Page 31 of About Last Night

He returned her smile, which made her heart lurch crazily. "Glad to pinch-hit for Steve," he said. Then his smile evaporated, and he added, "In that one particular instance."

At the mention of Steve's name, she relaxed, feeling firmly back on platonic footing. "Thanks, too, for the clothes. You're a lifesaver." Impulsively, she leaned forward and dropped a quick kiss on his cheek. Janine realized her mistake the second she drew away. Derek's mocha-colored eyes had grown glazed and heavy-lidded. The worry lines had fled, and his lips were open in silent invitation. Blatant desire chased reason from her mind. Acting purely on instinct, she lowered her lips to his for an experimental kiss. Just one, she promised herself. One last illicit kiss for comparison.

If indeed he hesitated, it wasn't for more than a heartbeat. His lips opened to welcome hers, and the tide of longing that swept over her left her breathless. Their tongues darted, danced and dueled in a coming together that could be described as anythingbutplatonic.

Her knees weakened and she became aware that his hands were at her waist, and her arms around his neck. His taste was as foreign and delicious as exotic fruit, and she wanted to draw more of him into her mouth. Derek angled his head to deepen the kiss and she moaned in gratitude. Pulling her forward, he melded her body to his, and she was conscious of his hands sliding beneath her shirt. He splayed his hands over her shoulder blades, kneading her skin with his strong fingers in long, determined caresses that gave her a glimpse into his body rhythm.

She shivered and might have buckled had he not imprisoned her legs with his knees. Janine reveled in the strength and possession of his touch. She arched her back and rolled her shoulders, then slipped her hands inside his shirt and ran her hands over the smooth expanse of his back, kneading the firm muscle. His guttural sounds propelled her excitement to the highest plateau she'd ever endured. The world fell away around them, and Janine felt completely, utterly safe. She pressed herbody against his, sure in the knowledge that he could fuel the flames licking at her body to an all-consuming fire, much more satisfying than her earlier release.

When he stiffened, her first instinct was to resist, but when she heard the knock at the door, she straightened and stepped back, disentangling herself from him. The look he gave her still smoldered from their heated kiss, but he wore his remorse just as plainly.

The full extent of her shameful participation flooded over her. She backed away and clapped a hand over her traitorous mouth, sucking air against her fingers to fill her quivering lungs. If her skin hadn't still burned from his touch, she might not have believed what had just transpired. Regret nearly paralyzed her. What had she done? What had she nearly allowed Derek to do?

He was watching her. She stared at him, at the body she could now call familiar, but she didn't know what to say. Janine suspected, however, that her face reflected her horror at her own behavior.

Another knock sounded at the door. Derek panned his hand over his face, then stood, visibly trying to shake off the effects of their encounter. Her gaze flew to the telltale bulge in his pants that he didn't attempt to hide as he limped a half circle in the room. Hair tousled, shirt askew, and hard for her... Derek Stillman was simply the most devastatingly appealing man she'd ever met. Best Man, she corrected. Steve's Best Man. She might as well run headlong into a train tunnel while the whistle sounded in her ears.

Realizing Derek was in no shape to answer the door, she cleared her throat and murmured, "I'll see who it is."

"Thanks," he said over his shoulder, his big hands riding his hips as he headed toward the bathroom.

Still reeling, she walked to the door and, through the peephole, saw the general manager standing in the hall, sportinga mask over his nose and mouth. Shot with relief without really knowing why, she swung open the door. "Hello, Mr. Oliver."

A cart loaded with great-smelling covered trays flanked him. He took in her ill-fitting garb with only a blink and a smile. "Call me Manny, Ms. Murphy."

She felt warmed by the friendly tone in his voice. "Then call me Janine."

The blond man nodded. "Glad to see you're still with us. How are you feeling?"

Shoving a fall of hair away from her face, she pulled a smile from nowhere to hide her shaky emotions. "F-fine."

His penetrating blue gaze seemed all-knowing, but he didn't contradict her. "Mr. Stillman said this morning you had no symptoms."

"That depends—is irrational behavior a symptom?"

"I don't recall, but I can mention it to the doctor."

She sighed. "Don't bother, I'm fine."

His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't skip a beat. "Good. I've brought breakfast, not a typical resort meal, I can assure you, since our chefs didn't prepare the food, but not bad if you're hungry."

"I am… we are."

The door across the hall opened and Maureen Jiles stepped out, perfectly coifed and wrapped in a coral-colored silk robe. "I heard voices."

At eight o'clock in the morning, the woman was stunning. Janine inclined her head politely. "Maureen Jiles, this is Manny Oliver, the general manager."

He smiled. "I'm delivering breakfast, Ms. Jiles."

"Something low-carb, I hope," she said in a voice reserved for lowly help.

"We have a keto option," Manny replied smoothly.

"That will do," she said, then turned back to Janine. "Is your friend Derek up and about?"

Is he ever."Um, yes."

Maureen appeared to be chewing on her tongue as her face slowly erupted into a mischievous smile. "I love a good challenge, and I decided I'm not going to let his being gay get in the way."

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