When the doorbell rang again, she skipped her usual check in the mirror by the door. Anyone this impatient deserved to be greeted with the full hair-sliding-out-of-the-ponytail style she had going on.
She peeked through the peephole and froze. Oh, no, no, no.
He was here. Now. At her house.
“Open up, Ellie.” Derrick’s deep voice floated through the door.
She tried not to make a sound.
He sighed loud enough to shake the building. “I can see your shadow under the door.”
“Fine.” She performed the perfect eye roll as she undid the lock. “What?”
He started talking before she fully opened the door. “It’s eleven.”
“I own a clock.” Though she guessed she looked as if she didn’t own a brush. She could practically feel the tangles in her hair without touching it. Add in the shorts and oversize sweater that functioned as her pajamas and she was positive she made quite the picture.
“Are you sure?” His gaze wandered over her and stopped on her slippers. “Those are an unexpected choice.”
“Imagine me kicking you with them.” She stepped to the side and let him in. Why fight it? He was not exactly the type to scamper off.
He slipped past her, smelling all fresh and clean. Today’s suit was navy blue and fit him, slid over every inch of him, perfectly.
He walked to the center of the room then turned around to face her. “You were supposed to be in my office at ten.”
No doubt about it, he was much hotter when he didn’t talk. “No, you commanded that I give you an answer to your absurd fake engagement suggestion by a stated time and I declined.”
“Interesting.”
Since that could refer to anything, she ignored it and focused on another annoying fact. “Hey, how did you know where I live?”
He shot her a look that suggested he found the question ridiculous. “Please.”
That was not even a little reassuring. “Did Jackson follow me?”
“Jackson is in the car.”
Okay... “Is that an answer?”
Derrick looked around the room, from the couch to the rows of bookcases lining the walls and holding her collection of romances and mysteries. He kept going, skipping over the kitchenette and falling on the unmade bed against the far wall.
He turned and stared at her again, his expression blank. “Yes or no, Ellie.”
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. He was talking about the agreement. He needed a fake fiancée and, for whatever reason, thought she fit the description. “It’s not that simple.”
“It actually is.”
Of course he would think so. The entire agreement benefitted him. “We don’t know each other.”
He frowned. “You said that already. So?”
Such a guy. “Really? That’s your answer?”
“Again, for what feels like the tenth time, this is a business arrangement, not an actual romance.”
She joined him by the couch. “Now you sound ticked off.”
“I hate repetition.”
Poor baby. “Do you want a fiancée or not? Because I would be doing this for you, not me.”
“We both know that’s not true. You benefit. Your brother benefits.” Derrick shifted his weight and looked down. He stared at the magazines piled on her floor for a few seconds then pushed them to the side with his foot. “All you need to do is follow a few simple rules.”
She didn’t bother to debate his idea of a “few” because that could take them all day. From his scowl she guessed he wanted to add another provision to the agreement to forbid her slight tendency toward clutter.
“You say that but everyone I know needs to believe it’s real.” She scooped up the agreement and flipped through the pages then began pointing. “Here, look at this.”
He didn’t bother to glance down. “I’m familiar with the contract.”
“Then you know we’re supposed to live together.” Which sounded as absurd this time as when she’d read it earlier.
“My house is big.” His gaze wandered again. This time over to the boxes she’d gathered in case she needed to move in a hurry. “But I prefer you not live out of boxes. Haven’t you been in this apartment for seven months, like right before Noah started working for me?”
She snapped her fingers. “Derrick.”
“Don’t do that. Ever.” He put his hand over hers and lowered it. “What do you want to say?”
The touch, so simple and innocent, shot through her. She felt it vibrate through every cell.
She pulled her hand from his and forced her breathing to slow. “We’ve barely spent an hour together.”
“We’ll have separate bedrooms.”
As if that were the only problem. “But you expect me to act like a fiancée.”
“Whatever that means, yes.”
“It’s a direct quote from paragraph twenty of this thing.” She shook the agreement at him.
“I’ve never been engaged, but I figure we can work out the details as we go. You know, like do the usual things engaged people do.”
She suddenly couldn’t breathe. A big lump clogged her throat and she had no idea why. “Usual?”
“Shows of...affection.”
He may as well have said poison. “You should hear yourself.”
He exhaled as he stepped back. His hand swept through his hair and, for a brief moment, his thick wall of confidence slipped. He looked vulnerable and frustrated. She didn’t think any of it was aimed at her. Not directly. This was more about the circumstances they’d gotten stuck in.
“We both need things, Ellie. You want to help your brother. You have some work issues that I can resolve for you.”
“Are you going to give me a job?” She thought about her bills and her fears about losing her apartment. Growing up she never felt welcome or comfortable. Home hadn’t been a sanctuary, but now it was. The idea she could lose that security left her shaken.
“Yes, as my fiancée.”
With him that did sound like a full-time job. But pretending to have feelings might not be enough. They didn’t run in the same circles. She didn’t know anything about charity functions or season tickets to the Kennedy Center. “People aren’t going to buy this.”
He stepped closer again. This time his hands came up and his palms rubbed up and down her arms, gentle and warm. “We tell them we met while haggling about your brother. There was a spark and...boom.”
“Did you just say boom?”
Instead of backing away, he leaned in. “The legal fees stop. Your brother gets some direction and guidance. Your bills get paid and my shareholders stop whining.”
“You make it sound reasonable in a weird sort of way.” She was practical and everything about this plan, including the very real problem of lying to her brother, was anything but.
“It is.”
“My brother will go ballistic.” And she feared