Chapter 10

THANK GOODNESS the 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— Janine so 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 was not having 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."

* * *

AS IF she hadn't noticed he was big when they were grinding against each other, Janine thought, practically choking on her last bite of banana. Personally, she liked the way he ate, with a gusto that said he was a man who appreciated food, and lots of it. It suited him, the bigness, the heartiness, and hinted of other things he probably did with barely restrained energy. She averted her eyes from his hands and cleared her throat. "I remember Steve mentioning a friend of his who was a college football star. Was that you?"

Derek scoffed good-naturedly. "I played for UK, but Steve was probably referring to Jack. He was the star receiver. I was on special teams, not nearly as flashy a position."

She knew enough about football to know Derek spoke the truth about unsung positions on the field. "If you don't mind me asking, where is your brother Jack?"

He swallowed, then drank deeply of the black coffee in his cup. "I have no idea," he said finally, in a tone that said he was accustomed to his brother's absence.

"Did he just... disappear?"

A nod, then, "Pretty much. He tends to drop out of sight when a crisis occurs at the office."

She hadn't even asked Derek what he did for a living. "The office?"

"Jack and I own an advertising agency in Lexington."

Janine tried to hide her surprise but must have failed miserably because he laughed. "Actually, my father started the company, but I went to work there after I graduated. Then when Dad up and died on me a few years ago, I persuaded Jack to help me run things."

Her heart squeezed because she detected true affection in his voice when he mentioned his father. "I'm sorry for your loss, Derek. Is your mother still living?"

A broad smile lit his face, transforming his features to roundness and light. "Absolutely. She still lives in the home where I was raised. I built a duplex for myself and Jack a few miles away so we could keep an eye on her."

"And so you could keep an eye on Jack?"

After a brief hesitation, he nodded, then grunted. "But he still manages to slip away."

She sensed his frustration with his brother, who sounded like a rake. Derek's few words gave her insight into his life, and she pictured two boys growing up, the older, more serious sibling burdened with the responsibility of looking out for the younger, more unpredictable one. It sounded as if the mischievous Jack had led a charmed life at his brother's expense. "How long since you've heard from him?"

Derek scooped in another forkful of eggs, then squinted at the ceiling. "Two months? Yeah, it was right around tax time."

"And he's done this before?"

He nodded. "But he always comes back."

Intrigued by their obviously close yet adversarial relationship, she said, "And you always welcome him back."

Contrary to the response she expected, his mouth turned down and he shook his head. "Not this time, I don't think. He's been gone too long, and I'm tired of working eighty hours a week to cover for him."

"You're going to hire someone to take his place?"

Derek balled up a paper napkin and dropped it on his empty plate. "Depending on whether or not I land the account I'm working on, I might not have to worry about hiring anyone." His voice was calm, but a crease between his dark eyebrows betrayed his concern.

She set down her bottle of water. "You might close the family firm?"

He splayed his large hands. "I might have no choice. I've always managed the accounts, the scheduling, and supervised the day-to-day operations, but my father and Jack were the creative minds, and the artists." He smiled. "I can only do so much with stock art."

"Can't you simply hire another artist?"

"Not and continue to pay Jack."

"But why would you continue to pay Jack?"

"A promise to my father," he said simply, and her opinion of him catapulted. A man of his word—make that a poor man of his word.

"But how can Jack collect his paycheck if he's not around?"

"My mother keeps it for him and pays all his bills—his utilities, his health club membership—just as if he's going to walk back in the door tomorrow." He didn't seem bitter, just resigned.

A mother who doted on her prodigal son, Janine thought. Loath to state the obvious, but unable to help herself, Janine said, "It doesn't seem fair that you would have to sacrifice your livelihood because of your brother's selfishness."

He shrugged, moving mounds of muscle. "Life isn't fair. I'll be fine. I'm just glad I don't have a family to provide for." He pointed to her left hand. "I guess Steve doesn't have to worry about those kinds of things."

She glanced down at her engagement ring, the diamonds huge and lustrous. Funny, but as beautiful as the heirloom was, she would've preferred that Steve give her something smaller, a ring he'd bought for her himself. Or one they'd purchased together. If truth be known, she was still in awe of Steve's family's money, and not entirely comfortable with the concept of being rich. Sure, Steve had worked hard to get through medical school, but a trust fund had covered his expenses, so when he completed his residency, he hadn't faced the enormous loans like most med students. And herself.

Steve lived in a nice home in Midtown, a very hip area. When they married, he would pay off her school loans, and their lives would be filled with relative luxury, as would their children's.

Assuming they actually had sex and conceived children, that is.

"Steve always insisted on the very best," Derek said, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

Was he referring to the ring, she wondered, or to her? Warmth flooded her face. "I suppose I should call him and let him know what's going on," she said, then glanced up quickly. "Well, n-not everything that's going on."

One of his dark eyebrows arched as he sipped from the cup dwarfed by his fingers. "Nothing is going on," he said mildly.

"Right," she said, standing abruptly. "Absolutely nothing. Which is what I'll tell him—that absolutely nothing is going on."

He pursed his mouth. "He has no reason to think otherwise."

"You're right," she said, walking to the phone. "After all, he thinks I'm staying with... what exactly did you tell him?"

"That you were staying with the medical personnel."

"Oh, right. Did Steve say he'd be at home? He took a few days off work for the wedding."

"He said he'd be at his parents'."

Janine exhaled, puffing out her cheeks. "I might as well get this over with." She punched in the number, and just as she expected, his mother answered the phone.

"Lilah, this is Janine."

"Janine! Well, isn't this the most perfectly horrible mess? I have every TV in the house on watching for news of the quarantine, and Lance is calling a friend of his at the CDC to arrange for you to be released immediately."

Janine tamped down resentment that the Larsens believed every situation could be corrected by pulling in favors. "I appreciate Lance's efforts, but since I've been directly exposed to the illness, I seriously doubt they'll make an exception."

Her future mother-in-law pshawed. "You'll learn soon how many doors the name Larsen will open for you in this town, my dear. Just let Lance handle everything. And you're not really in a position to argue, are you?"

Janine frowned. "What do you mean?"

"If you hadn't gone to the hotel, we could've moved the wedding to the club. If we can get you out by noon, we might still be able to make it work. By the way," she said, her tone suspicious, "why did you go to the resort?"

"To, um... to talk to Steve." Her prim-and-proper future mother-in-law was the last person she'd share her marital concerns with, especially since she was certain Steve had been conceived by immaculate conception. "Is Steve there?"

"Yes, I'll call him to the phone."

As the woman trilled in the background, Janine's heart banged against her ribs. She heard the indistinct rumble of Steve's voice, then, "Janine?"

"Hi," she said, alarmed that his voice did not overwhelm her with the comfort she craved.

"Are you calling from the hotel?"

"Yes. The quarantine hasn't been lifted yet." A nerve rash pricked at the skin on her chest.

"I guess Derek told you I called earlier this morning."

"Um, yes." She glanced in her roommate's direction. He'd risen quietly and was moving toward the bathroom, to give her privacy, no doubt. "Did you have a good time last night?"

"Sure. Just guy stuff, you know."

She fought her rising anger. Had he spent all night watching strippers when he wouldn't even spend one meaningful night with her?

"But I know your party was rather spirited," he teased.

Janine frowned. "How could you know?"

He hesitated for a split second, then said, "Since Marie organized it, I don't have to stretch my imagination."

She smiled in concession. "Well, it was innocent fun. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves."

"Janine," Steve said, lowering his voice. She could picture him turning his back to shield his voice from eavesdroppers. "What made you go to the resort in the first place?"

She bit into her lip and glanced toward the bathroom. Derek had turned on the shower. The moment of truth had come, because Steve would never buy the story of her simply wanting to talk. "I thought it was time, Steve."

"Time for what?" His voice rose even higher.

Allowing the silence to speak for her, she sat on the bed and waited for realization to dawn.

"To sleep together?" he hissed.

Janine closed her eyes, since his incredulity was not a good sign. "Yes."

"Janine, we've talked about this—you know how I feel. I want to wait until we're married, and I thought you did, too."

"But Steve, if we're getting married tomorrow, why would one or two nights make a difference?"

"It does," he insisted, sounding as if he was gritting his teeth. "I thought you were a good girl, Janine. Don't disappoint me now."

Warning bells sounded in her ears. "A good girl? What's that supposed to mean?"

He sighed, clearly agitated. "You know what I mean. Someone who will do the family name proud."

She was stunned into silence. Panic clawed at her.

"Janine?"

He hadn't said anything about love, respect or honor. Did he simply want a virgin to take on the good family name of Larsen? A lump lodged in her throat at her own gullibility.

"Janine?" Desperation laced his voice. "Janine, honey, you know I love you. By waiting until our honeymoon, I thought I was doing the honorable thing."

But she heard his words through a haze. The honorable thing—but for an honorable reason? Nausea rolled in her stomach. "Steve, I... I have to go."

"Dad will get you out of there soon," he said. "Then we can talk."

"Yes," she murmured. "We do need to talk, Steve."

"I'll call you after Dad makes the necessary phone calls," he said, back to his congenial self, their disagreement already smoothed over in his mind. "What room are you staying in?"

"Um, the health club has been turned into an infirmary," she replied truthfully, but evasively. "But it's a madhouse. If you need to talk to me, call and ask for the general manager, Manny Oliver. He knows how to reach me."

The shower in the next room shut off, and Derek's tuneless whistle reached her ears. She closed her eyes against the sexual pull leaking through the keyhole. Not now.

"Oh, and Janine, check in on Derek when you can," Steve said. "I feel better just knowing the two of you are there together."