When he had stripped to his conservative navy swim trunks, she’d realized that her first impression at the party Friday night had been correct. His body was as solid and firm as she’d first thought, corded with hard-earned muscles and marred only by an interestingly jagged scar across his left shoulder. Thinking of their silly repartee on the night they’d met, Summer mused that Derek’s body looked like that of an ex-spy’s, even if his sister would have scoffed at the very idea that he could do something so daring and irresponsible.
It had been easier than she’d expected to appear before him in her own swimwear. Though his eyes had drifted down to her scarred leg, he’d managed to keep any distaste he might have felt well hidden. He neither stared at the scars nor pointedly avoided them. Funny, she’d almost forgotten her earlier misgivings.
“Why are you keeping your right leg covered with your towel?” Derek asked suddenly, as if he’d read her mind.
Summer flushed a little and looked down. “Just habit, I guess.”
“Obviously you don’t always keep it covered or your right leg wouldn’t be as tanned as your left,” Derek pointed out logically. “Your scars don’t bother me, Summer. I have a few of my own, and I’m not trying to hide them.”
Summer sighed and brushed the towel away from her knee. “You’re right, of course. It’s silly.” She glanced at his shoulder. “How did you get yours?”
“Trying to prove what a hotshot jock I am,” he answered, telling her nothing yet reminding her that this was a man who enjoyed sports of all kinds. Sports she would never be able to share with him, she told herself rather cruelly.
“Where were you attending college when you had your accident?” he asked suddenly.
Grateful for the distraction of Derek’s question, Summer answered. “UALR—the University of Arkansas at Little Rock.”
“What was your major?”
“Theater arts.”
His eyebrow lifted. “Drama?”
“Mmm. Drama, dance, music.”
“Had you had any training before you entered college?”
“Yes. I took dance lessons from the time I was three years old, after one of my aunts—a frustrated ballerina—decided I showed some talent. I loved it, and though my parents thought it was basically a waste of time, they never complained about the expense involved.”
“What were you planning to do when you graduated?”
Summer fluffed her drying bangs with her fingertips and answered lightly. “Oh, I had dreams of becoming the next Mary Martin or Debbie Reynolds. I thought Hollywood would revive the musical comedy movies just for me.”
“Were you any good?”
“Oi was bloomin’marv’lous, oi was,” she answered in a shrill Cockney accent.
Derek nodded approvingly. “You played Eliza Doo-little?”
“I beat out two dozen others for the spring production of My Fair Lady my sophomore year. Which was rather surprising since I only auditioned to please my boyfriend, a gorgeous senior who’d won the part of ‘Enry ‘Iggins.”
Derek frowned at the mention of her old boyfriend but let it pass without comment. Still, he had more questions to ask. “How were your reviews?”
She sighed dramatically. “Alas, I’ll never know. I was on my way to the final dress rehearsal when I had the close encounter with the motorcycle-eating Ford. My stand-in got all the rave reviews.” Summer had gotten drugs to dull the agonizing pain in her shattered knee, and the news that she would never dance on stage again.
Derek sat still for a moment, studying her seemingly unregretful expression before finally asking, “Whatever happened to ‘Enry ‘Iggins?”
“As soon as he graduated, he headed for the bright lights of New York. He’s on a daytime soap now.”
“Do you ever hear from him?”
“No. He married an actress on the same soap. We broke up soon after my accident.” And she’d learned that active men did not want to be slowed down by a woman with a handicap. She’d do well to keep that in mind now, she told herself.
“Was he a hero-type?”
Summer forced a laugh. “Hardly. He took one look at my mangled leg in the hospital and fainted dead away. He managed to visit me twice before he announced that he just couldn’t deal with it and took off for New York. The really funny part is that he plays a doctor on the soap.”
“You don’t appear to be brokenhearted.”