Derek hesitated before starting the car. “It’s a beautiful day. Would you like to go for a drive with me, maybe take a stroll through Chinatown or visit Golden Gate Park?”
“Thank you, Derek, that sounds lovely, but I can’t,” Summer answered regretfully. “I have plans for today. I really should be getting back home.”
She wondered if the brief flicker of expression that crossed his face was disappointment. She found herself hoping that it was.
At her door she thanked Derek politely for buying her breakfast and promised to have Connie call when she returned from Los Angeles the next day.
“Thanks.” Derek stood awkwardly just inside the apartment. Why was he so reluctant to leave? he asked himself. What would she do if he were to kiss her? He’d been aching to taste her smile since the thought had occurred to him at breakfast. Even before that.
Summer wondered if she should offer him a cola or something. Derek seemed almost reluctant to leave, and to be honest, she wouldn’t mind spending a little more time with him. She had about half an hour before Clay picked her up for their late-morning appointment at Halloran House. Giving in to temptation, she said, “Would you like to stay for a little while? We could… we could get to know each other a little better. After all, you are my best friend’s brother.”
“Summer—” Derek bit off whatever he’d been going to say, looked at her in silence for a long time, then reached out to touch her cheek. A butterfly touch that elicited a fluttery little response somewhere in the pit of her stomach. She stared at him, wide-eyed, as his head lowered very slowly. He was going to kiss her, she thought in startled wonder. Why? Did she really want him to?
God, yes.
She felt his breath on her parted lips. And then the telephone rang.
Derek jerked his head up and around, staring at the instrument as if he’d like very much for it to explode into oblivion. Feeling much the same way, Summer cleared her throat and limped to the end table where one of the apartment’s extensions sat. “Hello?” she asked a little hoarsely. “When, tonight? Sure, that sounds like fun.” She felt Derek move restlessly beside her. “Yeah, Clay’s supposed to pick me up in about a half hour. I’ll tell you about it tonight. See you at seven. Bye.”
Derek looked particularly stern when she turned uncomfortably back to him. “Uh, Derek—Well, darn,” she muttered as the telephone rang again. She looked at him apologetically.
“Look, I’d better go. I’ll see you later, okay?” Derek ground out, heading for the door. She had men standing in line for her, he told himself angrily. Damn.
Her hand on the telephone receiver, Summer swallowed a sigh. “All right. Thanks for breakfast, Derek.”
He only nodded as he walked out of the apartment. Summer picked up the telephone, explained that Connie wasn’t home, promised to relay a message and hung up.
Chewing on her lower lip, she walked into her bedroom, thinking that her impromptu breakfast date with Derek had been unexpectedly nice. They got along quite well when they weren’t talking about Connie. Or Summer’s limp. She wondered why her self-directed jokes bothered him so much. Most people thought the comments were funny and admired her for being able to laugh at life’s misfortunes. Obviously, seeing her scars had bothered Derek so much that he didn’t even want to discuss them. Her hand went unconsciously to her knee. Derek wasn’t the first man who’d been turned off by her scars and her limp, she reflected grimly.
She tried to divert her thoughts by remembering how easily she and Derek had conversed, almost like old friends. Then she told herself that he would probably have even more to talk about with a woman like Joanne Payne, the senator’s lovely daughter. The thought made her feel depressed again.
As she gathered the things she would take with her to Halloran House, she tried to tell herself that she couldn’t care less whom Derek dated. There was certainly nothing between Summer and Derek, other than their mutual involvement with Connie. Perhaps he was a little attracted to her, as she was to him, but that was all there was to it.
“It’s just that I think Connie’s wrong about Derek,” she told the enormous Winnie the Pooh bear that sat beside her bed. “He’s a pretty nice guy, even if he is a little stuffy and arrogant, and all he needs is to fall madly in love with someone who’d keep that lovely smile in his eyes.”
Now what had put that thought into her head? “I wasn’t talking about myself, of course,” she assured the sympathetic bear, patting his one-eared head, her fingers lingering on the heavy stitches that repaired the gash where his other ear had once been. “I’m waiting for a hero, remember? Derek might look kind of heroish, but he’s just too… too proper. He’d… he’d probably bore me to tears inside a week.” Now why didn’t she have more conviction in her voice?
And why were her thoughts lingering on the brush of his lips against her scarred knee and the look in his eyes as he’d been so close to kissing her just before the telephone had interrupted? She wondered if she felt relieved or disappointed that the phone had stopped that unwise move.
Disappointed. Definitely disappointed.
SUMMER HAD CONSIDERED going to church Sunday morning, but for some reason she hadn’t been able to go to sleep until very late the night before and she overslept. In an attempt to lighten her mood, which was rarely that gloomy, she turned on
her radio and dressed in a bright purple sweatshirt and her most comfortable jeans. By early afternoon she had thoroughly cleaned the apartment and was restlessly trying to think of what she wanted to do for the remainder of the day. She could call a friend and go shopping, or there was a barbecue that she’d been invited to attend. She’d gone to a movie and then out for drinks with two women friends the night before—it had been that invitation that had interrupted yesterday when Derek had been about to kiss her—and her friends had assured her that the barbecue party would be “crawling with hunks.” So why didn’t she want to go? She dropped onto the couch and rested her chin in her hands, wondering why none of her usual pastimes held any appeal for her that day. When the telephone rang, she lifted the receiver with a spark of optimism, hopeful that the call would provide the answer to her boredom. “Hello?”
“Summer, it’s Derek.”
“Derek!” She wondered at her sudden surge of excitement, then scolded herself as she realized why he was calling. “Sorry, Connie’s not back yet. She probably won’t be home until late.”
“I wasn’t calling to talk to Connie,” Derek replied unexpectedly. “I wondered if you have plans for the afternoon.”
“I was just trying to decide. Why?”
“Would you like to come to my house for a swim? We can throw some steaks on the grill afterward for dinner. I’d like to talk to you about Connie.”
Her initial pleasure at the invitation evaporated with his explanation. “I thought I’d made myself clear about the subject of Connie, Derek. I like her, I think she’s getting along fine and I refuse to help you interfere in her life.”
Derek’s sharp exhalation was clearly audible through the telephone line. “Summer, I’m not asking you to help me interfere in her life. Connie’s my sister, and I’m tired of feeling like there’s a war going on between us. You’re her best friend, so I thought maybe you could help me find a way to make peace with her.”