Page 27 of About Last Night

He swept a soap wrapper and an empty miniature shampoo bottle from the side of the tub into the trash to clear a spot, thenpicked up the dripping metal razor and gave her a pointed look. "You used my razor?"

She bit her lower lip. "To shave my legs. I thought it was Steve's."

His jaw tightened as he set aside the razor. "It isn't."

He didn't have a girlfriend, she realized suddenly. At least not a live-in. Not even a lady friend who occasionally spent the night, else he would be used to sharing his razor. Then she frowned. Not that she'd ever used Steve's.

"Would you please turn off the motor so I can think?" he asked, his voice strained.

"I can't reach the switch," she said, pointing over his shoulder.

He stabbed the button in the corner of the tub ledge and the rumbling motor died abruptly, taking the soothing bubbles with it. Suddenly the room fell so quiet, she could hear the calling of birds outside the skylight, where daybreak was well under way. The eve of her supposed wedding day. She felt light-headed and realized she hadn't eaten in hours. And Derek's imposing nearness was tripping her claustrophobic tendencies.

He gripped the side of the tub and perused her foot from all directions, then he glanced back at her. "Can't you just pull it out?"

She scratched her nose, realizing too late her hand was covered with suds. Sputtering the bubbles away from her mouth, she said, "If I could, I wouldn't have called you."

He pursed his mouth, then said, "I'm not a plumber."

"Do something," she pleaded. "The water's getting cold, and I'm shriveling up."

"Really? Gee, and you've only been in here for an hour." His teasing tone took the bite out of his words.

"You were the one who suggested I take a long, hot bath."

He laughed, then turned his attention back to her foot. "I don't recall suggesting that you insert your toe into the metal pipe coming out of the wall."

She pressed her lips together and braced for his touch. He clasped her foot gently, but firmly, and his fingers sent arrows of tingly sensations exploding up her leg, reminiscent of her climax. She grunted and he looked over his shoulder.

"My leg is asleep," she explained.

He isolated his grip to the base of her toe, wriggling it side to side. The inside lip of the faucet dug into her tender skin.

"Ouch! Not so hard."

"I'm sorry," he said, seemingly at a loss for what to do next. "I need something slick to lubricate your toe." He looked around. "Where's the soap?"

"You mean that little bitty bar of soap the hotel provided? I used it all."

He flicked a dubious glance over her towel-covered body. Maybe he thought she didn't look clean enough to have used an entire bar of soap. Her skin tingled, and not from her leg being asleep.

"Shampoo?" he asked.

She lifted a shaky finger to point to her head. "I have a lot of hair."

A wry frown tugged at his mouth. "I can see that."

"Don't you have soap or shampoo in your toiletry bag?" She pointed to the black case on the vanity she'd mistaken for Steve's.

He shook his head. "I travel light and expect hotels to have those things." Then he snapped his fingers. "But I do have shaving cream."

Janine reached behind her to hand him the empty travel-size can of shaving cream. "You were almost out anyway," she offered in her defense.

He depressed the button to the sound of hissing emptiness. The side of his cheek bulged from his probing tongue. He tossed the can into the trash, then pushed to his feet. "Maybe Steve will have something in his bag."

The bathroom seemed cavernous in his absence, and she wondered briefly how Steve would have handled this predicament. With much less good humor, she suspected, and the realization bothered her.

Derek returned with Steve's black bag, set it on the vanity and ransacked it for several minutes. "Nothing," he said, defeated. "I'll call the front desk and have something sent up."

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