Page 49 of About Last Night

The anchorwoman came on-screen. "Stay with us for continuing coverage of 'The Quarantine Crisis.'" A menacing bass throbbed in the background as the news faded to a commercial.

A knock sounded on the door, kicking up Janine's pulse. In two long strides, Derek reached the door and stooped to look through the keyhole. "It's Dr. Pedro," he said, then stepped back and swung open the door.

"Mr. Stillman, you requested another examination?"

Derek looked in her direction, then back to the doctor.

"Janine seems to think I might be suffering from allergies instead of an infection."

Dr. Pedro walked inside and set his bag on the foot of the bed. "Well, let's take a look, shall we?"

She knew she should stay and find out as much about the status of the quarantine as possible, but Janine swept the items Manny had brought her into the shopping bag and escaped to the bathroom to think. She closed the door and dumped the contents of the bag onto the counter, then dropped to the vanity stool, sorting toiletries from souvenir clothes. Bless Manny's heart. In addition to necessities, he'd brought her a single tube of pink lipstick, a nice quality hairbrush and a package of simple cotton underwear.

When the items had been stacked, folded and stored away, Janine sighed and stared at herself in the mirror. Her fingers jumped and twitched involuntarily. Nerves, she knew. Entwining her fingers, she stretched them out and away from her, the first time she'd ever felt compelled to crack her knuckles. One knuckle popped faintly, shooting pain up her hand, and the other fingers emitted a dull crunching sound, which made her a bit light-headed.

She'd never been so scared in her life, but not of the contagion.

Nothing was more terrifying than thinking you knew yourself, only to discover an alien had invaded your body and mind. The real Janine Murphy wouldn't be second-guessing her marriage to one of the most eligible men in Atlanta. The real Janine Murphy wouldn't be entertaining kisses from a strange man and allowing his presence to drive her to distraction. The real Janine Murphy wouldn't be lying to practically everyone she knew about her humiliating circumstances.

She squinted, hoping to find answers to her troubling questions somewhere behind her eyes, and found one.

The real Janine Murphy wouldn't be lying to herself.

When she'd seen Steve on the television screen, she'd witnessed a polished, self-absorbed man putting on a show for the cameras. Not a single time during Steve's interview had he even mentioned her name, referring to her instead asMrs. Steven Larsen.Granted, his defensive reaction on the phone to her clumsy attempt at intimacy had left a bad taste in her mouth, but she was starting to recognize a disturbing pattern in his behavior that she hadn't seen before—or rather, hadn't wanted to see.

Steve was more interested in her state of womanhood than in her as a woman. For his family name. For his father's reputation. And for his own deep-seated beliefs about a woman's virtue being her worth. None of which boded well for marital happiness.

From the other room, she heard the sound of the door closing. Dr. Pedro had left, which meant that once again she was alone with Derek. Alone for—how had he put it?—for God only knows how long.

She'd have to be dense not to recognize the sexual pull between them. Marie had been telling her stories about electric chemistry, tingly insides and throbbing outsides since they were teenagers, but this was the first time Janine had experienced how a physical attraction could override a person's otherwise good judgment.

A bitter laugh escaped her. Override? More like trample.

Her shoulders sagged with resignation because, in the midst of her general confusion, one conclusion suddenly seemed crystal clear: she simply couldn't marry Steve, at least not the way things were between them, and not the way things were between her and Derek, even if it was only in her mind.

Regardless of her enigmatic feelings, she wasn't about to drag Derek into the melee. After all, he and Steve were friends longbefore she came into the picture. Besides, Derek would probably laugh at the notion of her putting so much stock in her physical attraction to him. It was different for men, she realized, but she couldn't help her strong, if quaint, tendency to associate sex with deep emotional feelings. Which was precisely why she found her reaction to Derek so disturbing. If she were truly in love with Steve, she wouldn't have been tempted by Derek's kisses.

Would she?

She heard the room door open and close again and wondered briefly if Derek had left to try to set things straight with Maureen.

A faint rap sounded at the bathroom door. "Janine, our lunch is here."

The split second of relief that he hadn't left the room was squelched by the realization that the sound of his voice had become so, so... welcome. Resolved to be cool and casual, despite her recent revelations, she pushed to her feet. "Coming."

She walked into the bedroom, but Derek didn't look up as he took the covers off their food. "Steak sandwiches," he said. "Are you hungry?"

She nodded and studied him under her lashes as she accepted a plate. From the sandwich she picked off the slice of tomato and put it to the side. She noticed Derek did the same with the pickle spear.

"Trade you my tomato for your pickle," she offered. Too late, she realized how sexually charged the simple request sounded.

Derek's mouth quirked. "Deal. My pickle for your tomato."

They traded the items in slow motion. Janine's "tomato" practically tingled as she bit off the end of the pickle spear. Derek's Adam's apple bobbed. Gone was the easy camaraderie they had adopted during their card game. In its place was a palpable, undeniable attraction.

Janine threw herself into eating the sandwich and noticed Derek had done the same. They made frequent eye contact as they ate quickly, and with gusto, making little noises of appreciation. Afterward, then leaned back in their chairs, sighing in satisfaction, completely spent.

Yet still hungry for each other.

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