Meredith was so furious with herself, she felt like spitting. The near-torrential rainfall didn't slow her down as she splashed her way up the sidewalk to Derek's building, her every step punctuated by a passionate rage. Eight days. Eight hellish days she'd been away, probably when Derek had needed her most. She'd expected to come home to a list of things yet to be done for the wedding, because Mary did love to give her lists.
Instead, she'd come home to the tail end of an uproar.
Damn her car for breaking down, damn Mary for being a hard-headed matriarch, and damn everyone for ever doubting him.
Poor Derek. Poor honourable, loyal Derek.
He needed her.
Spurred on by her convictions, Meredith hurried on. She slipped as she jerked the foyer door open and bounded inside onto slick marble tile. She'd have landed on her well-padded behind if it weren't for Maxwell, the doorman, catching her arm and wrestling her upright.
"Here now!" Maxwell said in some surprise, maintaining his hold on her arm as Meredith started to dart past.
It took him a moment to recognize her with her hair hanging in long, sodden ropes in her face and her clothes saturated through and through, making them baggier than usual. When he did recognize her, his old eyes widened.
"Ms. Grey! What in the world are you doing out in this storm?"
Meredith forced herself to slow down. "Sorry, Maxwell. Is Derek in?"
"Yes, ma'am. He's with his brother."
Thank God. Meredith would rather have had her visit with Derek in private, without Mark as an audience, but at least Derek was home. Besides, she should have known Mark would be close at hand. He very much respected his "brother", and always offered unconditional support. Mark was raised by the Shepherd family when his parents died when he was 5 years old. Derek, older, always regarded as his little brother.
Meredith was relieved that Derek hadn't been all alone during the ordeal.
"My stupid car broke down a few blocks from here, she told Maxwell. "I'll call triple A from Derek's."
"Should I announce you?"
Derek had a standing rule that his family was always welcome. Meredith was in no way a blood relative, but as his mother's personal secretary, Derek granted her the same importance. She'd known Derek for three years. She'd loved him just about that long.
Not that she would ever tell anyone, especially not Derek.
"No, I'll go on up. But thanks."
The doorman shook his head as she turned away, probably thinking she had less sense than a turkey to go running through the stormy weather. But she simply hadn't possessed the patience to wait in her car for a cab. A little rain wouldn't melt her, and since hearing what Mary had done yesterday, how she'd treated Derek because of the break up, Meredith had been filled with a driving urgency to reach him, to let him know that at least one person still. . . what? Still believed in him, still trusted in his innate honour?
The elevator moved so slowly, Meredith couldn't stop tapping her foot, which jiggled drips of rainwater from her body onto the elevator floor. She now stood in a puddle.
The second the doors opened, she leaped out, then had to leap back in when she realized it was the wrong floor. The woman getting on the elevator gave her a funny look but said nothing, even when she had to step around the soggy carpeting.
This time she checked the floor before getting off. Every step she took caused her feet to squish inside her pumps and left damp tracks across the carpeting. When she reached Derek's door, she drew a deep breath to fortify herself, pushed her long, wet hair behind her ears, and rapped sharply.
Nothing.
She knocked again, and even pushed the doorbell a few times, but still there was no answer. Refusing to give up, Meredith tried the door and found it unlocked. She crept inside, calling out, "Derek?" but no one answered. And then she heard voices coming from the balcony.
Meredith hurried through the apartment, noticing empty beer bottles everywhere, as well as pizza boxes and chip bags thrown about. A mostly empty, dried-up container of sour-cream-and-chive dip was half tucked into the sofa cushions.
Meredith wondered if Derek had thrown a party, if he had actually celebrated the break up. It seemed unlikely. For many years now everyone had expected him and Addison to marry and then be blissfully happy in their picture-perfect lives. The break up had naturally thrown everyone for a loop, Meredith especially.
She finally located him.
Derek sat on the covered balcony with Mark, and together they made such an impressive sight they stole Meredith's breath. Oh boy, Derek was a man to make anyone proud.
The two brothers were talking, oblivious to Meredith's presence, and she studied them. Their large, bare feet were propped on the edge of the railing, getting rained on. Both of them lounged back in chairs, Mark with his tilted on its back legs.
Derek had a long-necked bottle of beer dangling between his fingers, his other hand resting limply on his hard abdomen. He wore faded jeans, a gray sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off, and nothing else. His silky, dark hair was rumpled, his face shadowed with beard stubble. His entire body bespoke weariness.
He was the sexiest, most appealing man she'd ever known.
Meredith sighed.
"To hell with all of 'em," Mark said. His words were slurred and thick and angry.
Meredith tucked in her chin. Uh-oh. Mark sounded. . . drunk. Really drunk.
Like Derek, he seldom imbibed, so this must be a ... commiseration-drinking binge? She didn't really know men well enough to know what their habits might be, but it seemed feasible.
She looked behind her, and this time counted the empty beer bottles littering the apartment. Oh Lord! They must have been at it since last night. Had Derek contacted Mark directly after leaving Mary's? Had they been drinking ever since?
Wide-eyed, Meredith turned back to the brothers.
Derek's voice, too, sounded slurred when he said, "It took them all by surprise, that's all."
"Yeah, so they jump to the conclusion that you're a heartbreaker. The asses."
"Heartbreaker?" Derek made a sound that wasn't quite a laugh, wasn't quite a curse. "Oh, they had better descriptions than that, believe me. You'd think I jilted her at the altar the way they went on."
Meredith swallowed her choking pain and renewed annoyance. Mary had told her all about the awful meeting, with Derek summoned to her house to face Addison, along with her mother and father and Mary herself. He'd stood alone against them, bearing their insults and their blame without defending himself—the same way he'd faced the world most of his life.
They'd jointly called him to account, and when Derek had refused to explain why he'd ended the engagement, Mary had threatened to disown him.
No. Meredith curled her arms around the ache in her stomach, the pain in her heart. She would never let that happen. She'd make Mary relent. As her personal secretary, she carried some clout.
At least she hoped she did.
"Situations like this," Mark explained, waving his beer for emphasis, "are why I like not to have the same blood as Mary."
Derek slanted his younger brother a look. "You know she has to be careful, Mark. In her heart, Mary knows you're family, but she's stubborn and cautious." Derek shrugged. "Mary has more pride than most."
"Ha! She's a—"
"Careful." Derek narrowed his eyes. "I'm madder than hell at her right now, too, but she's still my mother, your mother."
"Not that she'll admit it."
Derek ignored that to add, "Just as you're my brother."
"Adopted brother." Mark lifted the beer and guzzled down the remainder, then belched.
"Genetic, adopted, who gives a rat's ass? You're my brother, and regardless of any damn blood test, we both know it."
Meredith's heart expanded in her chest, her throat clogged with emotion. Yes, Mark was Derek's brother, and Mary's son.
"We need more beer," Derek announced, and dropped his empty bottle with a clank onto the balcony's stone floor.
More beer!
"You'll have to get it," Mark said without moving. "I can barely feel my legs."
"Wimp." Derek started to rise with a lusty groan.
"No." Meredith stepped forward, drawing the attention of both men. They slued around in their chairs and stared at her in muddled surprise.
"Hey," Derek said. Then, with some confusion: "Where'd you come from?"
"The front door wasn't locked."
"It wasn't?"
Disapproving, Meredith said, "I think you've both had quite enough to drink."
The two men shared a look, and Mark grinned. "Ah, Meri, did someone try to drown you, sweetheart?"
"Ha, ha." She made a face at Mark. He was forever teasing, and usually she liked it. "No, I got caught in the rain." Self-conscious, she pushed her hair behind her ears again. Her sweater stuck to her breasts and her back and her long skirt clung to her thighs, her belly. "My stupid car broke down," she explained, while trying to make herself less noticeable.
Derek straightened, then came to his feet with stiff-legged purpose. "Why the hell didn't you call me? I'd have picked you up."
He swayed, and Meredith lifted a brow. "In your condition? I do believe that's not only dangerous but illegal."
He cupped her chin and leaned closer. "I'd have called a cab for you."
Just that simple touch on her chin and Meredith 's heart was ready to pop. With a shuddering breath, she lifted herself away from him and busied herself by picking up empty bottles.
All around them, the storm raged, spraying into the balcony every so often, lighting the early evening sky with a brilliant display of electrical energy. The thunder rolled almost continually, rattling the windows and vibrating the floor, which explained why they hadn't heard her knock.
"It doesn't matter," Meredith remarked when both men continued to watch her, putting her on edge. "I'm here now."
She started back into the apartment, aware of them tottering along behind her. "Besides, I was in a hurry."
Mark propped himself up against a wall "Yeah?" he asked. "How come?"
Distracted, Meredith asked, "How come what?"
"How come you were in such an all-fire hurry?"
The reason for her visit flooded back to Meredith and she gasped, almost dropping the bottles. Derek relieved her of several and plopped them onto the dinette table. "Meredith ? You okay?"
"Ohmigod," she said, and turned to Derek, grasping his sweatshirt with both hands, holding on to him while she stared up into his handsome face. "I almost forgot when I saw you both sitting out there, looking so cute in your drunken revelry."
Mark chuckled, muttering, "Cute," under his breath, but Derek shook his head. "Quit pulling on my clothes and tell me what you forgot."
"Almost forgot." Then Meredith softened with emotion. "Oh, Derek. I am so, so sorry."
He and Mark shared another look, this one of concern and male speculation. "For what, exactly?"
"For what? For what's happened, that's what!" Her hands, curled in his shirt, thumped against his chest in emphasis. "For how Mary jumped to the wrong conclusions and how everyone is acting and—"
Derek pressed two big, warm fingers against her lips, making her toes curl inside her waterlogged shoes and her belly curl in sensual delight. "What conclusion did Mary jump to? And how in hell do you think everyone is treating me?"
His fingers were still over her mouth and Meredith swallowed hard, then reached for his thick wrist and gently drew his hand down. Oh Lord, the man made her shake with . . . with all kinds of things.
"Mary wrongly assumed you were to blame for the break up. And from what she told me, Miss Montgomery's family was no better." Meredith's temper ignited anew at her own reminder of how he'd been treated. "You'd think none of them knew you at all!"
Mark pushed away from the wall. His walk was only slightly steadier than the moment before. "You're saying you don't blame him?"
Meredith whirled on him. "Mark Sloane ! You should certainly know better!"
"Hey—" He held up both hands, on the verge of laughter. "I didn't say I blamed him."
"Well, I would hope not."
Derek crossed his arms and propped his hip against the dinette table. He still wavered a little, rocking back and forth. "So who do you blame?"
"Why ... no one." Meredith flapped a hand. "Oh, I heard all about Addison weeping and being devastated and all that. Mary said you've humiliated her in front of everybody by crying off after all the arrangements had been made, and that Addison's emotionally crushed and may never recover. And I feel horrible for her, I really do."
Mark laughed again.
"But I know you both must have had your own reasons. At the very least, I know you wouldn't have crushed her unless you had no other choice."
Meredith squealed when Mark slipped his thick arms around her from behind and lifted her off her feet in a crushing hug. Mark's bear hug so surprised her, Meredith's arms and legs sort of stuck straight out, like a strangled starfish trying to gain balance.
Rainwater squished out of her clothing, then trickled down her body and onto Mark. He put a smacking kiss on the side of her neck, immobilizing Meredith with the impulsiveness of it. She could count on one hand the number of times a gorgeous man had kissed her neck.
Heck, she could count with one finger because this time was a first.
Derek continued to study her, scrutinizing her every reaction, which made Mark's behaviour inconsequential. She began to burn, and knew she had to gain control of the situation.
She cast a wary glance at Mark, who, although he released her, continued to grin like a rogue. She looked back at Derek, and way up, to see his expression. His muscled arms were crossed over his chest, his intense blue eyes narrowed, watchful. He looked bemused and something else, perhaps . . . tender.
"I'd have been here sooner," Meredith told him in a croak, trying to collect herself. "But I was out of town."
"I remember," Derek murmured, still holding her fixed in his gaze. "Mary had you doing some headhunting, didn't she?"
"Yes, for a new chef for the foundation and the clinic she'd heard about. He agreed to her terms and she, ah, hired him. He starts right away."
"Great."
Derek sounded more disgusted than enthused. It had been Derek's job for years now to do all the hiring.
Meredith didn't want him sidetracked with worries about that now. "But that's not important."
"No? What IS important?"
Meredith chewed her lip, trying to decipher Derek's mood. He had the most stony, unreadable expression when he chose, and he'd just gone into full conceal mode. He appeared relaxed, unconcerned, no more than curious.
But oh, those blue eyes of his, shadowed by his long thick lashes, continued to burn. And she felt the heat right down to the core of her being. She glanced at Mark, but he just winked, his own brown eyes alight with mischief.
"It's important," Meredith said, "that you know everyone doesn't blame you."
"But everyone does."
"Not me."
Mark again laced his arms around her and propped his chin on her crown. "Why is that, sugar?"
Oh, please, Meredith thought in a bit of a panic; Mark didn't really think she could talk with him lined up behind her and Derek in front of her? She felt surrounded by testosterone, hemmed in by machismo. Impossible.
It was distracting enough that Mark had a body like a steel statue and was sexy to boot. It was doubly bad that he touched her in ways she'd never been touched before. It more than rattled her.
But while Mark could unsettle her with his dynamic presence, he'd never excited her emotions the way Derek did, never made her alternately hot and cold and so physically aware.
Yet, there Derek stood a mere foot in front of her, bare feet braced apart, dark hair damp from the humidity, eyes as hot as a blue flame. Meredith 's heart pattered, and she wondered that Mark didn't feel it.
Then Derek slanted his brother an amused look. "You're going to make her faint, Mark."
"That right?" Mark peeked over her shoulder to see Meredith's face. She could feel his breath on her cheek. "You feelin' faint, honey?"
"I, uh .. ."
"Knock it off, Mark." Derek watched her as if he knew what she felt and even while he smiled at her predicament, he wanted to protect her.
Meredith drew a shuddering breath. "I'm, uh, not used to guys touching me."
Derek's eyes glittered. "Huh. Now there's a confession."
Before Meredith could recover from the suggestion in Derek's tone, Mark saved her by pretending to be shocked. He said, very theatrically, "No! I won't believe it, Meri."
Meredith didn't mind Mark poking fun. Almost every other twenty-five-year-old woman she knew had left virginity far behind.
Without looking at Derek, she said, "Afraid so." Then, to try to relieve the tension, she added, "At least, not big, gorgeous, sexy guys like yourself."
"You hittin' on me?" Mark asked with a teasing grin. He could be such a charming scamp.
"No," Meredith assured him, "because I'd have no idea what to do with you."
He laughed and shook his head, then touched her cheek before moving away. "She's all yours, Derek."
Derek smiled. Seeing that smile, Meredith gulped.
Apparently unaware of Meredith's embarrassment, or at the least not caring, Mark added, "I suggest you get her out of those wet clothes before you continue your interrogation." He glanced back at Meredith over his shoulder and bobbed his eyebrows. "I'd offer to help, you know, but I gotta get going. Hell, I'm so drunk, I hope I make it to my own bed."
Meredith immediately turned and snagged the back waistband of ¨Mark's jeans. She held on. "You can't drive in your condition!"
Mark was so unsteady on his feet he almost fell into Meredith when she abruptly halted his forward momentum, causing him to stumble back two steps. He caught himself at the last second and laughed. "All I'm gonna do, Meri, is pick up my shoes, shuffle to the elevator, and then ask Maxwell to call me a cab, assuming I make it to the lobby in an upright position. Derek here made me drink more than I'm used to."
"Made you?" asked Derek with one glossy black brow raised. "I seem to remember you're the one who showed up with the first case of beer."
First case of beer? Meredith still held on to Ben. "I'll take you to Maxwell."
Mark looked down at her hands, latched tight to his waistband. "Turn me loose, woman. I can manage."
She gave Derek a questioning look.
"He'll be fine," Derek promised. "I'll call down and tell Maxwell to watch for him."
"Well, all right." Meredith loosened her hold and Mark floundered forward. He fetched up against the couch, righted himself, then located his shoes. He didn't bother to put them on.
"You two kids behave now, okay?"
Derek, who was only slightly steadier than Mark, went to his brother to help him out, then used the intercom to call down to Maxwell.
While they were both occupied Meredith picked up an empty beer case and began stowing bottles inside. She was only half done when Derek returned.
He still had that awesome fire burning in his eyes and it made her very nervous. And very, very aware of him as a man "You heard what Mark said," Derek told her while scrutinizing her every movement.
"Uh, no." Meredith licked her dry lips. "What did he say?"
Derek started forward, faltering a little but with definite purpose. And damn if he didn't have a small smile, tilting his head. "You're all..." His gaze dipped over her body outlined in the clinging clothes—top to bottom and back again, making her heart leap with embarrassment. His eyes met hers. ". . .wet."
Meredith 's mouth opened, but not a single word emerged.
Derek kept advancing, closer and closer, despite the way she instinctively backed up. Until he stood directly in front of her, until the power of him, the heat and the deep male scent of him touched her all over.
Her breath caught, her pulse tripped and tumbled.
"Meri," he murmured, and he touched her cheek, looking at her in a way he'd never looked at her before, in a way no man had ever looked at her. His smile deepened, his eyes brightened. "You're going to have to lose the wet clothes."
Meredith closed her eyes and wished like hell he wasn't drunk. But wishing didn't work. He was drunk—the fact that he'd said such an outrageous thing to her proved it— and that meant she couldn't take advantage of him, no matter what he said, no matter how badly she wanted to.
Well, damn.
