“I’ll talk to you next weekend,” she promised and hung up the phone. When she went to sleep several hours later, it was with the hope that she and Derek did have a chance.
DEREK STARED DOWN at the phone, placed his glass of Scotch very carefully on the table beside it and stood motionless for a full minute. Then he suddenly punched the air above his head with one fist. “Yeah!” he yelled.
She loved him. Summer Reed loved him. High on a burst of sheer adrenaline, he was as exhilarated as he’d ever been after winning a marathon. His heart was pounding, his chest tight. She loved him. God, he felt good!
But how could she have walked away from him tonight after the most incredible lovemaking that he’d ever experienced? She had ripped him apart when she’d turned away from him after he’d told her he loved her. Maybe he’d been an arrogant jerk to assume she loved him simply because he loved her, but he could not imagine that she could respond to him the way she did and not care for him. And then she had closed her door in his face.
It had hurt. He hadn’t known anything could hurt that much. But she loved him. That knowledge erased the pain as if it had never existed. Thank God she had called.
Imagine her thinking that their unimportant diversities would keep them apart. He knew they had their differences. Did she think he was so dense he didn’t realize there would be compromises and sacrifices to make? There were some adjustments to make in any relationship that was worth pursuing. He could handle it. Summer was worth anything. But how could he convince her that he knew what he was doing?
Damn that spineless, self-centered actor who had walked out on her when she’d needed him. No wonder she was afraid to trust Derek’s emotions now. What was it about charming, shallow actors that his sister and Summer had both been attracted to them in their pasts? Now Derek had to repair the damage. But how? How could he convince her that they weren’t all that different?
He stood in deep contemplation for a while, then snapped his fingers. The grin that split his tanned face would have astonished his sister. It was an expression of pure mischief. Derek had a plan.
THE FLOWERS ARRIVED at her desk on Monday morning, a dozen red roses in an exquisite crystal vase. As the other women in the accounting department drooled in envy and her no-nonsense supervisor, Mr. Gleason, glowered at the distraction, Summer ripped open the card with fingers that displayed a disturbing tendency to tremble.
She knew right away that the bold, slashing script belonged to Derek, though t
he card was not signed.
You want romance? I’ll give you romance. I love you.
“Wow,” Connie breathed, coming from behind her desk to reverently touch the velvety petal of one perfect rose. “Oh, wow.”
Summer hesitated for a moment, then handed Connie the card. She had to share what she was feeling with someone. Connie read the card in awe, then looked up to shake her head and repeat, “Oh, wow.”
Summer took a deep breath and laughed shakily. “That’s exactly the way I would have put it.”
“This is so romantic. I can’t believe Derek did this. How can you resist this?”
“I can’t. And he knows it, the rat.”
Connie laughed as Summer shook her head in exasperation.
“ANDERSON.” Derek’s voice over the telephone was clipped.
“Derek? It’s Summer.”
His voice softened. “Oh, hi, sweetheart. Did you get the roses?”
“Yes, and they’re beautiful. But you’re not playing fair.”
“Hey, we never set any conditions about this week. I promised to give you time, but I never said I’d let you forget about me.”
“I hardly think I’m going to forget you, Derek.”
“You’re not kidding. I’ve gotta go, sweetheart. I love you.” He hung up before she could answer.
Derek smiled down at the telephone in satisfaction. He’d mapped out a precise campaign for the upcoming week, all carefully thought out to convince Summer that he was the man of her dreams. His siege had been planned as carefully as any mission he’d ever undertaken.
Once again the thought momentarily occurred to him that he should have told Summer the truth about the past, but still there was a reluctance to risk impressing her with a distorted image of a life of danger and adventure. No, better to leave it alone for now. That would make her eventual surrender to him all the sweeter.
Thinking of the delivery he planned for her to receive the next day, Derek grinned wickedly. He’d almost forgotten how to play during the past few years, he mused. The sights he’d seen in Vietnam and in back alleys across Europe and the Middle East had been grim enough to drive the laughter out of even the most lighthearted of men. But Summer had given him back the ability to laugh and the urge to play. He could love her for that, even if he did not already adore her for her sweetness, her warmth and her kindness.
Derek pushed a button on his telephone and leaned close to the speaker. “Miss Barrett, get my travel agent on the phone for me, please.”
ON TUESDAY a ragged bicycle messenger brought a thick manila envelope into the accounting department. Mr. Gleason looked more disapproving than ever when Connie immediately jumped up and rushed to Summer’s desk. “Well?” she demanded. “What is it?”