Page 56 of About Last Night

"The subconscious can be a powerful force." He splayed one hand. "Did you lose the ring before or after you decided you weren't going to marry Mr. Larsen?"

"After," she said miserably.

He lifted his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. "Just a thought," he said, then steered her back toward the side entrance.

"What am I going to do?" she asked, blinking back a new wellspring of tears.

"Search the room again," he told her. "And I promise I'll come out myself first thing in the morning with a rake." He smiled, his blue eyes kind. "I might even be able to scare up a metal detector."

"You're the best," she said, giving him a hug.

"So I've heard," he said with a boyish grin. "Try to get some sleep, okay?"

* * *

SATURDAY 3AM

FAT CHANCE, she thought hours later, staring at the bedside clock until it ticked away another thirty minutes. Her tear ducts were swollen and dry. Three o'clock in the morning on what was supposed to be her wedding day, and she lay awake, stiff and sore from the lovemaking of the man sleeping on the floor.

Who just happenednotto be her fiancé.

But someone who'd become important to her in a shamefully short amount of time. She laughed aloud, but the velvety darkness of the room muffled the noise.

Today she would call Steve and tell him she couldn't marry him, a thought that saddened her. Even though she didn't love him, she was fond of him and his family, and she would always admire his proficiency on the job. She would miss him, along with the promise of a luxurious, if conservative, life.

She sighed. Then after breaking their engagement, she would offer Steve her car, her sole Coach purse and her right arm as adown payment on the lost ring. Now that she thought about it, a hairdresser had once told her he'd give her five hundred dollars for her hair, down to the scalp... Her mother would get used to it eventually. And she could sell her blood every six weeks at the clinic—nobody needed a full ten pints.

Derek murmured something in his sleep. She lifted her head in his direction and saw the pale sheet over him move as he rolled to face her, still sound asleep. Her stomach pitched and rolled when she replayed their passionate encounter in her head. Neither she nor Derek had broached the subject of their lovemaking when she returned from her fruitless search. He'd helped her turn the room upside down but remained stoic as they stripped the bed and checked underneath. Obviously, the act had been little more than an enjoyable tumble for him, and now he was racked with guilt.

Janine's mouth tightened. He would never know how much their lovemaking had meant to her, not if she could help it. This little triangle she'd created had enough inherent problems without throwing love into the mix.

Love?

Suddenly, the metallic whine of the air conditioner roared in her ears, and the walls seemed to converge on her in the dark. Janine clutched at her chest and gasped for breath, succumbing to a full-fledged panic attack. And why not? she asked herself, grabbing a fistful of sheet. Never before in her life had she had so many good reasons to panic.

"Relax, Janine."

Derek's voice floated to her, and she realized he was sitting on the bed, holding her hand. "Take shallow breaths and exhale through your mouth slowly. Close your eyes," he ordered gently, and she obeyed.

"Now breathe, and think about something that makes you happy," he said as if speaking to a child.

His suggestion fell flat, however, because his face kept floating behind her eyelids. She tried to focus, but his touching was so much more appealing.

"Tell me," he said. "Tell me the things that make you happy."

The concerned note in his voice sent warmth circulating through her chest, making her feel safe. "Peppermint ice cream," she whispered.

The low rumble of his laugh floated around her head. "What else?"

"Red hats... old books... polka music... cotton sheets..."

"Breathe," he reminded her. "Go on."

"Daisies... jawbreakers... bowling... brown eyes..."

* * *

DEREK'S OWNbreath caught in his chest. Did she likehisbrown eyes? His chest ached with the agony of not discussing their impromptu lovemaking. On one hand, he felt compelled to tell her the sex had been a profound experience for him, but on the other hand, she was on the rebound from an engagement to a friend of his, undoubtedly consumed with guilt over sleeping with himandlosing her priceless engagement ring. For all he knew, the flighty woman might manufacture a story about the ring being stolen and marry Steve after all. He'd be a fool to reveal any of his disturbing feelings to her now, under such volatile circumstances.

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