In a flash, Meredith leapt behind the couch. Because there was a sofa table situated there, but the table was transparent, it was unavailing to hide behind. "Derek! We're not properly dressed."

"It's just Mark," he told her, "and he's seen my underwear before."

"Not on me, he hasn't!"

Meredith heard Mark laugh, and she peeked over the back of the sofa at him. He didn't look any the worse for his night of drunken revelry. In fact, he looked really good—like he always did. He wore a white polo shirt with an open collar that showed a generous and sexy chest. The shirt was tucked neatly into faded, snug-fitting jeans.

Mark grinned, showing a dimple in his left cheek and strong white teeth. "Hi Mer."

"Mark." At this rate, Meredith expected to burn herself up with embarrassment. "If you'll just turn your back, I'll es­cape to the ..." She drew to a verbal halt, unwilling to admit that her clothes were scattered over Derek's bed­room floor. "I'll dash down the hall and dress."

"I dunno," Mark teased. "I'm awful curious now. You say you're wearing Derek's underwear?"

Derek, the rat, just grinned. "She looks real cute in them, too."

"S'that right?" Mark started toward the sofa.

Meredith's heart did a somersault at his feigned approach. "Mark Sloane, you turn your back right now!"

Mark stopped and turned to Derek. "She's screeching. I never heard Meredith screech before."

"Yeah." Derek nodded, watching Meredith thoughtfully. "But then, she's had a rough night."

"Derek!" The two of them together were enough to flus­ter any woman.

He winked at her. "Get your mind out of the gutter, honey. I was talking about Mary firing you."

"Oh."

Mark nearly strangled on his laughter this time.

"You think it's funny," Meredith challenged, still cowering behind the furniture, "that I'm without a job?"

Mark's expression froze comically. "You mean the old witch really did fire you? You're kidding!"

"She really did," Derek told him, then he walked to Meredith. "Come on out, Meredith. Mark won't peek."

"Scout's honour," Mark agreed, and he finally turned his back.

Meredith scooted out and felt Derek's hand on her backside as she did so. She glared at him, and he said, "Just help­ing."

"Yeah, right." She turned to march down the hall. "You both need a swift kick."

As she headed into Derek's bedroom and closed the door hard, Meredith also thought how similar the brothers were— especially in warped senses of humour. Before she'd fin­ished pulling on her wrinkled, damaged skirt, which thankfully still had a button at the waistband, she was smiling.

Mark waited until he knew Meredith was almost out of sight, then he peeked. He just couldn't help himself. It was enough of a shock that Derek was apparently interested in Meredith, even sexually involved with her. But it was doubly intriguing to think of Meredith bouncing around in boxers.

He'd only gotten a glimpse of her bare legs, her beautiful body buried beneath one of Derek's white shirts, when Derek shoved him "You told her you wouldn't look."

"Yeah, well, I was never a Scout." Mark eyed his brother. "What the hell's going on, Derek?"

"I told you all of it last night."

"You sure as certain didn't tell me about Meredith. I re­member she stopped by—I wasn't too drunk to recall that." He propped his hands on his hips. "But now I'm wondering if she ever left."

"None of your business, Mark." Derek strode toward the kitchen and placed a door key on top of the fridge. Mark followed him.

"She's a nice girl."

"Real nice," Derek agreed. Then, with the gravity so much a part of him, he added, "Meredith is unlike any woman I've ever known."

Mark pulled out a kitchen chair and sprawled into it. "You got anything to drink?"

"Didn't you have enough last night?"

Grinning, Mark said, "I had too much, if you want the truth."

Grunting in agreement to that, Derek asked, "Want me to put on coffee?"

"Yeah, and make it strong. I've still got something of a hangover, so maybe the caffeine will help." He rubbed his temples. "Remind me never to drink with you again."

"Ditto." Derek went through the cabinets while Mark considered the situation.

He studied Derek, and noticed that he looked more re­laxed now than he had in recent months. Even after get­ting rip-roaring drunk, he looked . . . more peaceful.

He also looked bigger. His brother was a prime speci­men, a fact that made Mark proud. But now he looked .. . enormous. "Is it my imagination or are you getting big-ger?"

Derek shrugged as he measured coffee into the strainer. "The last few months I've spent more time in the gym, tak­ing out my frustrations on the heavy bag and anyone who'd volunteer to spar."

"Sexual frustration?" It was a rhetorical question be­cause Mark had warned Derek all along that Addison wasn't the type of warm, open woman a man wanted to be tied to. Not that he was an expert on marriage, and not that he was in any hurry to leg shackle himself. At a tender thirty-four, Mark figured he had years before he had to worry about it. But he knew damn good and well that, if he ever did marry, it'd be to a woman who gave him one hundred and fifty percent—in bed and out.

"It doesn't matter now." Derek spoke in an offhand manner that didn't fool Mark at all.

His suspicions grew. "What did you mean about Meredith being different?"

His back still to Mark, Derek grumbled, "What is this? Twenty questions?"

"Just curious."

"Some things aren't any of your damn business."

"So you got something private going on with Meredith?" That goad got to Derek, and he turned to Mark with a fierce frown.

"Meredith is genuine. Up-front." His frown turned thoughtful, and he folded his arms. "You know, I almost want to say fearless, but that's not the right word."

"What about honourable?"

Derek paused, then nodded sharply. "Yeah, that suits Meredith." He grinned. "And she's protective."

"Of you?"

Derek dumped water into the coffeemaker, switched it on, and then pulled out his chair. "Yeah. It's the damned­est thing. Meredith doesn't mind giving me hell, but she takes exception any time someone else tries to."

"She's the mothering sort." Mark had noticed that about Meredith almost from the moment he'd met her.

Derek said, "She doesn't seem to realize that I don't need coddling, that I can take care of myself."

Mark lifted his brows. "Coddling is nice every now and then"

"Yeah."

"It's no wonder Meredith seems different to you," Mark said finally, "considering the type of women you knew growing up."

The coffeemaker sputtered to a halt and Derek stood to fill two mugs. "It's more than that. You're right that Meredith isn't anything like those women. But she's not like the women in her social circle either."

"You mean Mary's social circle?"

Derek handed him a steaming cup. "Whatever. I don't know any other woman who would have put up with cheese sandwiches for dinner while wearing my boxers."

Mark laughed so abruptly, he nearly spit his coffee across the table.

And then Meredith marched in.

She'd brushed out her long hair and put on her ruined skirt and shoes. She still wore Derek's white shirt, hanging loose over the skirt to mid-thigh. It was an odd, mis­matched outfit, yet it somehow looked adorable on her.

She folded her arms over her breasts and looked at both of them before settling her gaze on Derek. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to borrow your shirt. I need to have it dry-cleaned now anyway, and I need it to cover my ruined zipper. And I'll need a bag or something to carry my pantyhose and my sweater home. There's no way I can wear them."

"What about your bra? Are you wearing it?"

Mark sat back to enjoy himself. He'd never known his brother to deliberately embarrass a woman before. Just the opposite; Derek had a gallant streak toward women and kids that ran a mile wide. But Mark had to admit, flus­tering Meredith was downright fun, so he didn't blame Derek much.

Meredith's jaw dropped, then snapped shut. She set her mouth in a mulish line, but she didn't take the bait. With slow, precise enunciation, she said, "I'm going to call a cab."

Derek sat up straight. "Hell no. I'll drive you home."

"I don't need you to drive me home, thank you very much."

"I'm doing it anyway."

"Derek." She glanced at Mark with what looked like an apology for Derek's bad manners. Mark winked at her. Meredith sighed. "Derek, you have company."

He scoffed. "It's just Mark. He doesn't want you to take a cab either."

Luckily, to Mark's way of thinking, Meredith didn't ask him to verify that. Personally he didn't know what Derek had against a cab, but he didn't want to disagree with him and he didn't want to get pulled into their squabble.

"I'm ready to go and I'm not a child," Meredith stated. "I can make it home in a cab just fine."

"No."

Meredith looked distinctly stubborn about it. "Yes."

Derek looked more than stubborn. "No way, Meredith."

They made an amusing couple, to Mark's way of think­ing. Derek needed someone like Meredith. She was a woman who wouldn't be pushed around but who would put her­self in the line of fire to protect those people she cared about. Her feminine strength was a match to Derek's strong, take-charge personality. And Meredith —well, bless her heart, she didn't hesitate to speak her mind. Derek al­ways did appreciate an honest woman—and as to that, so did Mark.

Derek's phone rang, making it impossible for Meredith to continue to argue. Derek shoved himself out of his seat and snatched up the receiver from the wall. Since it was on the opposite side of the kitchen, he had his back to Meredith. He barked, "Hello?"

Meredith glared at his back, and for a moment there, Mark thought she might actually stick out her tongue. But she showed great restraint and instead dropped into the seat he'd vacated. She picked up Derek's coffee cup and took a sip. She immediately plunked it back down and shuddered. "Good God, who made the coffee? It's awful."

Mark toasted her. "We were both in need of the caffeine kick."

Meredith's expression softened as she pushed the cup out of reach. "Feeling the effects of last night's drinking binge?"

"When I first woke up this morning, I thought my eye­balls had fallen out. It's taken me all day to begin feeling human again."

Meredith smiled. "Hopefully last night taught you some­thing."

Mark scrutinized her, appreciating how she looked in Derek's shirt. "Yeah, it taught me that all the fun happens after I leave."

She blushed and frowned at him at the same time.

Derek's voice rose, drawing their attention. "For the last time, it's not my problem, Andrew. No, and that's final." He hesitated and then growled, "I told you, I'm fired, so there's nothing I can do. Call Mary and tell her what's going on."

Meredith looked at Mark, appalled, and Mark winced. "Trouble at the Foundation?"

"I was afraid of that." Meredith watched Derek with a worried frown. "Mary insisted on hiring another manager for take care of the new activities. I in­terviewed him last week, and I told Mary he wasn't the most even-tempered man I'd ever met." She glanced at Mark. "He was actually a rude, snooty jerk. But Mary only cared about his reference, not his person­ality. It sounds like he's ready to start work." Mark grinned. "Perfect timing on his part. He's arrived right in the middle of chaos."

Meredith didn't see the humour in the situation. "Mary needs Derek, but he's right that she lords his interest in the Foundation over him. I don't know what to do."

Mark propped his elbows on the table and regarded her "Do? You were fired too, Meredith , so it seems to me it's not your problem."

She shook her head. "I know how you feel about Mary, Mark. But you're all family. It's not good to have this level of discord."

"Mary thrives on discord."

"She's afraid of losing control."

Personally, Mark didn't think Mary Shepherd was afraid of anything, but since he knew Meredith was fond of her, he held his peace. "I have a suggestion."

"On how to patch things up?"

He snorted. "Hell no. I meant that I'm leaving in just a few minutes anyway. I have some things to do, and if you want, I'll give you a ride home."

Derek hung up the phone in time to hear Mark's com­ment. "I'm driving her home."

Meredith stood. "No you're not. You need to go to the Foundation."

Derek glowered down at her. "Like hell I will. I don't work for Mary anymore, so it's not my problem. Let her deal with it."

"This has nothing to do with what's happened between you and Mary." She touched his chest and gave him a solemn look. "You'll go for all the employees who are loyal to you, all the friends you've made there. You owe it to them to explain things, Derek, to help them under­stand."

Derek's frown darkened even more. It was an interesting thing to watch, because Meredith didn't back down one bit. If anything, she stepped closer to Derek. She lifted her hand from his chest to his jaw. Mark watched in awe.

"Think about it, Derek. Do you want any of them to act so stupidly that they get fired by Mary, too? You told me Andrew was perfect for the job as accountant, and that he's supporting aging parents as well as his own wife and kids. And you said Enrico was thrilled to be hired as the show, that he saw this as his chance to settle down."

Derek made a rude sound. "Yeah, well, I'd like to re-evaluate that assessment. Enrico is a hound dog who'll prob­ably always run around."

Meredith seemed to be considering that comment, though Mark doubted she understood Derek's sentiments. Finally she shook her head and went on with dogged determina­tion. "Well, then, what about the others ? They're making a great effort for The Foundation. And the volunteers, and the donors ?"

Derek rolled his eyes and looked at Mark. "Did you know Meredith was such a pushy broad?"

Meredith let loose with an indignant gasp.

"Yeah," Mark said, grinning at her, "I'd gotten that im­pression. At least over things she considers important." And Mark had no doubts that Meredith considered Derek very important. She didn't want him to have any regrets.

Meredith turned away in high dudgeon, ready for a grand exodus, and Derek pulled her back around and into his arms. Mark watched with interest as Derek treated her to a very passionate kiss that had her groaning softly, then clutching at him.

Deciding he was too single to witness such outrageous displays of affection, Mark gave them pri­vacy by walking out of the kitchen. He was still a little staggered by the idea of Derek and Meredith as a couple. And he couldn't help but worry about Meredith. As Derek said, Meredith was unique and needed special care. He hoped Derek remembered that.

But the idea was growing on him. They complemented each other, and it was plain that Derek found Meredith very sexy. Mark had never seen his brother look at Addison the way he looked at Meredith.

Two minutes later Meredith and Derek joined him. Derek's smile was the epitome of male contentment, and Meredith was warmly flushed.

"She's going to ride home with you," Derek announced.

"And," Meredith muttered, "Derek is going to go to the Foundation and smooth things over."

"A compromise?" Mark asked, and damn if he didn't feel almost as satisfied as his brother. Meredith was not only a gentle, intelligent woman, she was also a reasonable, calm­ing influence—just what his brother needed right now after all the hell he'd been through.

Except that Derek claimed he was done with the idea of matrimony. And Meredith, with her big heart and bigger in­nocence, was definitely a marrying-type woman.

Mark frowned in concern. He didn't know how it'd all work out, but he trusted Derek to do what was right. And in the meantime, he'd just enjoy the show.