About Last Night... (2 page)

and butts and lips and chins."

"Maybe," she agreed.

"Well, you know he's a full-fledged hetero—Steve's other girlfriends weren't known for their, ahem, virtuous restraint."

Janine closed her eyes, suddenly sick to her stomach. "That's what worries me. I've heard him say there are two kinds of

women—the ones you sleep with and the ones you marry."

Marie winced. "Uh-oh. Therapy alert."

Janine nodded, blinking back tears.

"So if you're worried, why did you say yes?"

She inhaled, then sat cross-legged. "Good question. I think I need another glass of wine."

Marie obliged, filling her lipstick-smudged glass from the bottle sitting on the dresser. "No more for me, I'm going over to

Greg's later."

Janine swallowed a mouthful of the sweet liquid, savoring the slight tingle as it slid down her throat. "Why did I say yes?

Because Steve is great-looking and he has a terrific future, and he's charming and he likes the same things I do."

"Harvesting herbs and practicing yoga?" Marie looked dubious.

"Okay, not
everything
I like to do, but we're good together—you said so yourself."

"Uh-uh," her sister denied with a finger wag. "I said you
look
good together—blond and blue-eyed, you the flower child, he

the Valley guy. But that doesn't mean you're
good
together."

This conversation was not making her feel better. No one at the clinic was more surprised than she when Steve Larsen, the

hunky surgeon who had every woman in white shoes worked into a lather, had asked her out. Frankly, she'd anticipated losing

her virginity rather quickly to the ladies' man with the notorious reputation, but instead, he had scrupulously avoided intimate

contact.

"Steve's a gentleman," she murmured.

"Janine!" Marie said, exasperated. "You shouldn't marry the guy just because you think he's nice. Are you sure you want to

spend the rest of your life with Steve Larsen?"

She'd lain awake last night asking herself the same question, wallowing in her concerns, trying to sort through her overblown

fantasies of passionate love and what appeared to be a less interesting reality. "His life and his family are just so …

fascinating."

"You're fascinating," Marie insisted.

"I thought I was the one drinking. Sis, I have the most boring life of any person I know."

Marie lifted her hands. "I'm sure there are exciting things going on at the clinic all the time."

"Oh, yeah, flu season gives me goose bumps."

Marie crossed her arms. "Okay, I'll bite—what would you consider exciting?"

Janine studied the ceiling, smiling in lazy wishful thinking. "I'd like to be caught up in a passionate relationship with Steve—

you know, where we can't keep our hands of each other. I want … something irrational. Illogical. And highly irregular."

Her sister sighed. "Don't we all? If you're having second thoughts, you need to be proactive. Look in the mirror, Janine. In

case no one's told you, you don't have to settle."

"Spoken like a true sister," she teased, but panic swirled in her stomach. She gripped her glass tighter. "And I don't feel like

I'm settling … most of the time. I love Steve, and I know sex isn't everything, but what if he and I aren't physically compatible?"

Marie angled her head. "Couples can work through those things, although Steve doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who

would agree to see a counselor."

"You got that right." Steve prided himself on having his life together, from his thriving cosmetic surgery practice to his low

golf handicap.

Marie quirked her mouth from side to side. "You're not married yet. There's still time."

Janine laughed miserably. "Right, I can just see telling Mother I'm canceling the wedding because Steve won't have sex with

me."

"No, I mean you still have time to find out if the two of you are sexually compatible." Her mouth curved into a mischievous

smile. "Where is Steve tonight?"

"The groomsmen gave him a bachelor party at the resort. He's spending the night there."

"Perfect! You said you'd tried everything short of throwing yourself at him, right?"

"Yeah," Janine offered, wary.

Marie held up the pink bustier and grinned. "I can't think of a better outfit to wear while throwing yourself at the man you're

about to marry."

"But—" Her mind spun for a good reason to object, except she couldn't think of one.

"Try it on and see how it looks."

Janine stood and considered the outrageous getup while she sipped her wine. "I don't know if I can figure out all those

hooks."

Her sister scoffed. "I have one of these things, although it's not nearly as nice." She glanced at the label and whistled. "Darn,

Sandy must have dropped a pretty penny on this outfit."

"Steve obviously overpays her," Janine said, then immediately felt petty. Steve's receptionist wasn't to blame for the holes in

their relationship. Maybe Marie was right—maybe she hadn't been vocal enough about her … needs.

"A little big," Marie observed, handing over the various pieces of the naughty ensemble, "but probably more comfortable

this way."

Janine held up the lingerie, incongruous against her long, shapeless navy dress. A woman of twenty-nine had needs, after all.

"You're going to rock his world," Marie said over her shoulder.

She took her vitamins every day, she stayed fit, she read
Cosmo …
she could do this. Besides, she was a summer—pink was

on her palette. "Okay, I'll do it."

Marie clapped her hands. "What a story for me to tell your daughter."

"Not until she's fifty, or I'm dead, whichever comes first."

* * *

"Inhale and hold it."

"I thought you said this was a little big," Janine gasped, afraid to exhale. "I think you detached a rib."

"For Steve's sake, I hope this thing is easier to remove than it is to get on." With a final yank, Marie straightened and backed

away. "Where are those black heels you bought when we were at the mall a few months ago?" She walked to the closet.

"You mean those shoes you made me buy because they were such a great deal but they weren't such a great deal because I've

never worn them?"

"Yeah."

"On the bottom shelf in the orange box."

Marie went to the closet, and emerged, triumphant. After Janine stepped into the shoes, she stared in the full-length mirror at

the pink-and-black creation: the boned pink satin bustier pushed her breasts to incredible heights and left her shoulders bare

above black ruffly trim. Black laces crisscrossed her back, and Marie had tied them off with a large bow at the top. The

matching panties were cut high on the legs, veeing below her navel, and trimmed with more scratchy lace. The black garter

belts connecting the bottom of the bustier with the top of her thigh-high black hose were drawn so tight, she was sure if they

popped, she'd be maimed for life. "If I had a feather boa, I could walk onto the set of
Gunsmoke."

Behind her, Marie laughed. "You look awesome! You hide that fab figure of yours. Believe me, Steve won't know what hit

him. You two will be so exhausted after tonight, you'll have to postpone the wedding."

Maybe it was the effects of the wine, but she had to admit she was feeling pretty sexy, albeit a little shaky, in her stiletto

heels. "But what will I do?"

"I'll drop you off at the resort, and you can surprise him."

She looked down. "I'll be arrested if I walk into the hotel like this."

Her sister went back to the closet and returned carrying a black all-weather coat. "Here."

Janine shrugged into the coat and belted it.

"See—perfectly innocent," Marie said. "No one will ever know that beneath the coat is a red-hot siren getting ready to

sound."

"But what will I do for clothes tomorrow?"

"Are you serious? You two won't leave that room. Don't worry, I'll come early and bring your outfit for the rehearsal dinner.

Now let's get going before you lose your nerve."

Janine grabbed Marie's arm. "I think I'd better call him first."

"But this is supposed to be a surprise!"

"But what if he isn't there? I mean, what if the guys stay out late?" She fished a thick phone book from a deep drawer in the

nightstand.

Marie checked her watch. "It's after midnight, and it'll take us thirty minutes to get to the resort."

"But if they went out, the bars are still open."

Her sister sighed. "Okay, but no talking—if he answers, just hang up."

"Agreed," she said, dialing. An operator answered after a few rings and transferred her to Steve's room. When the phone

started ringing, for the briefest second she hoped he wouldn't answer, to let her off the hook. She
was
a little tipsy, after all, and

things would most likely make sense again in the morning. Their relationship was strong and their sex life would probably be

great after they were married.

But on the third ring, he picked up the phone. "Hello?" he mumbled, obviously roused from sleep.

A thrill skittered through her at the sound of his smoky voice. He wasn't out at the strip clubs with the guys after all—not that

she'd been worried.

"Hello?" he repeated.

She smiled into the phone, then hung up quietly, considerably cheered and suddenly anticipating her little adventure. They

would make love all night, and in the morning she would laugh at her fears. She stood and swung her purse over her shoulder,

then grinned at Marie. "Let's go."

But while climbing into her sister's car—she practically had to lie down to keep the boned bustier from piercing her—she

did have one last thought. "Marie, what if this stunt doesn't work?"

Her sister started the engine and flashed her a smile in the dark. "Whatever happens, Janine, this night could determine the

direction of the rest of your life."

* * *

floor, but his head ached so much he didn't move to replace it. Just his luck that he'd finally gotten to sleep and someone had

called to wake him and breathe into the receiver. He lay staring at the ceiling, wishing, not for the first time, he were still in

Kentucky. There was something about feeling like hell that made a person homesick, especially when he hadn't wanted to make

the trip to Atlanta in the first place.

The caller had probably been Steve, he thought. Maybe checking in to see how he was feeling. A second later he changed his

mind—his buddy was too wrapped up in enjoying a last night of freedom to be concerned about him. He sneezed, then fisted

his hands against the mattress. Confound his brother, Jack! In college Jack had been closer to Steve than he, but since Jack had

dropped out of sight for the past couple of months, Derek had felt obligated to stand in as best man when Steve had asked him.

Once again, he was left to pick up his younger brother's slack.

He inhaled cautiously because his head felt close to bursting. He'd obviously picked up a bug while traveling, which only

added insult to injury. On top of everything else, the timing to be away from the advertising firm couldn't be worse—he was

vying for the business of a client large enough to swing the company well into the black, but he needed an innovative campaign

for their product, and soon. If ever he could use Jack, it was now, since he'd always been the more creative one. Derek was

certain their father had established the Stillman & Sons Agency with the thought in mind to try to keep Jack busy and out of

trouble, but so far, the plan had failed.

Hot and irritable, Derek swung his legs over the side of the bed and felt his way toward the bathroom for a glass of water.

His throat was so parched, he could barely swallow. He banged his shin on a hard suitcase, either his or Steve's, he wasn't

sure which. If his trip hadn't been enough of an ordeal, he'd arrived late at the hotel and they'd already given away his room.

Since Steve was planning to be out all night partying, he'd offered Derek his room, and since Derek had felt too ill to join the

rowdy group for the bachelor party, he'd accepted.

The tap water was tepid, but it was wet and gave his throat momentary relief. He drank deeply, then stumbled back to bed,

knowing he wouldn't be sleeping again soon.

Too bad he hadn't come down with something at home. Then he would've had a legitimate excuse to skip the ceremony. He

thought of Steve and grunted in sympathy.
Marriage.
Why on earth would anyone want to get married these days anyway? What

kind of fool would stake his freedom on a bet where the odds were two failures out of every three? Wasn't life complicated

enough without throwing something else into the mix?

They were all confirmed bachelors—he, Jack and Steve. Steve was the womanizer; Jack, the scoundrel; and he, the loner.

He couldn't imagine what kind of woman had managed to catch Steve Larsen's eye and keep it. The only comment his buddy

had made about his fiancée was that she was sweet, but anyone who could convince Steve to set aside his philandering ways

had to be a veritable angel.

Achy and scratchy, he lay awake for several more minutes before he started to doze off. Oddly, his head was full of visions