About Last Night... (17 page)

attractive woman, at that."

With a last look at Derek's handsome profile, Janine pushed herself up from the bed and stretched the phone line across the

room to the sliding glass door. She opened it, stepped onto the tiny balcony and closed the door to the smallest crack that

would accommodate the cord. She drew in a deep breath of fresh air—pollen be damned—relieved for a few minutes of

freedom from those four suffocating burgundy walls, and from those two captivating brown eyes. Slowly she exhaled,

surveying the peaceful scene below her. Except for the fact that the grounds were deserted, and that two uniformed guards

stood chatting at the corner of the building, one would never suspect the resort was under quarantine.

"Sis, are you there?"

Janine snapped back to attention. "Yeah, I'm here."

Marie resumed her munching. "You were about to tell me what you and your hunky best man are doing to while away the

hours."

She mentally reviewed the day—getting her toe stuck in the bathtub faucet, nearly having a sexual encounter with Derek,

discovering she might not be in love with Steve after all… "Not much going on. We've barely interacted, he and I."

"Oooooooooh. Is he the big, strong, silent type?"

"No. He's the big, strong, mind-his-own-business type—hint, hint."

"So he
is
big and strong."

Janine rolled her eyes. "Marie, enough. What's going on out there?"

"Well, you know Mom—she thinks the quarantine is a bad omen. She's been lighting candles like crazy. I took an extra fire

extinguisher over there, just in case."

"Thanks for being my buffer, sis. I just can't talk to her right now."

Marie didn't respond, and she'd stopped chewing. Janine waited with dread for her sister's perceptiveness to make itself

apparent.

Her sister clucked. "Are you okay, sis?"

She cleared her throat. "Other than a persistent bout of clumsiness, I'm fine."

"What does Steve think about calling off the wedding?"

"Postponing," Janine corrected her sourly.

"Whatever. He's not giving you a hard time, is he?"

Not knowingly.
Misery knotted in her stomach. "No, he knows it can't be helped."

"How much longer do you think they'll have the place under quarantine?"

"I don't know. The doctor told Derek worst-case scenario, two weeks."

The announcement obviously stunned her sister into silence. After a few seconds, Marie said, "Well, you asked for

something exciting, and you got it—a quarantine, mixed-up rooms, sleeping with a stranger—

"

Janine yanked the phone cord tight and hissed, "I am
not
sleeping with him!"

"Easy, sis," Marie murmured, "else I might think that something is going on between you and your best man."

Opening her mouth to shout a denial, she realized she was only digging herself deeper into a hole.

"Speaking of which," Marie continued, "where
did
you sleep last night?"

"If you must know, I slept in the bathtub." She held the phone away from her ear until Marie's laughter petered out.

"Whew, that's a good one! So doesn't this guy have any manners?"

"He fell asleep in the bed first, while I was trying to calm down Mother."

"So? You put a pillow in the middle and lie down on the other side."

"Except he was naked."

"Okaaaaaaaay," Marie sang, ever open-minded. "And that would be because…?"

"Because he wasn't wearing any clothes."

"Okey-dokey," she said in an accepting tone. "Speaking of clothes, what are you doing for them?"

"He loaned me a few things."

"He being Derek?"

"Yes."

"You're wearing the man's clothes?"

"Marie, for God's sake, am I talking to myself here?"

"Is this guy on the up-and-up?"

At least once today, she thought wryly. But she recognized concern in her sister's voice when she heard it, and right now,

Marie needed some peace of mind. "He's a decent guy, sis. A little uptight, but decent."

A knock on the sliding glass door spun her around. Derek slid the door open, his expression unreadable as he jerked his

thumb over his shoulder. "You might want to see this," he whispered.

She covered the mouth of the phone. "What?"

"It's Steve. He's on television."

13

« ^ »

"
W
e had to postpone our wedding that was scheduled to take place here at the resort," Steve was saying, looking grim, but

perfectly groomed in his country-club casual garb. He stood at a slight angle, the Green Stations Resort sign visible just over

his left shoulder.

"So your fiancée is trapped inside the resort?" an off-camera male voice asked.

Steve crossed his arms and nodded gravely. "That's correct."

"And do you know if she's ill, Dr. Larsen?"

"The last time I spoke with her, she was feeling fine, but she's a physician's assistant and could be exposing herself to

infected guests even as we speak." He was incredibly photogenic, she acknowledged, his white-blond hair cropped

fashionably short on the sides, longer on top. Funny, but she'd never noticed the petulant tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Are other members of your wedding party confined at the resort?"

Steve hesitated for a split second. "My best man."

"Your bride and your best man are locked up together?" The reporter chuckled.

Clearly distressed, Steve held up a hand, as if to stop the man's train of thought. "Not
together
together, as in the same

room." He laughed, a soft little snort. "That would be unthinkable."

Guilt plowed through her, leaving a wide, raw furrow. She glanced at Derek and he was looking at her, one eyebrow raised.

"I understand you actually had a room here, sir. How did
you
escape the quarantine?"

He sighed heavily. "I left the property for a medical emergency unrelated to the resort, and when I returned, the quarantine

was already under way."

Janine frowned. She'd never known Steve to blatantly lie, although she understood his unwillingness to say he'd been out all

night partying. Of course, she'd been lying like a rug herself lately.

The reporter made a sympathetic sound. "I assume you're going to reschedule the wedding as soon as possible."

"Absolutely," Steve said, then looked directly into the camera. "This is for the future Mrs. Steven Larsen. Sweetheart, if

you're watching, remember how much I love you." He winked, and her heart scooted sideways.

The camera switched to the reporter. "So, a cruel twist of fate is keeping the fiancée of Dr. Steven Larsen confined with the

doctor's best man."

Janine squinted, clutching the hastily hung-up phone.

"As a result, the vice-mayor's son's wedding has been canceled."

"Postponed," Janine muttered.

"Meanwhile, there seems to be no end in sight to the quarantine now in effect at the Green Stations Resort. This is Andy

Judge. Now back to you in the studio."

The anchorwoman came on-screen. "Thank you, Andy. Keep us posted." A small smile played on her face. "Stay with us for

continuing coverage of … 'The Quarantine Crisis.'" A menacing bass throbbed in the background as the news faded to a

commercial. Janine gaped at the screen.

"Something tells me Steve's father is not going to like this," Derek said.

A knock sounded on the door, kicking up Janine's pulse. In two long strides, Derek reached the door and stooped to look

through the keyhole. "It's Dr. Pedro," he said, then stepped back and swung open the door.

"Mr. Stillman, you requested another examination?"

Derek looked in her direction, then back to the doctor. "Janine seems to think I might be suffering from allergies instead of an

infection."

Dr. Pedro walked inside and set his bag on the foot of the bed. "Well, let's take a look, shall we?"

She knew she should stay and find out as much about the status of the quarantine as possible, but Janine swept the items

Manny had brought her into the shopping bag and escaped to the bathroom to think. She closed the door and dumped the

contents of the bag onto the counter, then dropped to the vanity stool, sorting toiletries from souvenir clothes. Bless Manny's

heart. In addition to necessities, he'd brought her a single tube of pink lipstick, a nice quality hairbrush and a package of simple

cotton underwear.

When the items had been stacked, folded and stored away, Janine sighed and stared at herself in the mirror. Her fingers

jumped and twitched involuntarily. Nerves, she knew. Entwining her fingers, she stretched them out and away from her, the

first time she'd ever felt compelled to crack her knuckles. One knuckle popped faintly, shooting pain up her hand, and the other

fingers emitted a dull crunching sound, which made her a bit light-headed.

She'd never been so scared in her life. Nothing was more terrifying, she realized, than thinking you knew yourself, only to

discover an alien had invaded your body and mind. The real Janine Murphy wouldn't be second-guessing her marriage to one

of the most eligible men in Atlanta. The real Janine Murphy wouldn't be entertaining kisses from a strange man and allowing

his presence to drive her to distraction. The real Janine Murphy wouldn't be lying to practically everyone she knew about her

humiliating circumstances.

She squinted, hoping to find answers to her troubling questions somewhere behind her eyes, and found one.

The real Janine Murphy wouldn't be lying to herself.

When she'd seen Steve on the television screen, she'd witnessed a spoiled, polished, self-absorbed man putting on a show

for the cameras. Not a single time during Steve's interview had he even mentioned her name, referring to her instead as
Mrs.

Steven Larsen.
Granted, his defensive reaction on the phone to her clumsy attempt at intimacy had left a bad taste in her mouth,

but she was starting to recognize a disturbing pattern in his behavior that she hadn't seen before—or rather, hadn't wanted to

see.

Steve was more interested in her state of womanhood than in her as a woman. For his family name. For his father's

reputation. Heck, maybe even for some kind of deep-seated territorial macho urge. None of which boded well for marital

happiness.

From the other room, she heard the sound of the door closing. Dr. Pedro had left, which meant that once again she was alone

with Derek. Alone for—how had he put it?—for God only knows how long. A silent groan filled her belly and chest, then

lodged in her constricted throat.

She'd have to be dense not to recognize the sexual pull between them. Marie had been telling her stories about electric

chemistry, tingly insides and throbbing outsides since they were teenagers, but this was the first time Janine had experienced

how a physical attraction could override a person's otherwise good judgment.

A bitter laugh escaped her. Override? More like trample.

Janine's shoulders sagged with resignation because, in the midst of her general confusion, one conclusion suddenly seemed

crystal clear: she simply couldn't marry Steve, at least not the way things were between them, not the way things were between

her and Derek, even if it was only in her mind.

Regardless of her enigmatic feelings, she wasn't about to drag Derek into the melee. After all, he and Steve were friends long

before she came into the picture. Besides, Derek would probably laugh at the notion of her putting so much stock in her

physical attraction to him. It was different for men, she realized, but she couldn't help her strong, if quaint, tendency to

associate sex with deep emotional feelings. Which was precisely why she found her reaction to Derek so disturbing. If she

were truly in love with Steve, she wouldn't have been tempted by Derek's kisses.

Would she?

She heard the room door open and close again, and wondered briefly if Derek had gone to try to set things straight with

Maureen the Machine.

A faint rap sounded at the bathroom door. "Janine, our dinner is here."

The split second of relief that he hadn't left the room was squelched by the realization that the sound of his voice had become

so, so … welcome. Resolved to be cool and casual, despite her recent revelations, she pushed herself to her feet.

* * *

sparkling horizon to the south to the sparse, more rural skyline he'd left behind. The remnants of daylight bled pale blue into the

distant violet-colored treeline, broken up with splashes of silver and light where progress encroached on the north side of the

city. He sipped just-delivered coffee, then winced when the hot liquid burned his tongue.

He deserved it, he decided. For kissing an engaged woman.
Steve's
engaged woman. His pal was a bit on the uppity side,

and he questioned his commitment to Janine, but seeing his face on TV, hearing him say he loved her was like a wake-up call to

his snoozing sense of honor.

No matter how attracted he was to the woman, he'd simply have to keep his damn hands to himself, and pray that she did the