About Last Night... (13 page)

knew to a man she barely knew? She gestured to her outfit. "It's the close quarters, no privacy—you know."

Manny studied her face, then gave her hand a comforting pat. "Janine, emotions run high during a crisis, and people can

behave in ways that are out of character."

She hugged herself. "You think?"

He nodded. "You have a lot on your mind, with the wedding and all."

Janine sighed. "I guess we'll have to call the whole thing off."

He tipped his head to the side. "You mean postpone it, don't you?"

She straightened her shoulders. "Yes. Of course. Postpone the wedding, not call it off. Of course that's what I meant." A

Freudian slip?

"Is there anything I can do to make this situation more bearable?"

"I need clothes and toiletries … and a cot would be nice."

He opened the desk drawer and removed a sheet of stationery and a pen. "We're completely out of cots, but write down

whatever else you need and I'll see what I can confiscate from the gift shops."

"Thank you," she whispered, then jotted down a dozen or so items.

He gave her a brief wink before he left, and when the door closed, she felt so alone. Alone like a stone. And accident-prone.

She glanced toward the bathroom door. What was she going to say to Derek about the kiss? How was she going to explain

that she was so overcome with lust that she was willing to indulge in a few hours of unfettered sex, despite her being about to

exchange vows with a friend of his? What must he think of her? Probably no worse than she thought of herself, she decided, and

walked to the bathroom door. Perhaps the words would come if she didn't have to talk to him face-to-face.

Janine rapped lightly on the door. "Derek? Derek, I'm so sorry for what just happened. The kiss was my fault, and I can't give

you a good excuse, because I have no excuse." She sighed and leaned her cheek against the door. "Please know that I do love

Steve, despite the abominable way I've behaved. If you feel compelled to tell him what happened, I'll understand and I'll accept

full responsibility." She closed her eyes. "Thank goodness we stopped when we did."

When the silence on the other side of the door stretched on, she rapped again. "Derek?" No answer. "Derek?" she asked

louder. Making a fist, she knocked harder. "Derek, answer me to let me know you're okay." Fingers of panic curled low in her

stomach. What if he had grown more ill? What if he'd passed out and hit his head when he fell?

She turned the doorknob, relieved that it gave easily. After cracking the door open, she called his name again, but he didn't

respond. Her heart pounded as she inched the door wider, but she didn't see his reflection in the mirror. Janine opened the door

and stepped into the bathroom. The shower curtain was pushed back, just as she'd left it—he wasn't there. In fact, the huge mass

of man was nowhere to be found.

10

« ^ »

T
hank goodness the tiny balcony was cast in the shade of the building at this early hour, because he needed to cool off. Derek

leaned on the white wrought-iron railing and fought to collect himself, appreciating the view of walking paths, fountain and

golf courses, and reproaching himself. He'd never acted so foolishly in his life. Women had never been high on his list of

priorities—school, football, work, family and friendship had always taken precedence. Always.

At the age of fourteen, he'd lost his first girlfriend to his younger, but more debonair brother, Jack, and decided shortly

thereafter that women weren't worth arguing over. He'd left the brightest flowers for both Jack and Steve, preferring to date

quiet, uncomplicated girls who didn't consume him or his energy.

He still preferred the quiet ones. Which was why his infuriating attraction to Pinky—dammit—
Janine
so perplexed him. Not

only was the woman the mistress of mischief, but she just happened to be engaged to a man who thought enough of Derek to ask

him to be his best man.

Well, granted, he was second choice behind Jack, but still, the least he owed Steve was to keep his hands off his bride. No

matter how adorably inept she was, the woman already had a protector—a rich doctor—so she certainly didn't need him, a

struggling entrepreneur.

It was his near-celibate life-style of late, he decided. He'd been so caught up in trying to locate Jack, and with the goings-on

at the ad agency, he hadn't indulged in much of a social life lately. Lenore, the woman he'd been seeing occasionally had moved

on to greener pastures, and because he typically didn't believe in casual sex—too many crazies and too many diseases—he

hadn't slept with a woman in months.

And the bizarre circumstances undoubtedly contributed to his behavior. The intimacy of the close quarters, and the highly

sexual accidental encounters with Janine were enough to test any man's willpower. Plus, he had to admit, Janine was a looker

with that mop of blond hair and her too-blue eyes. He grunted when the image of her body reflected in that mirror came to

mind. Worse still, the silky texture of her skin was still imprinted on his hands. And that kiss…

The woman was a paradox. One minute she struck him as an innocent, the next, a tease. One minute he was running to help

her, the next, he was running to escape from her. He massaged his temples and filled his lungs with morning-sweet air.

Gradually, his head cleared and he was able to look at the situation logically. Even if he took Steve and the whole marriage

variable out of the equation, Janine Murphy couldn't be more wrong for him or his way of life. She was messy, emotional and

erratic. Fisting his hand, he pounded once on the railing with resolve, gratified by the slight echo of the iron vibrating and the

dull pain that lingered in his hand. There was nothing like a little space and fresh air for perspective.

The sound of her raised voice inside the room caught his attention, and he jogged back to the sliding glass door.

Apprehensive, he opened the door and pushed aside the curtain, then stepped into the room.

Janine whirled mid-yell, her eyes huge. "Oh, there you are. I was worried." Then she gestured vaguely, and added, "I mean, I

was afraid you might be feeling bad. Sick, I mean. Feeling sick."

He steeled himself against the quickening in his loins at the sight of her all bundled up in his clothes. He'd have to toss them

on the Goodwill pile when he returned to Kentucky. Jerking a thumb behind him, he said, "I stepped out onto the balcony."

She looked past him. "There's a balcony behind all those curtains?"

"Not much of one," he admitted, "but I needed some air." He pressed his lips together, trying to slough off the remnants of

their kiss. "I'm sorry—

"

"I'm sorry—

" she said at the same time.

"

— I had no business—

"

"

— I don't know what came over me—

"

"

— I mean, you and Steve—

"

"

— I'm getting married, after all—

"

"

— and I'm your best man—

"

"

— and you're my best man."

They stopped and she smiled. Begrudgingly, he returned a diluted version. He didn't know what her game was, or if she even

had one, but he was
not
having fun. "We're both under a lot of stress right now," he said. "Let's try to get through this quarantine

without doing something we'll regret, okay?"

She nodded. "My sentiments exactly."

Silence stretched like an elastic band between them, and she wrung her hands. "Are you hungry?" she asked, gesturing

toward the desk. "Manny just delivered breakfast."

"Manny?"

"The general manager."

His stomach rumbled in response. "I could eat." Glad the initial awkwardness had passed, he crossed to the desk and lifted a

lid from one of the trays, but scrutinized the assortment of fruit, yogurt and miniature bagels with distaste. "Not much here that'll

stick to your ribs."

She lifted the other lid to reveal eggs, sausage, bacon and pancakes. "This one's yours."

Finally, something to smile about. "Coffee, too? Excellent."

He pulled the straight-back chair over for Janine, then scooted the desk close enough to the bed for him to sit. Faced with the

task of having to make conversation over their meal, he used the remote to turn up the television news station that appeared to

be giving the quarantine good coverage, replaying the clip of the general manager and doctor every few minutes, and

speculating on how long the guests would be confined.

But no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the television, he couldn't shake the almost tangible energy springing from

the woman who sat across from him, eating a banana of all things. Man, was he hot for her. As soon as he finished eating, he

was going to take a long, cold shower. "Do you always eat like a bird?" he asked, although the words came out a little more

tersely than he'd planned.

She chewed slowly, then swallowed and licked those fabulous lips of hers. "I'm a vegetarian." Pointing a finger at his plate,

she added, "You, on the other hand, are courting heart disease with all those fat grams."

"I'm a big guy," he said, frowning. "I have big arteries."

Like she hadn't noticed he was big when they were grinding against each other, Janine thought, practically choking on her last

bite of banana. Personally, she liked the way he ate, not wolfishly, but with a gusto that said he was a man who appreciated

food, and lots of it. It suited him, the bigness, the heartiness, and hinted of other things he probably did with barely restrained

energy. She averted her eyes from his hands and cleared her throat. "I remember Steve mentioning a friend of his who was a

college football star. Was that you?"

Derek scoffed good-naturedly. "I played for UK, but Steve was probably referring to Jack. He was the star receiver. I was

on special teams, not nearly as flashy a position."

She knew enough about football to know Derek spoke the truth about unsung positions on the field. "If you don't mind me

asking, where
is
your brother, Jack?"

He swallowed, then drank deeply of the black coffee in his cup. "I don't have any idea," he said finally, in a tone that said he

was accustomed to his brother's absence.

"Did he just … disappear?"

A nod, then, "Pretty much. He tends to drop out of sight when a crisis occurs at the office."

She hadn't even asked Derek what he did for a living. "The office?"

"We own an advertising agency in Lexington, Jack and I."

Janine tried to hide her surprise, but must have failed miserably because he laughed. "Actually, my father started the

company, but I went to work there after I graduated. Then when Dad up and died on me a few years ago, I persuaded Jack to

help me run things."

Her heart squeezed because she detected true affection in his voice when he mentioned his father. "I'm so sorry for your loss,

Derek. Is your mother still living?"

A broad smile lit his face, transforming his features to roundness and light. "Absolutely. She still lives in the home where I

was raised. I built a duplex for myself and Jack a few miles away so we could keep an eye on her."

"And so you could keep an eye on Jack?"

After a brief hesitation, he nodded, then made a clicking noise with his cheek. "But he still manages to slip away."

She sensed his frustration with his brother, who sounded like a rake. Derek's few words gave her insight into his life, and

she pictured two boys growing up, the older, more serious sibling burdened with the responsibility of looking out for the

younger, more unpredictable one. It sounded as if the mischievous Jack had led a charmed life at his brother's expense. "How

long since you've heard from him?"

Derek scooped in another forkful of eggs, then squinted at the ceiling. "Two months? Yeah, it was right around tax time."

"And he's done this before?"

He nodded. "Lots of times. But he always comes back."

Intrigued by their obviously close yet adversarial relationship, she said, "And you always welcome him back."

Contrary to the response she expected, his mouth turned down and he shook his head. "Not this time, I don't think. He's been

gone too long, and I'm tired of working eighty hours a week to cover for him."

"You're going to hire someone to take his place?"

Derek balled up a paper napkin and dropped it on his empty plate. "Depending on whether or not I land the account I'm

working on, I might not have to worry about hiring anyone." His voice was calm, but a crease between his dark eyebrows

betrayed his concern.

Setting down her bottled water, she asked, "You might close the family firm?"

He splayed his large hands. "I might have no choice. I've always managed the accounts, the scheduling, and supervised the

day-to-day operations, but my father and Jack were the creative minds, and the artists." He smiled. "A person can only do so

much with computer clip art."

"Can't you simply hire another artist?"

"Not and still pay Jack."

She angled her head at him. "But why would you still pay Jack?"

"A promise to my father," he said simply, and her opinion of him catapulted. A man of his word—make that a
poor
man of