Fortune's Heirs: Reunion Page 25

  Even though a hidden, more logical part of him adored her for what she was trying to do.

  As she lifted her chin and concentrated on drinking her cider, Derek wanted to say he was sorry, to brush his fingers over her temple and hold on to her.

  But he was too strong to do that. Too mired in old habits.

  While Seth cleared his throat and Jonathan shuffled his shoes, Twyla caught Derek’s eye. She was sending him a saucy smile, just like the ones he’d caught all of last week.

  But before Derek could discourage her with a stern glance again, a hearty laugh filled the outer lobby and he saw that Patrick was approaching. The old man had been at the presentation, nodding the whole time, offering his tacit support.

  Derek’s hero.

  His former partner burst into the room, a bolt of welcome energy. “Here they are, the company’s saviors!”

  Immediately, the team’s spirits rose. Dammit, Derek could take lessons from Patrick: Don’t let your soft spots affect your attitude and get in the way of work. Always be encouraging.

  As Christina hugged Patrick, laughing with him, Derek felt more alone than ever.

  “Christina’s right,” Twyla said, having sauntered over, as if sensing his isolation. “You’re the best, Derek.”

  The way she said it, voice teasing, lashes lowered, made the New York Derek go, “Hmm. Gimme a Lite.”

  A woman like Twyla, with her one-inch skirts and three-inch heels, could banish his bad mood very easily.

  But as Christina talked with his old partner, her words as bubbly as the sparkling cider, Derek realized that all his Lite cravings had gone flat.

  Or maybe his fascination with this woman was just a phase, a hunger to have what seemed impossible.

  Twyla was pulling on his sleeve suggestively, so Derek patted her shoulder in a professional manner, letting her know that he wasn’t interested.

  With a disbelieving arch of the brow, Twyla shrugged, then went back to the cake table to refill her cider glass.

  Ten minutes later, after Patrick had flattered them all he could, the team vacated the room, promising Derek they were getting right back to work.

  That left him with Christina and Patrick.

  The older man grasped his protégé’s shoulders. “I knew I made the right choice, asking you to turn this place on its head. You make me proud, son.”

  Derek couldn’t hold back a swell of gratitude. “Thank you.”

  “Christina.” Patrick kept one hand on Derek and hugged her with the other arm. “Initially, I had no idea what a team you two would make. Now, the sky is the limit. You’re both absolutely golden around here, and I’m not just talking about the opinions of the bigwigs. From the clerical assistants to the brokers, word has already gotten around about the programs. When I walk around the building, I can feel a change in the air. Excitement. Optimism. Something we were lacking before.”

  It looked as if Christina were about to walk on air. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that. Let’s just hope this change is for the long term.”

  “I have no doubt of it.” Patrick squeezed both their arms. “How about whooping it up with dinner tonight? My treat for such a stupendous job.”

  Derek glanced at Christina at the same time she checked out his reaction.

  Dinner? she was probably thinking. Wouldn’t that be too personal?

  But how could she use that as an excuse when she’d laid one on him last night?

  Seeing nothing untoward in the situation, Derek said, “I’m in.”

  Christina still hadn’t answered.

  “Come on,” Patrick said to her. “Lacey will come. And we’ll bring your folks, too. What do you think of that Brazilian steak house near the river?”

  Obviously, the mention of other diners had put Christina more at ease. “Sounds great.”

  “Seven thirty, then.” Patrick nodded, making the offer final.

  “Gotcha.” Christina gave him one last hug, then made her way toward the exit. “I’ll need to get cracking if I’m going to accomplish anything today. Derek, I’ll clean up the cake later. Patrick might want some.”

  Then she waved and left the room, Derek training a gaze on the way her hips swayed while she walked.

  “Buddy boy.” Patrick poked him in the ribs with an elbow, and Derek straightened up.

  The old man had a curious gleam in his blue eyes. “Is that notorious Rockwell animal magnetism working on her?”

  “Christina?” Derek shook his head, went back to his desk. “She’s off-limits, Patrick. Look but don’t touch. That’s my motto with employees.”

  “Is that what you were saying when young Twyla was ready to puddle at your feet?”

  Twyla? It took a second for her face to register over the lingering image of Christina.

  “Listen,” Derek said. “We’re both guys. We know how we function. So maybe I’ve thought about Christina in ways that are…let’s just say ‘intriguing.’ But that’s as far as it goes.”

  Patrick didn’t say anything for a second. “That’d be your loss, then. She’s quite a woman. I guess some lucky man will find that out soon enough.”

  A shard of envy cut through Derek, but he didn’t respond to the bait. Instead, he said, “So seven thirty, huh?”

  Nodding with a grin, Patrick raised a hand in farewell. But not before he lobbed a final comment at his protégé.

  “Work away, my boy. I hope it’s enough to keep you warm at night.”

  Then he was gone, the observation leaving Derek cold.

  The steak house was decorated like a rain forest, brimming with greenery, waterfalls and a Latin drum soundtrack. Waiters went from table to table, offering different varieties of meat that they carved right off their skewers: lamb, pork tenderloin, filet mignon, rib eye. This piecemeal method of eating was known as churrascaria del rodizio, derived from a time when cowboys used to barbecue their food over an open flame.

  To Christina, it was food heaven.

  And willpower hell.

  Kind of like that kiss with Derek had been.

  As she sat at the table with him, Lacey and Patrick Fortune and her own parents, she tried to keep her mind on family. The bet. Her work.

  But it just wasn’t happening.

  Every time she took a sip of Syrah wine, the wet warmth of it would remind her of his lips, the spicy taste of him. She wanted to savor the memory, take it into her until she shivered with the heady feelings he’d evoked: Passion. The longing for the slide of his bare skin against hers. Acceptance.

  But that last part had been real quick to evaporate. Acceptance. After all, when he’d ended the kiss, he’d acted as if it hadn’t even happened.

  Well, she’d taken the hint, wounded and maybe even relieved that he’d ignored her folly. And this morning at work, they’d gone about their business.

  Best thing that could’ve happened, really. She’d gotten that one moment of impulsive desire out of her system, and she was all the better for it.

  She was ready to forget and party the night away.

  For the hundredth time, she concentrated on keeping her attention away from him and on her joyful companions. But it was so hard, with Derek sitting right next to her, freshly showered and wearing a smart button-down with khaki pants and Doc Martens.

  She’d changed out of her office garb, too, choosing something more casual after her own shower. An herbal-scented body splash. Black underwear and bra. A sleeveless “little black dress” that was elegant, yet understated. Black pumps with straps decorating her ankles. An intricate black hair clip to hold back a loose chignon.

  But even though she was wearing black, her insides were smoldering, still sizzling with longing.

  When she’d arrived at the restaurant, Derek had been the only one at their reserved table, on time to the minute. He’d watched her walk to him, a feral flare in the way his gaze bathed her from her toes to her head.

  “You look like Audrey Hepburn at a fiesta,” he’d said, a rag
ged crack in his voice.

  She’d wanted to cuddle against him right there and then, but she knew what sort of reaction she’d get.

  More rejection in spite of the invitation. Who needed that?

  Then, minutes later, Lacey and Patrick had arrived. The magnate’s wife commanded the room with her cool grace, blond-gray hair swept back, green eyes connecting with Patrick’s every other second, it seemed.

  And then Mama and Papa had come through the door, dressed in sunset colors, raining kisses on their daughter when Patrick lavished more praise on her work.

  They’d ordered wine, dined on meat and conversation, the hours passing like minutes. Even Christina, who normally didn’t indulge or loosen up around business associates, found that the company and surroundings had liberated her even more.

  Now, as they enjoyed after-dinner drinks and the restaurant crowd slimmed, the party still hadn’t ended for their table.

  “I have to admit that this is a fine eatery,” said Jose, her distinguished papa who liked to dress in swanky suits. He was wearing one even now. “It doesn’t compare to Red, but then, what does?”

  Mama tweaked her husband’s arm. “Your restaurant is the toast of Texas, mi corazon. You don’t have to fish for compliments from us.”

  “Yes,” said Christina, “even now I’m dying for one of Papa’s wonderful margaritas. No one makes them like Red.”

  “Oh,” he said, “you do make me conceited, Christina.”

  Derek raised his caipirenha, a drink similar to a margarita, but with the emphasis on lime.

  “Here’s to pride in a job well done,” he said, “whether it be in Jose’s restaurant, Patrick’s businesses, Maria’s knitting store, Lacey’s charitable causes…”

  He took a deep breath, making the table laugh as they proffered their glasses, too.

  “…Christina’s grace under pressure or my tendency to crack the whip too enthusiastically.”

  “Amen to that,” added Christina, thinking of the day he’d dragged her away from the barbecue for the sake of work.

  While they all clinked glasses and drank, Derek nudged her leg with his under the table.

  She did it right back to him, carried away by the high spirits.

  “Such a taskmaster,” Patrick said, sounding tipsy and jolly as his voice bounced off the restaurant walls.

  The sober Lacey put a finger to her lips. “Shhhh. Lower the volume on that megaphone.”

  Mama giggled, having consumed her share of wine.

  Thank goodness they were all taking Patrick’s chauffeured Town Cars back home, Christina thought.

  Patrick bussed his wife on the cheek. “Thank you, my darling.” He started again, softer this time. “A taskmaster. That’s what our Derek is. I saw that aura of success when I first laid eyes on the boy. I’m pleased to have been the one to discover him.”

  “I’m happy about it, too.” Derek, who seemed more relaxed than usual, but hardly inebriated, was watching Patrick with great affection.

  The emotion snuggled around Christina’s heart.

  “And I’ll tell you this.” Patrick leaned an elbow on the table, pointing a finger in the air, glasses slipping down on his nose. “He’ll own the world in two years, give or take.”

  Lacey adjusted her husband’s glasses, then caressed his cheek.

  Mama balanced her arms on the table. “My Christina is quite the winner, as well. Did you know that she made the dean’s list every year in college? And that she’s received numerous awards from her employers?”

  “I did,” Patrick said, winking at Christina.

  She flashed a smile back.

  “Did you know,” he added, “that Derek closed on one of the biggest business deals in New York history?”

  “He’s exaggerating,” Derek said.

  “Bigger than Donald Trump?” Jose asked, impressed.

  Patrick looked secretive. “Let’s just say Trump doesn’t always work alone.”

  Papa gaped at Derek. He watched The Apprentice way too much.

  “Bueno,” Mama said, “but Christina won a big jogging marathon in L. A.”

  “Oh, stop,” Christina said, laughing, even though she was embarrassed.

  “We’re so proud of both of you.” Mama held a hand over her heart. “You two, with your ambition and drive, match each other in so many ways.”

  Ay.

  Christina could sense Derek’s gaze on her. But she wasn’t going to look. One glance would break her down.

  Don’t do it, she thought. Don’t…

  She did.

  Christina’s blood started bubbling, fired up from the spark of their eye contact.

  He was lifting an eyebrow, his grin indicating that he wasn’t at all offended by her mother’s runaway mouth.

  Maybe he was even interested…

  Nah. A relationship with Derek Rockwell? It could never work. And based on Christina’s experience with bosses, she wasn’t even willing to give it a chance.

  Too bad, because with the way she was feeling tonight—after such a successful day—she was somewhat out of her mind, temporarily brave, willing to step out of her personal-space bubble and take a risk.

  When Patrick started agreeing with Mama about the whole “perfect match” thing, Lacey whipped out her napkin and covered his mouth with it, wiping away the remnants of dinner.

  “This one’s got to catch his jet to New York in the morning,” she said. “I think it’s time to tuck him in to bed.”

  “Ooh la la,” said Christina, the words slipping right out in the groove of the moment.

  Everyone oohed and chuckled, causing Patrick to teasingly shake his finger at Christina.

  Next thing they knew, Jose was noting that old people aren’t equipped to party like the young. And, besides, they were the only ones left in the restaurant.

  Grudgingly, all of them stood. Dinner had come to an end.

  Patrick settled the bill, and they all thanked him, making their way out the door. Then the Town Cars pulled up, waiting for them as they said their goodbyes, Mama hugging Derek like one of the family before the vehicles drove them away.

  That left Christina all alone with the boss.

  Away from the office.

  Going back to her condo seemed like a social death to her. The night was too beautiful. The dinner had been too uplifting.

  Why did it have to end? she thought, not wanting to face another quiet night.

  “You going to get home all right?” Derek asked.

  In his more casual clothes, he seemed less intimidating, more like a man she could approach and talk to—if she normally did that sort of thing.

  Before she could think about what she was saying, the words tumbled out.

  “Actually, I was thinking of getting a drink.”

  He paused. “A drink?”

  “Yeah.” Oh, boy, what had she done? He was going to pretend she hadn’t invited him anywhere, just as he’d done with that kiss. Ignoring the heat, the heavy breathing, the arduous contact of their bodies.

  “I’m too hyper to go home,” she added.

  “You’ve really loosened up.” He laughed, running a hand through his hair. What was next? A “Thanks, but no thanks”?

  “I guess I’m still adrenalized. I only had one glass of wine all night, so it’s not like I’m out to get tanked.”

  “Oh, I’m not saying you’re drunk.” He paused.

  She steadied herself for the rejection. The hurt, just like she’d felt today in the office when she’d tried to compliment him about his performance.

  “You have a place in mind?” he asked.

  There was that grin again, aimed at her, ready to fire.

  My, oh, my.

  While her blood was busy pounding in her veins, she managed to nod. “There’s a great bar about a block away, also by the riverfront.”

  “I’m game.”

  There was a growl lurking just beneath his words. What had she invited?

  Whatever it was
, the threat of being exposed excited her.

  Christina, girl, she thought. What are you doing?

  Having fun, said a side that rarely emerged. Getting loose and enjoying life a little.

  “Come on then.” She led the way, flashing him a shy smile.

  And he followed, just as she’d hoped he would.

  Chapter Seven

  As Derek and Christina walked toward the riverfront bar, his mind kept reeling.

  Ms. Mendoza, frosty business analyst, had invited him for a drink.

  First a kiss and now…

  What the hell was happening?

  He could hear the place before they actually arrived. Salsa music, with its driving rhythm woven through with percussion, piano and bass, mixed with the night air.

  Bandini’s. It almost looked like a shack floating on the San Antonio River, with red chile and white fairy lights shining over the low glow of fiery lanterns. Many of the rickety wooden seats were empty, but that was only because everyone was having a great time on the roomy, planked dance floor.

  Christina, obviously moved by the steamy atmosphere, grabbed his hand and led him to the bar, where they each took a stool and ordered drinks. A margarita for her, a longneck beer flavored with lime for him.

  Then they drank and watched the dancers: The women in their red dresses, gyrating, flirting. The men responding in a musical counterattack.

  Leaning toward him, Christina spoke in his ear to be heard over the song. Her words tickled, warming him.

  “See the couple in the upper right corner of the floor?”

  Derek spied them, two particularly good dancers.

  “They’re here every time I come,” she said. “Champions or something.”

  Bending over to talk in her ear, Derek caught a whiff of her hair’s herbal fragrance, the perfume of her skin. He shuddered, getting used to taking her in.

  “There are such things as salsa competitions?”

  When she maneuvered her mouth near his ear again, he turned his head to accommodate her, but not soon enough. Her lips brushed his cheek, and she drew back, laughing at the unexpected contact.

  Even though her mouth had left a burning imprint on his skin, he couldn’t help laughing, too, connected to her by the awkward, incidental touch. Back in the office, this would’ve been a big deal. But here, in a salsa bar with the moonlight and music, it was more of an icebreaker.