Chapter 15

DEREK'S THROAT convulsed. "You lost your engagement ring?"

Janine burst into fresh tears and leaned on the railing.

"I noticed it was missing," he said lightly, "but I just assumed you'd taken it off on purpose."

"When?" she asked, grasping his arm. "When did you notice it was missing?"

Derek cleared his throat. "When we were, um, in bed."

She tore back into the room, and he followed, then stood back as she skimmed her hands across the top of the comforter, then stripped it from the bed and shook it violently.

"Do you see it?" she asked.

He shook his head, guilt galloping through his chest. "Don't worry, we'll find it. You check that side of the room, and I'll start over here."

Janine nodded, emitting a little hiccup, then fell to her knees, patting the parquet floor. Feeling absurdly responsible, he started looking in the opposite corner, patting small areas before moving on. Thirty minutes later, they bumped behinds in the middle, both empty-handed.

"It'll turn up somewhere," he assured her.

"Yeah," she said. "In a pawnshop." Sitting back on her heels, Janine covered her face with her hands. A bitter laugh erupted from her throat. An hour ago she was thinking that telling Steve she couldn't marry him would be difficult. Now she'd be able to top that tidbit by confessing she'd also lost his grandmother's heirloom ring. The only silver lining was that the ring was a distraction from her revelations concerning Derek.

A knock on the door startled her so badly, she jumped. Derek yanked up his jeans and shirt and headed back to the bathroom. Janine dragged herself to the door, but her spirits rose when she saw Manny through the peephole. She swung open the door. "Oh, Manny, thank goodness you're here!"

He held up a roll of gauze. "Is someone in trouble?"

"Big time," she said. She took the gauze, then tossed it on the bed. Janine stepped into the hall, keeping the door barely cracked. She struggled to keep her voice level. "I have to go outside."

Manny sighed. "Janine, I know you're claustrophobic, but—"

"Not because I'm claustrophobic! I dropped something off the balcony, and I have to find it right away."

He held up his radio. "What is it? I'll call a guard to look for it."

"No! I can't risk someone finding it and keeping it."

"What did you drop?"

She puffed out her cheeks, then held up her left hand and wiggled her ring finger.

His eyes bulged. "Your engagement ring?"

She winced and nodded.

His eyes narrowed. "I'm not getting a good feeling about this."

"You can sneak me out and I'll find my ring, then you can sneak me back in, and no one will be the wiser." She clapped her hands together under her chin, sniffing back tears.

"Janine, no one is supposed to leave the premises."

"I won't be leaving the premises, I'll just be under the balcony!"

He angled his head at her. "This isn't another pitiful attempt at escape, is it?"

"Cross my heart."

"The most sacred of vows," he noted dryly, but he was wavering.

"Manny, I'm not going to marry Steve Larsen."

His eyes bulged even wider.

"Besides the fact that I don't have enough money to pay for the ring, it's an heirloom. Irreplaceable." She adopted a pleading expression. "Please help me."

At last he sighed. "Okay, but let me do all the talking."

Hope soared in her chest. "You won't regret it."

He shot her a disbelieving look, but a half hour and a half-dozen lies later, they slipped out the side entrance. Flashlight in hand, her feet swimming in a pair of Derek's canvas lace-up tennis shoes, they made their way to the area beneath the balcony—easy to locate since her yellow flip-flop fairly glowed in the moonlight.

"What the heck were you doing up there?" Manny asked, holding up the sandal.

Instead of answering, she snatched the shoe.

"Oh," he said, the solitary word saying it all.

"We' re looking for a ring, " she reminded him, shining her flashlight over the grass.

"Is this yours, too?" He held up the half-empty bottle of water.

She nodded.

A few minutes later he asked, "And this?" The napkin she'd wrapped around Derek's hand waved in the breeze. The honey butter smelled pungent and had left some odd-looking stains on the cloth.

She gave him a tight smile, then took the napkin from him and tucked it in the waistband of her—make that Derek's— sweatpants.

He harrumphed. "I'm not touching anything else I find unless it's fourteen-carat gold."

"The ring is platinum," she corrected him.

He let out an impressive, sad whistle. "Well, we'd better split up and cover this area systematically. I'll start here and go to the tree, then back to the wall."

With her heart thumping and her fingers crossed, Janine started crisscrossing the area opposite Manny. Taking baby steps in her huge shoes, she stared at the beam of light until her eyeballs felt raw. After only a short while, her neck and shoulders ached. "Manny, have you found it?"

"Yeah, Janine, I found the ring ten minutes ago, but I just like walking humped over in the dark."

She smiled ruefully. A paper clip, then a foil candy wrapper raised and dashed her hopes. After an hour, she was blinking back tears. Manny came over to stand next to her, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nothing. Are you sure it fell off your finger when you were on the balcony?"

"I think it did."

He pursed his lips. "You think it did? I have two mosquito welts on my face the size of Stone Mountain, and you think it did?"

"Well, we couldn't find it in the room, so I just assumed... I mean, we dropped so many things—"

He held up one hand. "I get the picture." Manny shook his head, and chuckled. "Wow, when you mess things up, you mess them up in a big way."

"Well, it's not like I lost the ring on purpose."

"Maybe not consciously."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

" Something, " she prompted.

"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 happened not to 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 a down 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 OWN breath caught in his chest. Did she like his brown 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 him and losing 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.

He realized her breathing had returned to normal and, eyes closed, she looked like a resting child. Her beauty seemed boundless. The more time he spent with her, the more expressions and mannerisms she revealed, each uniquely Janine, and each riveting. The woman was incredible, and he hoped Steve was smart enough to fight for her love. He hated himself for submitting to his desire for her, for taking advantage of her vulnerability during prewedding jitters. In doing so, he prayed he hadn't jeopardized her chance for happiness.

He started to withdraw his hand, but Janine's fingers closed around his, and her eyes fluttered open. "Stay with me."

Even though everything logical in him shouted not to, he stretched out beside her, careful to leave a few inches between them. Janine turned on her side away from him, then scooted back until they were touching from shoulder to knee. Instinctively, he rolled to his side and spooned her small body against his. A foreign, not completely uncomfortable heat filled his chest, and he suddenly couldn't pull her close enough. She wore a short T-shirt rucked up to her waist, revealing plain white cotton panties. His body responded immediately.

No matter, he thought. She was breathing deeply, probably already asleep and oblivious to his state. He reached up and smoothed the hair back from her face, studying her profile, wishing he knew what made her tick. Unexpectedly, she pressed her rump back against his arousal, and he bit back a groan. Was she merely moving in her sleep, or urging him to intimacy? Janine reached her hand back to hook around his thigh and pulled him so that his sex nestled against hers, settling the question.

Derek buried his face in her hair, then kissed her neck while sliding his hand beneath her shirt to caress her stomach and tuck her body even closer to his. By spreading his fingers, he stroked her breasts, gently tweaking each nipple. He cupped a handful of her firm flesh, rasping his desire for her in her ear. She responded by sliding her hand back and tugging on the waistband of his boxers. He lifted himself just enough to skim the underwear down his legs, then kicked them away. Freed, his erection sought the heat between her thighs, straining against the firm cheeks of her buttocks.

She had shed her T-shirt. With a slide of her hand and a teeth-grating wiggle, the thin panties were pushed down to her knees. Derek throbbed to be inside her but rolled away long enough to secure a condom. Spooning her close to him again, he reached around to delve into the curls at the apex of her thighs, which were already wet. With great restraint, he inserted only the tip of his bulging erection into her slick channel from behind and plied her nub of pleasure until she writhed in his arms, moaning his name. On the verge of climax himself, he slid into her fully, thrilling in the extra pressure of their position. Sheer concentration helped him maintain control for several long, slow strokes, then the life fluid burst from him with a force equal to that of a man who might never get to indulge in such sweetness again.

Indeed, Derek thought as his breathing returned to normal, he would never again make love to Janine. He would go back to Kentucky, immerse himself in his work and leave Janine and Steve to work through their problems. Once Steve had singled out a woman to make her his wife, Derek knew he wouldn't easily let her go. The panicky thought sprang to his mind that Janine might be using him to get back at Steve in some way. His stomach twisted. He suspected that Steve was unfaithful to Janine—did she as well?

She sighed and settled back against his chest. With his head full of troubled thoughts and his lungs full of the scent of her hair, he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

SATURDAY 7AM

JANINE STARTED awake, disoriented, but was disturbingly relieved to see Derek's face in the morning light.

"Janine," he whispered, his tone urgent. "Wake up."

"What's wrong?" she asked, looping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

"Shh." He pulled away her hands and flung back the covers, sending a chill over her naked body. "Janine, sweetheart, you have to get up. Now. "

"Why?" she asked, sitting up grudgingly, wincing at her sore muscles.

An impatient knock sounded at the door, apparently not the first.

"Because," he said, pulling on his underwear, his lowered voice tinged with warning. "Steve's here."