Swallowing another sip of her punch, Summer swung one leg in time to the music pounding over their conversation and replied, “Not actively. I’m waiting for the kind of hero Bonnie Tyler describes in her song, and they seem to be in short supply.”
A slight frown creased Derek’s brow behind his dark-framed glasses. “What song?”
“Sorry. I should have known you aren’t into rock and roll. It’s called ‘Holding Out For a Hero.’”
“Oh. So what special qualities must this ‘hero’ possess?”
A flippant grin punctuating her words, she responded lightly. “Well, for starters, he has to have a great sense of humor. And he has to be adventurous and occasionally impulsive yet always there when I need him. I’d want him to be kind and caring, strong in more than the physical sense and emotionally mature. Like I said, there aren’t many of them around.”
Derek studied her face. “I thought you only wanted to party. Doesn’t seem like you should want anyone to be beside you in times of trouble if you don’t have times of trouble,” he pointed out.
“Everyone has times of trouble. Times when it would be nice to have someone to lean on,” Summer answered, unaware that her eyes had filled with an old, distant sadness as she thought back five years to a time when she had needed someone and to a man who had not been there for her. Then, realizing that she was allowing the conversation to become too heavy, she pasted her best party-girl smile back on her animated face and added, “Even Minnie Mouse has good old Mickey.”
Derek’s eyes gleamed with a sudden inner smile. “You’re saying your hero is Mickey Mouse?”
She laughed. “Close enough.” With the conversation back on a light line she was much more comfortable, able to throw off the past.
“Maybe the problem is that you’ve been dating the wrong kind of men. Maybe you should try dating men who are more—”
“Like you? Thanks, but no thanks,” she quipped, though she wondered what she would say if he did ask her out. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to turn him down, particularly if he was standing as close to her as he was now.
“Have I just been insulted? What’s wrong with men like me? I’m emotionally mature, and I’m particularly good in times of trouble.”
“I’m sure you are, but you’re entirely too proper and conventional. I know it drives you crazy that Connie quit school and has no career goals and that she never misses a chance to party. You just can’t resist offering her advice on how to improve her life. Like Connie, I would frustrate someone like you, and I would get tired of always being expected to follow your suggestions. A real hero for me would be a cross between you and…and someone like Clay McEntire over there.” She pointed to a rugged, blond jock-type who was doing a really funny impersonation of a Motown backup singer as an oldie from The Temptations played in the background.
Following the direction of her pointing finger, Derek grunted and shook his head. “I’d jump feetfirst into a tar pit before I’d make a spectacle of myself like he’s doing,” he admitted. “Wouldn’t it bother you to put on that kind of performance?”
“Oh, I’ve given a few performances in my time. Sometime Clay and I will have to show you our special impression of Gladys Knight and One Pip,” she answered humorously. “You can’t have any fun if you’re stiff and formal all the time, Derek.”
“Fun,” he replied thoughtfully. “You call this party fun?”
“Very much so,” she answered decisively. “Do you really dislike it all that much?”
“No.” He looked directly into her eyes. “Not at all.”
She started to ask him to elaborate, then decided not to. His proximity was doing unusual things to her senses, and suddenly words eluded her—an odd experience for Summer Reed, who always had a ready quip on her lips. She could smell the crisp after-shave Derek wore and see the sheen of tanned flesh where the indirect lighting of the room fell on his face and throat. She was also becoming inexplicably fascinated by his eyes, their color changing from dull pewter when he was serious to a gleaming silver when they reflected the smile that barely touched his stern mouth. She was becoming more and more aware of his physical attributes, which she found rather dismaying.
“Are you actually admitting that it’s okay to enjoy a party?” she asked him quickly, forcing her voice through her tight throat.
“Occasionally,” he replied. “But there’s no excuse for making it one’s only purpose for living as my sister seems to do.”
Summer straightened defensively on her stool, glaring at the man beside her without a trace of her lovely smile. “Connie is my best friend, Derek Anderson, and she’s a terrific person. Sure she’s made a few mistakes in her life, but who hasn’t? You should consider yourself lucky to have her for a sister rather than trying to change her into your idea of the perfect young woman.”
“That’s telling him, Summer.” Standing just behind Summer’s shoulder, Connie applauded her roommate’s indignant speech. Her improbably red hair worn in a shaggy semipunk style and her green eyes outlined liberally with kohl, Connie looked even younger than her twenty-five years in her baggy sweatshirt, which hung almost to the knees of her skintight black leggings. She could not have made a more startling contrast to her brother’s conservative attire. “I should have warned you, Derek, my friend Summer won’t be any more hesitant about telling you off than I am. You don’t intimidate everyone, you know.”
“I never tried to intimidate you, Connie.”
Watching in silence, Summer thought she detected a shade of sadness in Derek’s eyes. She believed that he truly wanted what was best for his sister, though he couldn’t seem to accept that Connie had a right to her own mistakes. She turned her eyes to Connie and recognized the wistfulness in her friend’s voice when she answered. “You just refuse to believe that I’m completely happy the way I am, don’t you, Derek? You won’t let me forget the mess I made of my marriage to Stu, as if none of it would have happened if I had only listened to you.
“But how could I have listened to you, Derek? Where were you when I was seventeen and madly infatuated with a handsome young actor? Somewhere in Europe or Southeast Asia or the Middle East, giving advice, as usual. I never saw you, I hardly ever heard from you and yet I was supposed to conform exactly to your expectations for me. Well, forget it, Derek. I’ll do just fine without your advice now, just as I always have before. And if you’re disappointed with what I’ve become in the fifteen years since you went off in search of adventure, that’s just tough.”
“Connie—”
“Hey, Connie!” someone yelled from across the room. “Come on, let’s dance.”
“I’m on my way,” Connie yelled back, then tilted her head defiantly, looking at Derek even as she called across the room, “Let’s party till we drop! Who wants more punch?”
“All right! Bring on the punch!”