Morning came along with Rachel's senses. For the first time in the past ten hours, she finally asked herself what had come over her to make her go home with a stranger and get intimate with him.

And the worst part of it all was that they hadn't used protection!

"Shit," she cursed and threw back the covers.

As she attempted to get out of the bed, a strong arm encircled her midriff, drawing her back into a cocoon of warmth.

"Where are you rushing off to?" Derek murmured sleepily.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. What's up?"

"I have to get back home," she said seriously without looking at him.

She had become shy for some reason. The wanton Rachel has finally given way to sensible Rachel, and right now, all she wanted to do was to get the hell out of this place.

"It's just 6 a.m. Rachel, what's the hurry?" he asked as sleep began to clear from his eyes.

Something about the set of her shoulders and how she avoided looking at him told him something was off with her. He tried to quickly rewind his memory to see if there was something he must have done or said last night that might have offended her, but he drew a blank.

"Are you ok?" he asked her softly.

"Yeah, sure," she said lightheartedly.

She didn't want him to think that something was wrong when the only problem here was that she was having a sober reflection and didn't quite concern him.

Rachel firmly disengaged his arm from her middle and she got off the bed. Then picked up her clothing and went into the bathroom to get dressed.

Derek was confused by Rachel's change in demeanor and he didn't know whether to ask her about it when she returned from the bathroom or let it slide.

To the best of his knowledge, everything that had happened between them had been consensual and she had been the one who initiated the first kiss. Why was she now acting strangely?

When Rachel returned to the room, she was fully dressed and she looked like her old self again with that cheerful smile and perfectly tousled auburn hair that framed her beautiful face.

"Thank you for last night, Derek," she said sincerely. "I had such a great time. So... this is the part where I say goodbye and skedaddle."

He sighed. "You're welcome, Rachel. Although I kinda feel like you are running away from me and I don't know why."

"Don't be ridiculous. Why would I run away from you?" She laughed, trying to lighten the mood in the room. She could tell that Derek wasn't buying her carefree act.

"Will I see you again?" he asked softly.

Rachel knew that it was time for her to be honest with herself - having a one-night stand with a handsome billionaire was the stuff of epic romance stories, but this was real life here. Was she ready for the attention and pressure that came with dating a famous wealthy man?

Was she ready to have her life scrutinized by strangers and analyzed by gossip magazines? She loved her simple life as it was and she didn't think she was ready to rock the boat by getting seriously involved with Derek. Besides, dating a billionaire may not be as fun as having a one-off tryst with him.

"I'm not sure that's such a great idea, Derek," she said finally after ruminating for a few minutes. "Let's just carry on with our lives, separately."

Derek couldn't hide his shock. No woman had ever turned him down before. Her rejection stung his ego, making his countenance rigid as a rock. "Fine," he said flatly, then reached for the drawer of his nightstand where he pulled out wads of hundred-dollar bills. "Here, this is for you." Rachel was stunned. Why was he offering her money? Was he trying to pay her for sleeping with him or what?

"What's that for?" she asked with a grimace.

He shrugged. "For a taxi or whatever."

"How much do you think a taxi ride costs? What exactly are you offering me money for?"

"Look, all you had to say was, 'No, thank you.' There's no need to insinuate nonsense. Do you want the money or not?"

"No, I don't want your money!"

"Fine," he said and flung the cash back into the drawer. "You know your way out, don't you?"

Rachel couldn't believe his attitude. Why was he being so rude? Wasn't this the same Derek that had been so sweet to her all night and even this morning? Was this how he handled rejection, by being disrespectful? She ignored his question and walked out of the room as calmly as she could manage. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her much as his words and bad manners had hurt her.

He didn't deserve her energy and she wasn't going to waste it on him. He was a sore loser and she was better off without him.

"Don't be sad, Rachel," she whispered to herself as she got into the elevator. "You've just dodged a bullet."

*******

As soon as Rachel left, Derek felt like an asshole. Why had he behaved that way like a jilted teenager?

Ok, so it was shocking to him that she had turned down his offer to meet again, but so what?

Men got turned down every day, so why did he think he was too good to be rejected? Because he had more money than most men?

Disgusted with himself, he threw back the covers and got out of bed then marched angrily to the bathroom. Inside, he got a faint whiff of Rachel's perfume and his gut tightened involuntarily.

Perhaps it was just as well that things had ended sourly between them this morning because that woman was trouble, plain and simple. He didn't quite believe in love, but Rachel looked like the kind of woman that might make him start thinking about that strong emotion.

He had seen what love does to even the strongest and most level-headed men, how it turned them to mush and made them do stupid things. His father was an example of a victim of love - the older Fraser had made the mistake of falling in love with a selfish woman.

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A woman who was more interested in hosting lavish parties and spending money wastefully than actually being a wife or a mother to her only child - him!

The memories of how his father had suffered scandal after scandal after Derek's mother had gotten caught repeatedly cheating on her husband, still haunted him until today.

When he'd finally summoned the courage to ask his father why he was still married to his unfaithful wife, Jeremy Fraser had said, "I love her, son. I love your mother and I know she's not a perfect human being.

"I have always known that even before I married her. I love her and I will keep forgiving her until she comes to her senses and realizes how good she has it with me."

"Dad, that doesn't make sense," he'd protested. "She has made you a laughingstock by how she disrespects you publicly and you still welcome her back home. Why do you keep letting her do that to you?"

"You don't understand, Derek, but you will when you fall in love. You'll see."

"If falling in love means taking leave of my senses, then I don't want any part of it," he'd replied passionately.

That conversation had taken place in his father's home office seven years ago. About a week after that, his mother died in a plane crash off the coast of Bermuda on her way back from a party hosted by one of her lovers, a Russian billionaire named Ivan Yulensky.

They had been flying in his private jet when they'd hit strong turbulent winds that messed up the pilot's visibility, and everything had literally gone downhill after that.

Although Derek had been saddened by the news of his mother's death, he had felt a sort of relief, knowing that his father was finally free from his loveless marriage.

He thought his father could finally have the chance of replaceing true love, but that had turned out to be wishful thinking on Derek's part.

His father had taken ill after his mother's demise and no treatment or medical intervention had helped. Derek had been crushed when his father's doctor told him in a mournful tone that Jeremy Fraser had lost the will to live. His father died of a broken heart five months after his mother's death and, Derek had sworn to himself never to fall in love. He would not allow love to rob him of his life as it had done to his father.

He was glad that he'd come to his senses quickly before things got out of hand with Rachel.

"I've just dodged a bullet," he whispered to himself.

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