A Hard Man to Love Page 5

  “Well, how does it feel?”

  Derrick shrugged. “Feels the same.”

  He sipped some of the champagne in his glass. Over the years, Derrick had harbored bitter resentment against him because Roarke Sr. had chosen to stay with his wife and child and reject Derrick.

  A lot had changed. A few months ago, they’d agreed to call a truce and work on establishing a better relationship. Despite the short notice, Roarke had agreed to be the best man, and their younger brother, Matthew, had agreed to be one of the groomsmen.

  “Hi there. I thought I’d squeeze in a hug since I didn’t get a chance to earlier.” Celeste, Roarke’s wife, walked up and wrapped her arms around Derrick. “I guess I’ve dropped to second most important woman in your life.”

  “You had your chance, but you chose to marry him.” Derrick pointed his thumb at Roarke. He’d been friends with Celeste long before she met Roarke, and in fact, he told them if it hadn’t been for him, they never would have gotten together.

  Tall, with her short, wavy hair falling in loose strands around her face, Celeste smiled lovingly at her husband and stroked his bearded face. “I think I did all right.”

  “That’s my baby,” Roarke murmured, planting a kiss on her lips.

  A groan sounded nearby. It came from Matthew. Although the youngest, he was taller and beefier than his older brothers. He sauntered up. “You guys are going to make me throw up. When is the honeymoon period over already?”

  “We’ve been married less than two months,” Celeste reminded him with a playful punch to the shoulder. “Can we enjoy it a little bit longer, if you don’t mind?”

  “Well, all right, I’ll give you a few more months.” He tugged on his tie. “Man, I can’t wait to get out of this damn monkey suit.”

  Celeste frowned at Matthew and darted her eyes at her daughter.

  “Oh, sorry,” he said, looking embarrassed. “This doggone monkey suit.”

  Celeste turned to Derrick. “So, how does it feel?” she asked.

  “Why does everybody keep asking me about how I feel?”

  “Well, you didn’t let us know you were seeing anyone seriously, and then the next thing we know, we get a call there’s a wedding in less than two weeks.”

  “I didn’t know I had to check in with everybody about my personal life.”

  “Not check in, but we’re family. This was kind of unexpected.”

  “Unexpected for you,” Matthew added pointedly, looking directly at Derrick. “She’s not your usual type. And I mean that in a good way.”

  “I’m glad you approve.”

  Derrick didn’t need any reminders about the other women he’d brought around his family. The worst incident had taken place New Year’s Eve, when the woman he’d taken down to St. Simons Island, to the Hawthorne family vacation home, had gotten drunk and slipped into Roarke’s bedroom.

  She’d sworn Roarke had made a pass at her, and an argument had ensued between the two men. The next day he’d been so disgusted by her behavior he sent her packing, but not before she blamed him for her indiscretion. She claimed if he paid more attention to her and wasn’t so distant, she wouldn’t have given in to his brother’s passes. He’d grown tired of her anyway, and her words held little to no importance to him. A long period passed before he admitted to himself that she had lied and, under false pretenses, helped to drive a deeper wedge between him and Roarke.

  “Does she have any family in town?” Celeste asked. “Maybe Cassidy and I could take her out to lunch one day.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Derrick said. “All of her close friends are on the island, and most of her family lives there and out west.”

  “Are you sure you want Cassidy to be her first extended introduction to the family?” Matthew asked. He enjoyed making fun of his younger sister, even when she wasn’t around. She and her husband had already left. “She might scare her off.”

  “Cassidy’s not even here to defend herself,” Celeste said with a shake of her head. “You’re awful.”

  “I don’t think he knows how to be any other way,” Roarke said.

  “Your fault, big brother. You helped raised me.” Matthew grinned.

  “Where did I go wrong?”

  “All right, you two, simmer down.” Celeste’s eyes found Roarke’s. “It’s getting late, and I need to get missy to bed. We should head home soon.”

  “You two run along,” Matthew said. “The rest of us grown folk will shut the place down. The band’s still playing, the liquor’s still pouring, and some of us have plans, which include getting some h-o-t sex.”

  “Matthew!” Celeste scolded him. “You spelled the wrong word. And anyway, she can spell. She’s six, not two.”

  Derrick and Roarke had a good laugh at his expense. “Damn, I’m sorry, Celeste.” He rolled his eyes when he realized he’d cursed again. “Cover her ears,” he said in exasperation.

  “Give me my baby.” Celeste took the exhausted Arianna from Roarke. The little girl moaned softly and wrapped her little arms tightly around her mother’s neck.

  Derrick imagined one day he would be doing the same—whatever he could to protect his daughter and preserve her innocence for as long as possible.

  “I’ll leave you men to finish up your conversation in the absence of a minor child.” She playfully cut her eyes at Matthew before walking away.

  “I said I was sorry,” he called after her. He propped his shoulder against the wall. “So where are you and the mystery woman headed for your honeymoon?” His gaze trained on the bridesmaids standing near the exit.

  “She’s not a mystery woman. You’ve met her.” Derrick repositioned himself on the stool. “We’re putting off the honeymoon for a while, until I can get things under control at work.” He didn’t bother to mention his family was in the process of contesting the will, another reason he couldn’t risk taking off for an extended period.

  “Hmm,” Matthew said distractedly, his gaze still focused on the women at the front. One of the bridesmaids momentarily paused in her conversation and looked in their direction. She smiled coyly and then looked away. A lascivious grin crept across Matthew’s face, and he pushed away from the wall. “Excuse me, gentlemen, some seeds I’ve planted have sprouted. I’ll have to call it a night.”

  “Are you ever going to slow down?” Roarke asked.

  “Slow down?” Matthew had a look on his face like Roarke had asked the most ridiculous question he’d ever heard. “Like you old married men? No way.”

  “Who’re you calling old?” Derrick asked. “Thirty-three is not old.”

  Matthew touched his hand to his chest. “I’m only twenty-seven. I’m in my prime. You guys are old, so I understand why you felt the need to get married.”

  “Thirty-three isn’t old, Matt,” Roarke said. “One of these days you’re going to meet a woman who knocks you off your feet, and then you’ll be eating those words.”

  “Yeah, yeah, cry me a river.” Matthew started backing away and patted his stomach. “Nice touch with the filet mignon, Derrick. Congratulations to you and the new missus. I’m out.”

  He strolled across the almost empty ballroom and stopped in front of the young women. He bent his head to the one who held his interest and whispered in her ear, which made her giggle. As they slipped out the door, he flashed the thumbs-up sign behind his back to his brothers.

  Derrick lifted the glass of champagne to his lips. “I remember those days,” he said before taking a sip.

  “They weren’t that long ago.” Roarke seated himself two stools down.

  True. Until he met Eva, he’d been as bad as Matthew. Women came easily, and because he came from money, it was even easier. He’d partied quite a bit in the VIP rooms of exclusive clubs, hanging with celebrities, and jetting around the world to various events—some known, others so secret invitations had to be hand delivered. He’d partied hard, but he’d worked hard, too. Whenever he worked on a business project, he gave it a hundred and ten pe
rcent. Phineas had insisted on it.

  It had been nothing for him to drop thousands of dollars in a night to impress a woman, but he’d always gotten bored easily. The relationships never had any substance, and he’d been content to play the field—until her.

  “Now we’re alone, how about telling me the whole story about Eva? Matthew’s right. She’s not your type.”

  “You don’t know what my type is.”

  “Actually, I do, and it’s not her. And, considering this is your wedding day, the two of you haven’t been acting like a happily married couple.”

  “This is the part where I tell you to mind your own business.”

  Roarke laughed softly, unconcerned by Derrick’s ill-tempered response. From the corner of his eye, Derrick saw him stroke his jaw. “I can’t figure this out.”

  “There’s nothing to figure out,” Derrick said irritably. “Why don’t you go home with your wife and daughter? Like she said, it’s late.”

  Roarke twisted in his direction on the stool. “Enough joking around. It’s obvious the two of you have been avoiding each other almost all night. Maybe no one else has noticed, but I have. If it weren’t for the kiss during the ceremony, I’d think you couldn’t stand each other. Most newly married couples leave the guests partying at the reception. The two of are among the last ones here. What’s going on?”

  Derrick’s jaw tensed. “Nothing.”

  “Derrick, are we going to do this or not?”

  He looked at his brother’s solemn face. “Do what?”

  “This.” Roarke motioned from one to the other. “Be brothers. Be family. Be closer.”

  “If you think I’m going to start spilling my guts to you, you’re wrong. It’s only been a few months. I don’t even know if I like you yet.”

  “Yet you asked me to be your best man.”

  “I was trying to be nice.”

  “I didn’t think you knew how,” Roarke grumbled. He swiveled in the chair and faced the open room again.

  Derrick went back and forth internally about how much to share. Heart-to-heart conversations were not his forte. “You’ll find out soon enough anyway.”

  “Find out what?”

  “Why I married her.”

  “Well, why?”

  In a flat voice, he said, “She’s pregnant.”

  Roarke digested the news in silence. “That’s the only reason?”

  “What other reason would there be? We’re not like you and Celeste.” He waited before adding, “We’re having a girl.”

  “Congratulations.” Quiet. The band stopped playing, and the couples meandered off the dance floor. “I was thinking, you didn’t have to marry her. You could have moved her up here to have them close.”

  “I could have, but I chose to do it this way. I want my daughter near me at all times.”

  They fell silent again. Of course, he should have known Roarke wasn’t finished. He must have been mulling over the situation for a long time, his astute brain in analysis mode to make sense of what had happened—how Derrick had gone from single to married in a matter of weeks, without warning.

  “Seems like a pretty drastic step to take just to have your kid. You’re telling me you had no other alternative? I admit I don’t know her well, but from what I’ve seen so far, Eva doesn’t seem like the kind who would have kept you from your child.”

  Derrick tossed back the last of the champagne and set the flute on the bar with unwarranted force. He didn’t answer to anyone, and he wasn’t in the mood to explain himself to Roarke. He rose from the stool.

  “It doesn’t matter now, does it?”

  Roarke cast a speculative look up at him. “No, I guess not. Except . . . I was thinking—”

  “Stop thinking.” He’d grown weary of this conversation real fast.

  “If you hadn’t married her, you would still be free.”

  If he hadn’t married her, so would she.

  Free to do whatever she wanted, with whomever she wanted. He could have set them up in a house, but the thought of other men coming there, sleeping there, weaseling their way into his daughter’s life didn’t appeal. If his daughter was going to love any man in her life, it would be him, not some random man Eva picked to be her stepfather. He wanted to be there for every moment, from the time she was born. He couldn’t stomach the thought of her growing attached to another man or calling someone else “Daddy.”

  “Freedom is a small price to pay to have my daughter with me at all times.”

  Roarke fell silent again, but not for long. “What happened between your mother and our father happened years ago. I hope you’re not going to make Eva pay for what they did. She seems like a nice person.”

  “The nice ones are the ones you have to watch.” He took note of Roarke’s frown. “Don’t worry, big brother,” he said, even though only three months separated them. “I’ve learned from the mistakes my parents made so I won’t repeat them.”

  He glanced at the Panerai watch on his wrist, wondering about Eva’s present location. She’d excused herself fifteen minutes ago and hadn’t reappeared. As the thought crossed his mind, he saw her in the doorway.

  She looked over at him, and he clenched his jaw to constrain the reaction he had to her. Every time he saw her, he had the same uncurbed reflexive response, like one of Pavlov’s dogs. His body hardened, his senses heightened, and he damn near salivated.

  Yes, he wanted his child, but part of him recognized he had wanted her, too, and he had wanted to have exclusive rights to her.

  He hated the power she seemed to have over him, and that was part of why he’d agreed to give her a period to get used to the marriage and living together. He needed to prove to himself he wasn’t weak for her and the unchecked lust he felt could be contained. In the time since they broke up, trying to prove any woman would do had been difficult. The physical ache that had encumbered his body since May was for this woman alone, and his efforts to prove otherwise had resulted in unsatisfactory hookups.

  She walked toward them and smiled at Roarke, who rose to his feet.

  “Welcome to the family. One more hug.” Roarke embraced his new sister-in-law. “I promise that’s the last one for a while.” To Derrick, he said, “We’ll talk later.”

  Derrick nodded, though he had no intention of discussing his marriage any further.

  Within minutes, he and Eva sat in a hired limo, on their way to start their new life together.

  Chapter Seven

  The next day, Eva awoke after a surprisingly restful night. She turned over onto her back and stared up at the silk canopy above the bed. She must have been more tired than she realized because as soon as her head hit the pillow, she had fallen asleep.

  The mansion was located in Buckhead, an affluent part of the city. Last night they had driven past a number of stately homes, with bright lights bringing attention to immaculate landscaping, as if they all competed for neighborhood bragging rights.

  Some of the homes sat at the end of long driveways, so far back they were hidden from street view. The driver had stopped at one of those homes, and the black iron gates swung slowly inward. The car had crawled along the stretch of pavement that bisected acres and acres of the parklike wooded property of her new home. When they rounded a bend, the sprawling estate had come into full view.

  She’d visited Derrick in Atlanta before, but they’d stayed at his condo in the middle of the city. This place was an enormous Georgian-style manor that bespoke the wealth Derrick’s father had accrued over the years. In the fountain out front, water poured from the open mouths of two stone fish.

  The driver stopped the car in the circular cobblestoned driveway. To her surprise, Derrick had lifted her up and carried her across the threshold, claiming tradition as the reason for doing so. For a moment she forgot how ruthless he could be and enjoyed being held by him. Too much, in fact, practically melting against the sturdiness of his chest. His unique male scent and cologne had surrounded her, making her dizzy with
unexpected longing.

  Inside, he had made the introductions to the team of staff members present at that hour: Saunders, the property manager, an older black man with a kind face; Svana, the tall, portly Icelandic housekeeper; and a weekend cook who was available any time of the day or night. The personnel not present included the family driver, head landscaper and the gardeners, maids, a chef on call during the week, and two personal assistants—one for Derrick and one for her.

  Then they’d made their way up to their suite of rooms, and he’d taken her to her bedroom. Her bedroom.

  Bemused, Eva had looked at him. “I don’t understand. Why do we have separate rooms? We’re married.” Was this how rich people lived?

  “My parents had separate rooms when they were both alive. I think it’s a good idea for us to do the same. Sometimes I work late, and I don’t want to disturb you when I come in. Plus, I like my own space.”

  She’d swallowed the bitter pill of disappointment and a few minutes later watched him walk through the connecting door to his own room.

  She had told Derrick she wanted time to get used to being married, yet this development surprised her. If they slept in different rooms, it appeared his idea of a normal marriage meant living separate lives and perhaps having the occasional conjugal visit.

  Coming back to the present, Eva yawned and stretched, then slipped from beneath the floral linens in the four-poster bed and walked over to the three windows that covered one wall. She drew aside the heavy drapes and squinted against the glare of the bright sun. Outside, the gardeners stayed busy pruning, cutting, and mowing.

  After washing up and changing into comfortable clothes, Eva exited her bedroom and walked through the sitting area of their suite of rooms, filled with antique furniture and expensive-looking Impressionist paintings on the walls. The rest of the house she walked through was tastefully decorated in a similar way, with expensive art and traditional furnishings.

  After a few tries, Eva found the kitchen. In a house this big, a GPS device would come in handy.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Hoffman,” Svana said in a heavily accented voice. “What would you like for breakfast?”