Page 33 of About Last Night

THANK GOODNESSthe tiny balcony was cast in the shade of the building at this early hour, because he needed to cool off. Derek leaned on the white wrought-iron railing and fought to collect himself, appreciating the view of walking paths, fountain and golf courses, and reproaching himself. He'd never acted so foolishly in his life. Women had never been high on his list of priorities—school, football, work, family and friendship had always taken precedence. Always.

At the age of fourteen, he'd lost his first girlfriend to his younger, but more debonair brother, Jack, and decided shortly thereafter that women weren't worth arguing over. He'd left the brightest flowers for both Jack and his buddy Steve, preferring to date quiet, uncomplicated girls who didn't consume him or his energy.

He still preferred the quiet ones. Which was why his infuriating attraction to Pinky—dammit—Janineso perplexed him. Not only was the woman the mistress of mischief, but she just happened to be engaged to a man who thought enough of Derek to ask him to be his Best Man.

Well, granted, he was second choice behind Jack, but still, the least he owed Steve was to keep his hands off his bride. No matter how adorably inept she was, the woman already had a protector—a rich doctor—so she certainly didn't need him, a struggling entrepreneur.

It was his near-celibate lifestyle of late, he decided. He'd been so caught up in trying to locate Jack, and with the goings-on at the ad agency, he hadn't indulged in much of a social life lately. Lenore, the woman he'd been seeing occasionally had moved on to greener pastures, and because he typically didn't believe in casual sex—too many crazies and too many diseases—he hadn't slept with a woman in months.

And the bizarre circumstances undoubtedly contributed to his behavior. The intimacy of the close quarters, and the highly sexual accidental encounters with Janine were enough to test any man's willpower. Plus, he had to admit, Janine was a looker with that curtain of blond hair and her too-blue eyes. He grunted when the image of her body reflected in that mirror came to mind. Worse still, the silky texture of her skin was still imprinted on his hands. And that kiss...

The woman was a paradox. One minute she struck him as an innocent, the next, a tease. One minute he was running to help her, the next, he was running to escape from her. He massaged his temples and filled his lungs with morning-sweet air. Gradually, his head cleared, and he was able to look at the situation logically. Even if he took Steve and the whole marriage variable out of the equation, Janine Murphy couldn't be more wrong for him or his way of life. She was messy, emotional and erratic. Fisting his hand, he pounded once on the railing with resolve, gratified by the slight echo of the iron vibrating and the dull pain that lingered in his hand. There was nothing like a little space and fresh air for perspective.

The sound of her raised voice inside the room caught his attention, and he turned back to the sliding glass door. Apprehensive, he opened the door and pushed aside the curtain, then stepped into the room.

Janine whirled mid-yell, her eyes huge. "Oh, there you are. I was worried." Then she gestured vaguely, and added, "I mean, I was afraid you might be feeling bad. Sick, I mean. Feeling sick."

He steeled himself against the quickening in his loins at the sight of her all bundled up in his clothes. He'd have to toss them on the Goodwill pile when he returned to Kentucky. Jerking a thumb behind him, he said, "I stepped out onto the balcony."

She looked past him. "There's a balcony behind all those curtains?"

"Not much of one," he admitted, "but I needed some air." He pressed his lips together, trying to slough off the remnants of their kiss. "I'm sorry—"

"I'm sorry—" she said at the same time. "—I had no business—"

"—I don't know what came over me—"

"—I mean, you and Steve—"

"—I'm getting married, after all—"

"—and I'm your Best Man—"

"—and you're my Best Man."

They stopped and she smiled. Begrudgingly, he returned a diluted version. He didn't know what her game was, or if she even had one, but he wasnothaving fun. "We're both under a lot of stress right now," he said. "Let's try to get through this quarantine without doing something we'll regret, okay?"

She nodded. "My sentiments exactly." Silence stretched like an elastic band between them, and she wrung her hands. "Are you hungry?" she asked, gesturing toward the desk. "Manny just delivered breakfast."

"Manny?"

"The general manager."

His stomach rumbled in response. "I could eat." Glad the initial awkwardness had passed, he crossed to the desk.

They lifted the lids from the trays to reveal eggs, sausage, bacon, pancakes, fruit, yogurt and miniature bagels.

"Nice," he murmured.

"And coffee," Janine said. "Excellent."

He pulled the straight-back chair over for Janine, then scooted the desk close enough to the bed for him to sit. Faced with the task of having to make conversation over their meal, he used the remote to turn up the television news station that appeared to be giving the quarantine good coverage, replaying the clip of the general manager and doctor every few minutes, and speculating on how long the guests would be confined.

But no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the television, he couldn't shake the almost tangible energy springing from the woman who sat across from him, eating a banana of all things. Man, was he hot for her. As soon as he finished eating, he was going to take a long, cold shower. "Do you always eat like a bird?" he asked, although the words came out a little more tersely than he'd planned.

She chewed slowly, then swallowed and licked those fabulous lips of hers. "I'm a vegetarian." Pointing a finger at his plate, she added, "You, on the other hand, are courting heart disease with all that cholesterol."

"I'm a big guy," he said, frowning. "I have big arteries."

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