"Oh, it's the people in the room below," Derek said, sounding exasperated. "They can't seem tobe still."
She stuck her tongue out at him.
"Anyway," Steve said, shifting foot to foot, "I need to look for Janine before we eat. The wedding is back on for this evening. Mother has already worked out the details with the hotel. A small miracle, I might add."
Janine swallowed a strangled cry. She needed a miracle, but that wasn't the one she'd had in mind.
"Kind of last minute, don't you think?" Derek asked, walking toward the door.
"My folks think it would make great press, so it'll be worth it, even if things aren't picture perfect. You have to ride the media wave when it breaks, man."
The door opened and Steve exited first. Derek stepped into the hall, then said, "Oh, I almost forgot. I need to make one more phone call. Why don't you wait for me in the lobby. Maybe you'll run into Janine."
"Good idea," Steve said. "Then the two of you can get to know each other a little better."
Janine closed her eyes, guilt clawing at her chest.
"Uh, yeah," Derek replied. "Give me about fifteen minutes." He walked back inside the room, then closed the door.
Dread enveloped her, a sensation that was beginning to feel alarmingly familiar. She inhaled too deeply, filling her nostrils with dust, then sneezed violently. Before she could recover,strong hands closed around her ankles, and she was sliding across the wooden floor, being pulled out feet first. When her head cleared the bed, she lay still, looking up at Derek who stood over her, hands on hips. "Gesundheit," he said, his expression unreadable.
* * *
DEREK WASshaken, although he tried to maintain a certain amount of decorum. The crazy thing was that even in the midst of the frenetic situation, his mind and body paused to register her incredible natural beauty, her pink mouth and blue, blue eyes, her pale braided hair in fuzzy disarray, and long slender limbs, sprawled ridiculously on the floor. He had actually deflowered this lovely creature, destined for the bed of another man. Derek wanted to throw something, but instead he winced and rubbed his eyes with forefinger and thumb.
"You really shouldn't do that."
He opened his eyes. "You really should’ve told me."
She wet her lips. "Would it have made a difference?"
"Yes,” he ground out. He wouldn't have touched her. He ran his hand through his hair, still unable to believe the turn of events. Okay, maybe he would’ve touched her, but he would’ve taken his time, would’ve tried to make the experience more special for her, which was probably what her fiancé had been planning to do. Remorse racked his chest.
"Yes," he repeated more gently. He leaned over and extended his hand, then eased her to her feet.
"Derek, I can't imagine what you must think of me—"
He stopped her by touching his finger to her full lower lip. "I think we were both a little out of sorts—the proximity, the quarantine, the stress. What happened, happened."
Misery swam in her eyes. "But Steve..."
"Doesn't ever have to know," Derek insisted.
"You're right," she said, nodding. "Telling him would serve no purpose, and I don't want to come between your friendship."
He considered telling her they weren't as close as she might think, but doing so would only confuse the issue. "Good, then we have a pact?"
"Yes," she said with a whisper of a smile.
"And you and Steve will work things out?"
"I'm not sure that—"
"You will," he assured her, forcing cheer. He clasped her shoulders in what he'd intended to be a friendly gesture but dropped his hands when the compulsion to kiss her became too great. "You've got a few minutes to get your things together and out of here," he said as he crossed to the door.
"Derek." She swallowed hard and looked as if she might say something, then averted her eyes and murmured, "I don't have much to get together."
He couldn't resist teasing her one last time. "A certain pink number comes to mind."