About Last Night... (24 page)

She canceled the wedding at the last minute."

His heart vaulted. "I see. How … how can I get in touch with her?"

"Well, Mr. Stillman—"

"Call me Derek."

"Derek, it's like this, Janine is juggling three jobs, and she only comes home to sleep."

He looked at his watch, estimating the time he could be in Atlanta. "Where will she be in three hours?"

"She'll be at the clinic this afternoon and evening. Got a pencil?"

Derek grabbed five.

19

« ^ »

J
anine jogged through the parking lot toward the clinic—late again. Darn the traffic, she was going to be fired for sure if she

didn't find a better shortcut. The commute from the urgent-care center to the clinic was always a bit iffy, but she usually made it

on time. This week, however, she'd already clocked in late twice.

By the time she reached the entrance steps, she was winded and her feet felt like anvils. She groaned under her breath—

another twelve flights of concrete stairs awaited her inside. Well, at least her legs were getting stronger, not to mention her

bank account. She'd be able to send Mrs. Larsen a respectable amount for the first payment on the ring.

The woman had been doubly devastated, first by the cancellation of the wedding, then by the loss of her mother's ring. Janine

had paid her a visit and they had cried together. Mrs. Larsen blamed Steve to some extent because he hadn't properly insured

the ring, but Janine knew exactly where the fault lay. She'd insisted on sending regular payments until the appraisal value had

been met … all thirty-seven thousand, four hundred dollars of it.

This first month, she'd be paying off the four hundred. Only thirty-seven thousand to go, and at this rate, she'd have it paid off

in a little less than eight years. Mrs. Stillman had graciously suspended any interest, probably because she doubted Janine

would even make a dent in the principal.

But she absolutely, positively would not only make a dent, Janine promised herself, she would pay off every penny to rid

herself of the psychological obligation to Steve Larsen.

If she lived that long, she thought, stopping to flex her calf muscles, stiff from standing all day, and objecting already to the

next eight-hour shift ahead of her. After entering the building, she crossed the lobby, then slowed at the elevator bank, noting

how quickly the cars seemed to zip through the floors. Maybe she could take the elevator just this once. Her decision was made

when the doors to a car slid open. She was the only one waiting, so she stepped inside and quickly located the door-close

button, lest the car fill up with big, pushing bodies.

When the door slid closed, she moved to the rear wall in the center and leaned back, grateful for a few seconds of rest, and

blocking out the fact that she was in a small, moving box.

She closed her eyes, and as was customary, Derek's face popped into her mind. In the beginning, fresh from Steve's ugliness

and suffering under her own guilt, she had squelched all thoughts of Derek as soon as they entered her head. But gradually,

she'd come to realize that remembering their times together made her happy, and darn it, she needed a little happiness in her

life. At moments like these, she especially felt like indulging.

His smiling brown eyes, his big, gentle hands, his dry sense of humor. She loved him, a feeling so intense she was

embarrassed that she'd imagined herself to be in love with Steve. She wondered if she ever crossed Derek's mind.

Suddenly the car lurched to a halt. Her eyes flew open and her heart fell to her aching feet. She waited for a floor to light up

and the door to slide open, but the machinery seemed strangely silent. "Oh no," she whispered, her knees going weak. "Oh,

please no."

She stumbled to the control panel and stabbed the door-open button, along with several floor buttons, but none of them lit or

produced any kind of movement. Hating the implication, she opened the little door on the box that held a red phone, then picked

up the handset. Immediately, the operator answered and assured Janine they would have the elevator moving soon. With her

chest heaving, she asked that her supervisor be contacted, and gave the man her name. After hanging up the phone, she shrank to

the back wall, forcing herself to stare at the blue-carpeted floor, all too aware of the sickly sweet odor in the air that permeated

most medical facilities.

She slid down the wall to sit with her legs sprawled in front of her, and bowed her head to cry—the worst thing a person

could do with the onset of a panic attack imminent. But her stupidity, her broken heart and her exhaustion converged into this

moment and she recognized her body's need for emotional release.

Burying her head in her folded arms, she let the tears flow and pushed at the black walls that seemed to be collapsing around

her. Steel bands wrapped around her chest and began to contract, as if they were alive.

She gasped for air. Inhale, exhale. Her life certainly wasn't horrid—she met seriously ill people every day on her jobs who

would gladly trade places with her. But she felt so … so cheated to have fallen in love with a man who would forever

remember her as a wanton woman with a penchant for trouble. Most of her life she hadn't been overly concerned about what

people thought of her. But worrying and wondering what Derek thought of her kept her awake most nights, even when her body

throbbed with fatigue.

She knew Marie was worried about her. After all, she'd lost weight and rarely socialized. Most of her free time to date had

been consumed with returning shower gifts with cards of apology. Steve had made one spiteful phone call to her the day after

she'd talked to his mother about paying for the ring. He'd told her she'd shamed the family, and he would never forgive her for

her outrageous behavior. In response, she had suggested that his receptionist, Sandy, might be a more suitable companion, then

proceeded to read him the note the woman had left in the gift he'd given her. Steve hadn't called again.

Derek's connection to Steve presented yet another complication she didn't want to pursue, not in this lifetime. The friendship

perplexed her—the two men seemed so different.

Her heart raced. She knew she needed to focus on her breathing, but she felt so weak, physically and mentally. Her throat

constricted, forcing her to swallow convulsively for relief. A glance at her watch revealed she'd been at a standstill i

n the

elevator for over twenty minutes. She needed to get out. Now. Struggling to her feet, she pounded on the steel doors with as

much energy as she could muster. "Help! Can anyone hear me? I have to get out, please … help … me!"

The phone rang, the peal so loud in the small space that she shrieked. She knelt to pick up the handset, her hand trembling,

her lungs quivering. "Please … get me … out of here."

"We're working on it, Pinky."

Her sharp inhale turned into a hiccup. "D-Derek?" she whispered.

"I'm in the lobby, and just in time, it seems. You know, this could be a full-time job, getting you out of scrapes."

"But h

o

w

—

"

"We'll have plenty of time to talk later. Right now, you need to relax and breathe."

Just knowing he was out there made her feel even more trapped. She had to get to him, had to explain how things had gotten

so messed up. Her chest pumped up and down, like a bellows sucking the air out of her.

"Breathe, Janine, breathe. They'll have you out of there in no time. Don't think about where you are, just concentrate and

breathe. Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth."

She did as she was told, content for the moment just to hear his voice. Inhale, exhale. Derek was here. Inhale, exhale.
Why

was Derek here? Inhale, exhale. "What … are you … doing here?"

"Keep breathing. I have some good news. I found that ring you lost."

Sheer elation shot through her. "What? Where?"

"Keep breathing. In that darned jar of honey butter. It must have fallen off when you were tending to my hand. Thank God I

didn't throw it away."

Relief flooded her limbs and she tried to laugh, but it came out sounding more like a wheeze. "I can't … believe it." Her joy

diminished a fraction at the realization that he'd come back on an errand—albeit a grand one—and not to see her. But at least

she'd get to talk to him, to look at him. Inhale, exhale. And she'd be able to return Mrs. Larsen's beloved ring.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked, his voice a caress.

"Yes," she whispered.

"I have more good news," he continued. "Thanks to you, I landed the Phillips Honey account. And you were right about

changing the name—sales are up already."

Janine smiled. After all the trouble she'd caused him, she was glad she'd helped him in some small way. "That's wonderful.

So your company is back on its feet?"

"Yeah, and my brother finally found his way home, so I'm not alone anymore."

At least she wouldn't worry so much about him.

"Hey, they're getting ready to start the elevator car."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the car began to descend slowly, the floors ticking by until it halted at the lobby

level. She hung up the phone and pushed herself to her feet just as the door opened. A small crowd had gathered and applauded

when she walked out on elastic legs. She needed to sit down, but she needed to see Derek worse.

He was hard to miss, jogging toward her, the largest man in the crowd by far. He wore a dark business suit and, if possible,

was more handsome than she remembered. Her heart lodged in her throat as he slowed to a walk, then stopped in front of her.

"Hi," he said, his brown eyes shining.

Oh, how she loved this man. "Hi, yourself," she croaked.

"Let's get you to a chair," he said, steering her in the direction of a furniture grouping. She realized she must look a fright—

except for the elevator incident, she hadn't stopped all day. The white lab coat she wore over navy slacks and a pink blouse

hung loose and rumpled, and her sensible walking shoes weren't even close to being attractive. But, she acknowledged wryly,

it seemed silly to fret about her clothing when Derek was intimately acquainted with what lay beneath her clothes.

"Thank you," she murmured as she sank onto a couch. "I was going a little crazy in there."

His smile made her stomach churn with anxiety. "Good timing," he said.

"How did you know where to find me?"

"Your sister told me. I hope you don't mind me coming to your job, but I thought you might want the ring as soon as possible."

She nodded, thinking sadly that by the time she clocked out this evening, he'd be back in Kentucky. Her pulse pounded at his

nearness.

"I had it cleaned," he said, withdrawing a ring box from his pocket.

She smiled. How thoughtful. He'd even bought a box.

He handed it to her and she opened the hinged lid. She blinked, then frowned. The ring was platinum all right, but instead of

a gaggle of large stones, a single round diamond sparkled back at her. Lifting her gaze to his, she shook her head. "Derek, this

isn't the ring that Steve gave me."

His forehead darkened for the briefest of seconds, then he exhaled, looking tentative. "I know it's not as nice as the ring Steve

gave you, but I was hoping you would, um—

" Derek cleared his throat noisily, then met her gaze "

— accept it anyway."

Vapors of happiness fluttered on the periphery of her heart, but she wouldn't allow herself to jump to conclusions, no matter

how pleasant. She wet her lips. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Derek said, his face flushed, "I know we live a few hundred miles apart, and we didn't exactly have an auspicious

beginning … but I love you, Janine, and I couldn't bear the thought of returning another man's ring without having one of my

own to offer you."

Speechless, she could only stare at him. He loved her? He
loved
her.

Derek winced and scrubbed his hand down his face, then stood and walked around the couch to stare out a floor-to-ceiling

window. "Forget it. It was a crazy idea." He laughed. "I let my brother convince me that things were the way I wanted them to

be. I have no right to put you on the spot like this." He turned back, his face weary. "I'm sorry."

Carrying the ring, she rose and circled around to join him at the window. With her heart nearly bursting, she asked, "Do you

have the other ring?"

He paused a few seconds, then he nodded and pulled a second box from another pocket.

She turned her back to him to hide her smile of jubilation. Janine opened the lid and inspected the dazzling Larsen family ring

that now looked to her more like an albatross than a promise.

Derek watched her, dying a slow, agonizing death. What had he been thinking to show up unannounced with an engagement

ring after a month of no contact? He could kick himself. Or better yet, Jack. The scheme had seemed like a good one when he

and his brother had worked it out, but now he realized he needed Jack's flamboyance to carry it off. In addition to a woman

who loved him.

Janine snapped the lid closed, then turned back to him. "Derek, did you know I'm offering a reward for the ring?"

He blinked. A reward? The last thing he wanted was her money. "Janine —