About Last Night...

“After all, you made the trip down here…”

As he approached the lobby area, a buzz of voices rose above the saxophone Muzak, reminding him of bees. But then again, he did have honey on the brain. Good grief, he needed sleep.

“And you’re not feeling well,” she rattled on. “Blah, blah, blah…”

The buzz increased as he rounded the corner. He stopped abruptly at the sight before him, and she slammed into him from behind, jarring his aching head.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I didn’t realize—”

“Can you be quiet?” He pulled her by the arm to stand alongside him, too distracted by the scene to worry about her tender feelings.

The step-down lobby of the hotel was swarming with people, some in their pajamas sitting in chairs or lying on couches, others in lab coats, tending to the guests, others in security uniforms, hovering.

“What the hell?” he murmured.

“They’re medics,” Janine said. “Something’s wrong.” She walked over and knelt in front of a young man in a hotel uniform sitting in a chair looking feverish and limp. While her lips moved, Janine put a hand on the youth’s forehead and took his pulse. The coat she wore fell open below the last button, revealing splendid legs encased in those black hose, and bringing to mind other vivid details about what lay hidden beneath the coat. She tossed the mane of blond hair he’d come to suspect was real over one shoulder, evoking memories of its silkiness sliding over his chest and face.

Recognizing the dead-end street he was traveling, Derek shook himself mentally and strained to remember what she said she did for a living. A nurse? A nurse’s aide? No, a physician’s assistant. Except the woman seemed way too flaky to oversee someone else’s welfare.

She rose and patted the young man on the arm, then returned.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Janine shrugged. “No one knows. Several employees and guests have come down with flulike symptoms, so they called for medical assistance.”

The remains of pink color shimmered on her full mouth…a mouth that had been kissing him not too long ago. His groin tightened. “Is it serious?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t seem to be. My guess is a bad white sauce served in the restaurant, or something like that.” Then she stopped and angled her head at him. “Wait a minute—when did you start feeling bad?”

He shrugged. “When I got here, there was a mix-up on my reservation, so I hung around the lobby for a while until Steve arrived. I remember asking the clerk for directions to the gift shop to buy some cold medicine before I walked up to Steve’s room.”

She stepped closer and tiptoed to place her small hand on his forehead. He flinched in surprise, but relented. Her eyes were the same deep color of blue as his mother’s favorite pansies. The best part of winter, she always said. His pulse kicked higher. He had to get out of here, fast.

“You’re a little warm,” she announced, her forehead slightly creased. “But not anything alarming.”

He stepped around her, his eye on the revolving exit door on the far side of the lobby. Outside sat a yellow taxi, his escape hatch. “Listen, I’m going to grab that cab to the airport. I’ll see ya, Pinky. Have a happy marriage and all that jazz.” And good riddance.

“But wait, don’t you want to see a doctor?”

He shook his head as he turned to go. “Nope.”

She grabbed his arm. “Derek, what are you going to tell Steve…about tonight?”

He took in her wide eyes and her parted lips and for a minute he wondered if she knew what kind of man she was marrying. She seemed so innocent. Then he laughed at himself—dressing up in naughty lingerie and coming to the hotel to please Steve was not the act of an innocent. Besides, for all he knew, Steve had changed and would be a faithful husband. On the other hand, sometimes women knew their boyfriends were philanderers and didn’t care, or liked the freedom it afforded them. Steve was probably well on his way to becoming a wealthy man, and money could make people overlook a variety of indiscretions. Either way, it was none of his business. He wet his parched lips. “What do you want me to tell him?”

She averted her eyes, and he could see the wheels turning in her pretty head. When she glanced back, she looked hopeful. “Nothing?”

He smirked. Nothing like honesty to get a marriage started off on the right foot. “You got it, Pinkie. Nothing happened. We ran into each other in the lobby as I was leaving.”

“Okay.” Her smile was tentative as he increased the distance between them. “Well, goodbye,” she said, then waved awkwardly.

He nodded. “I’ll leave Steve a message when I get to the airport and I’ll touch base with him next week.”

“We’ll be in Paris for two weeks,” she called.

“Better him than me,” he said, knowing she couldn’t hear him. He waved and smiled as if he’d said something inanely nice, then turned and strode toward the exit, his steps hurried. He couldn’t wait to feel bluegrass under his feet again. Steve and Jack could have the high life and the high-maintenance women. Right now he’d settle for a honey of a good advertising idea.

And a good night’s sleep to banish the memory of Steve’s bride in his bed.

WITH MIXED FEELINGS swirling in her chest, Janine watched Derek’s broad-shouldered frame walk out the door. She was off the hook. She could leave now and Steve would never know she’d been there. Derek had said he wouldn’t mention the incident, and for some odd reason, she believed him. His seriousness had struck her—he was a man with a lot of responsibility. What had he said? That he’d left at a busy time to attend a ceremony he didn’t believe in?

Actually, she should be feeling nothing but giddy relief. Instead, she had the most unsettling sensation that something…important…had just slipped through her fingers…

Janine shook herself back to the present. She still had tomorrow night—technically, tonight—after the rehearsal dinner to broach the issue of having sex with Steve. Leaning over to massage her heel, she acknowledged she might have to regroup and come up with a different outfit, but Marie would think of something.

She headed toward the pay phones, threading her way through the people in the lobby. She was tempted to offer assistance to the medics, but they seemed to have everything under control, and she was still feeling the effects of the wine. Tomorrow morning—correction, in a few hours—she’d call that nice Mr. Oliver to make certain the problem had been resolved. The last thing she needed was to have the entire wedding party food-poisoned at the rehearsal dinner. Her mother was already on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

She picked up the phone and redialed the apartment using her memorized calling-card number. Her sister answered on the first ring.

“Marie, thank God you’re home.”

“I just walked in the door. I stopped on the way home to pick up pineapple juice. Why aren’t you, um, busy?”

“Because Steve’s not here.”

“What? But he answered the phone when you called.”

“No, his best man answered the phone. Steve gave the guy his room because the man was sick and didn’t feel like going out with everyone else.” She waited for the revelation to sink in and was rewarded with a gasp.

“You mean, you greeted the best man wearing that pink getup?”

Janine relived her humiliation yet again. “Noooooo. I mean, I crawled into bed with the best man wearing this pink getup.”

For once, she had achieved the impossible—Marie was struck speechless.

“Marie, are you there?”

“Are you saying—” her sister make a strangled noise “—that you put a stroke on the best man?”

“No!” she snapped. “We sort of realized the mistake, Marie.”

“At what point?”

Janine remembered the kiss and experienced her first all-body blush—not completely unpleasant—then leaned against the enclosure. “My virtue is intact.”

“Unbelievable! See, exciting things do happen to you.”

“Really? Humiliating was the first word that came to my mind.”