come to see me, and it was my night off. I’m glad I came here for dinner so you weren’t disappointed. The prime rib is excellent, by the way. Are you hungry?”
“I hadn’t thought about hunger.” She realised after she spoke that wasn’t true, but food wasn’t what she hungered for. She craved male companionship—his, specifically. “I was lonely and bored.”
“Then you’ve come to the right place. I can be quite entertaining.” He chuckled. “I hope. At least, I can keep you company over dinner. How about it?” Derek squeezed her knee again, gently. “Say yes. I don’t want to eat alone.”
“Yes,” she said softly, her eyes craving the taste of those full lips of his. The brush of his moustache on her sensitive skin.
He touched her hand. “I’ll be right back. I’ll give the chef our order before it’s too late. The kitchen closes soon. May I get you another mixed drink or would you like wine?”
“Cabernet would be nice with prime rib, and don’t worry if the beef still has its moo. I like mine very rare.”
“A woman after my own heart,” Derek said, brushing her cheek with his knuckles as he rose.
How could I be so lucky? Running into him on his night off is even more than I hoped for. She loved the little touches he bestowed upon her. Tokens of affection… Was he always that way with women or did he feel the same crazy emotions she did?
Erin hurried to the powder room to fluff her hair, adding a head shake for good measure. She applied blusher and straightened her slim skirt and silk pullover. Satisfied, she returned to find Derek waiting with the wine and two Caesar salads.
He stood up to let her slide in again and then moved close so their thighs touched the same as before.
If this evening should wind up with the two of us fucking our brains out, I’ll be sorry I ordered such a gigantic meal. She picked up her wine.
Derek raised his glass to hers. “Here’s to full truths.”
She clinked and drank, but his toast puzzled her. Full truths about what?
They made idle chit chat while devouring their salads, Erin careful to eat only part of hers so she’d be able to manage her prime rib. Derek, who finished his off along with a dinner roll and his wine, picked up the bottle, refilled his glass and topped off hers.
After their dinners arrived, they ate in silence, concentrating their attention on the delicious beef and steamed asparagus. “This prime rib is scrumptious,” Erin murmured, “the best I’ve ever tasted.”
He nodded and turned to meet her gaze. “I wouldn’t lead you wrong.”
Derek seemed a master of the double entendre and Erin puzzled over it. When they’d both begun to show signs of slowing, she spoke again. “Tell me a little about yourself,” she said, nervous about asking but eager to know him better.
“Nothing exciting to tell. I grew up in Pennsylvania. My dad’s parents were from Italy, hence my last name, Acampora, but they moved to America early in their married life and Pop was born in Pittsburgh. He met Mom, whose heritage was German, and she chose to name me ‘Derek’ after her great-uncle. Go figure. I guess she just liked the name.
“Anyway, I grew up eating a lot of Italian dishes because Dad’s mother taught him to cook, and since she and Granddad lived next door, I learned to make homemade ravioli and all that good stuff.” He raised his glass to Erin. “I also learned how to choose wines and I ordered one of my favourites for you. Do you like it?”
“Very much.” She took another sip, savouring the taste. “Was bartending a lifelong goal then?” she asked, smiling.
“What’s wrong with it?” He pretended…she hoped it was a pretence…to be offended.
“Nothing at all. Really. I think it looks like fun, especially when you make shaker drinks.” She raised her hands and imitated the motion.
Derek sat back in his seat, chin raised. “Did you always want to be a substitute wife?”
“Touché.” Lea had pretended to be Mike’s wife and Julie and Jon’s mother when he’d asked for her help in keeping a secret from his potential publisher but… “That’s not an accurate job description. My partners, Lea and Margo, and I were married to successful businessmen who liked to entertain, and we became very good at it. After the three of us divorced, we put those talents together to form Wives-R-Us, an agency that helps single men with dinner parties, decorating jobs and organisation. We are by no means marital partner substitutes.”
“So you don’t fill in for the wife in the bedroom?”
“Derek, Derek, Derek. I so hoped you were above that,” Erin scolded, shaking a finger at him.
“I guess that’s not an original question?” He chuckled. “I should have resisted but couldn’t.”
“The answer is ‘absolutely not’ and to atone, you may reply to a question I can’t resist. I assume you’re not married, but I also know it’s not safe to assume anything. Are you?”
“Married? No.” Pushing back his plate, he took her hand and brushed his lips across it.
The flitting trail of his moustache hairs created a tingling that coursed throughout her body—up to her brain and downwards to harden her nipples before curling up in her belly and spreading like wildfire to create a burning desire between her legs. She ached for his lips on hers, longed to have them wend their way along her skin until they reached her pussy. She’d love for him to lick her clit. Suck it. Make it so hard she’d beg him not to stop.
“I might ask the same thing after the other night.”
She searched his face, wondering what he meant. “You mean my coming in here with Joseph and our son?”
Nodding, he narrowed his eyes. “Now, ask me the question that prompted you to come here tonight.”
“You mean why you haven’t called me when you must know that’s why I left my business card?” Just because she’d shown up with her ex and Joe, Derek surely didn’t think she was married. She set down her wine glass so he wouldn’t see her hand shaking. His demeanour told her he wasn’t joking.
“Can you blame me for not wanting to be one of the guys you’re juggling? Frankly, I can’t see why you’d want me to phone when you have two men in your life. A boyfriend and a husband…do they know about one another? Do they know you came here to see me tonight?”
Erin wanted to slap Derek. Instead, she clenched her hands at her sides. She hadn’t expected sarcasm and found the way he’d
set her up for it despicable. He’d invited her to dine with him and she’d found him as sweet as Crème Brule throughout the meal, but suddenly he’d turned on her.
Even though she understood how it might have looked to him, she suspected he knew better and was just giving her a hard time. Sitting ramrod straight, she moved as far away from him as the booth allowed. “Both boyfriend and husband are ‘ex’ and my son and his father were leaving the next day on a Mediterranean cruise.”
“So you were having a family moment.” Derek folded his hands in his lap. “You were all over Mitch and now he’s out of the picture? Care to explain that?”
Erin sighed. “We broke up the same night you saw us here at Rendezvous.”
Derek didn’t try to close the gap she’d created between them in the booth. “Why?”
“We discovered we had differing views on our relationship.”
“Meaning?”
She’d be damned if she was going to explain that she wanted to marry Mitch and he wasn’t interested. “Meaning you have no right to interrogate me and if this is how you usually act, I’m glad you didn’t call.”
Snatching up her purse, she threw a twenty-dollar bill on the table. “I hope this pays my share of the tab. Now, if you’ll please move and let me out, I’ll relieve you of my company.”
*
Derek polished the top of the wooden bar, concentrating on a stubborn burn mark left over from the days when smoking was allowed at Rendezvous. He wished he could rub out the damage he’d caused between himself and Erin on Saturday. He shouldn’t have talked to her the way he did. He had no right to be jealous of her, but dammit, he was.
He’d smouldered when she’d cuddled up to Mitch. And when she came in with the kid and his father, Derek wished he were Joseph and the three of them were a family. He’d suspected she and the guy were no longer married, but he resented her being with him anyway.
When Derek thought about her having sex with those two, in the past or in the future, he wanted to bash Mitch and Joseph’s heads together. He threw down the bar rag. The burn mark wasn’t going away. Could he repair things with Erin?
“Something bugging you, barkeep?”
Derek recognised the voice of Lawrence Larrison, and looking up to see his partner seating himself on a stool, Derek broke into a grin.
“What brings you to this neck of the woods, Larry boy?”
“I wanted to see how you’re doing. Give me a Scotch scotch on the rocks.”
Derek reached for the bottle of their favourite brand and poured himself one too. He didn’t often drink on the job, but he was so damned glad to see Larrison’s familiar face, he felt like celebrating. They clicked glasses and each took a slug. The burn in Derek’s throat felt good. The last scotch he’d drunk was when he’d had dinner with Erin.
“I wanted to see what’s so fucking wonderful about this place that keeps you here. It’s cosy.” Larry shrugged. “But cosy doesn’t suit you. What are you hiding from?”
Derek moved off to serve a customer at the end of the bar. When he returned, he spread his legs wide apart, folded his arms and faced Larry. They’d met in law school, became friends and eventually partners in business, but Derek didn’t feel close enough to him or anyone else to confess. He was marrying a woman he didn’t love and the sorrow over that commitment had begun eating away at his gut.
“You know the story. I needed a change and when Bill broke his leg, it worked out that I could hold his job for him while doing myself a favour as well. He had the surgery he needed and was dismissed from the hospital this past weekend. When he gets a walking cast, he can return to work and so can I.”
“What does your bride-to-be think about you taking this gig?”
“She hasn’t complained. She knows it’s temporary and Bill’s my first cousin. She knows family is important. Is everything under control at the office?”
“The pro-tem does his job. He’ll make a good attorney. However, he’s driving me nuts with his snivelling mannerisms. I miss you, Acampora.” Larry shoved his glass across the bar top for a refill. “Tell the truth. Will you? Are the upcoming nuptials what sent you running? I knew you were antsy before you found out about Bill. If you don’t love the woman, admit it now and get the hell out of that mess.”
Derek, surprised by his law partner’s intuitive assumption, ducked his head as he poured the guy a fresh drink. “I can’t do that. She’d be humiliated.”
“You haven’t said as much, but she’s pregnant, isn’t she? Otherwise you wouldn’t rush into marriage with a girl your best friend hasn’t even met.”
He’d hit the nail on the head again, except Lawrence Larrison undoubtedly thought Derek was the father of his fiancée’s unborn child. “She’ll make a good wife. You’ll like her. There’s nothing to not like about Angel.”
She aimed to please, always, but she apparently hadn’t pleased the man who impregnated her enough for him to make her his bride. And remembering how her parents pressured her to be perfect when she and Derek dated in undergraduate school, he empathised too much to throw her to the proverbial wolves. Moreover, she’d acted so desperate when she came to him that he feared she might harm herself. If it worked out badly, they could divorce later, but he planned to give his all to making it work. She was a lovely woman, just wound too tight.
He hadn’t been dating anyone anyway and they’d had good times together before he moved on to law school. So, touched by her distress at having nowhere to turn, he’d offered to marry her. She hadn’t put forth the idea and she’d acted surprised, even saying she couldn’t let him do that. But since then, he’d begun to suspect that was exactly why she’d shown up at his door. He also suspected she’d figured out that if she mentioned getting an abortion, he’d be horrified enough to propose. At the time, he’d thought she was frantic enough to do it and wanted to save her and the baby. Later, he’d come to the conclusion that she would never have been able to go through with it and he should have realised that.
She’d trapped him but he doubted she’d made a conscious decision to do it, and he couldn’t blame her for what she’d said or done in desperation. However, the regrets had just started to set in when Bill fractured his leg and gave Derek a chance to get away and think over things. A man with four kids and a pregnant wife—why the hell Bill couldn’t keep his penis in his pants, Derek didn’t know. But he did know his cousin couldn’t afford to lose his job.
Doctors had told Derek, after complications had set in following an illness he’d had years ago, that he’d never be able to father a child, and he’d accepted that fact. But the prospect of holding a tiny infant in his arms held a certain appeal and this might be his only chance to become a dad. Plus, his own father desperately wanted the family name carried on, so this baby, while not biologically Derek’s, would bear the name Acampora. The best he could do, he hoped it would mollify his father.
Living in a furnished apartment near the Club instead of his own house, working at a bar and feeling like a different person, Derek had almost come to terms with himself and the commitment he’d made—until Erin Fox walked through the door of Club Rendezvous and taken up residence in his mind. And since he’d pissed her off, he’d thought about her even more.
“Nothing to not like? What the hell sort of prescription is that for marriage? Women are tough. This Angel, if she’s so damned agreeable and nice, can take it. Just promise to give the baby a name and pay support.”
Derek poured himself another scotch and chugged it. Then he poured another and refilled Larry’s glass as well. What the hell? If he got drunk, he’d spend the night here at the Club. He couldn’t tell anyone he wasn’t the baby’s father, not if he was going to raise the kid and put his name on the birth certificate.
“I have a…uh…problem…” Was the scotch beginning to slur his words? Derek went on. “The thing is…I have the hots for another woman.”
“There. That proves it. You have to get out of your
marriage plans,” Larry said, pounding his fist on the bar. He pushed his glass away, adding, “I have to drive.”
“I can’t back out. I proposed and promised. However…” He’d be a sonofabitch to go back on his word, but with the sacrifice he was making, he at least owed himself some fun with Erin. “I’m going to call that other woman tomorrow when I’m sober and then I’m going to fuck her until I get her out of my system. I just…” Derek downed Larry’s scotch, “just gotta make sure I don’t fall in love. She’s hot, Larry, and totally irresistible.”
Chapter Six
“Good morning, beautiful lady.” The postman, Robert, closed the door to Wives-R-Us behind him and laid the day’s office mail on Erin’s desk.
A handsome blond in his late twenties, his words and demeanour brought a smile to her lips, despite the bad mood she’d been in the past few days. Since Derek’s brush-off capped off a terrible Saturday with Angel, she’d been wallowing in self-pity. After a blue Sunday and Monday feeling sorry for herself, Erin was surprised her lips still knew how to curve upwards.
Robert was endearingly cheerful every day he delivered and he consistently called her ‘beautiful lady’, an especially welcome greeting this morning. She’d felt unattractive following Derek’s putdown and might have phoned Mitch to invite him over for reassurance if Derek’s remarks hadn’t also made her feel like a tramp.
“How come you’re always in a good mood, Robert?” she asked, standing.
“It’s better than the alternative,” he responded, dimpling. “Seriously, I’m in love and life is great. I haven’t taken the mail to your house yet, but if you’re in need of something to make you happy, there’s something here that might help.” He handed her a small package sent airmail. “It’s always fun to get presents, don’t you think?”
“It’s from Joey! My son. He’s on a cruise with his father. Thank you.” Robert was on his way out and Erin was already tearing open the box.
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