mulling
over the events of the past—she checked her watch— three hours? Geez, it seemed a lifetime had passed since she and Marie
were in her bedroom, joking, planning her sexy adventure.
Whatever happens, Janine, this night could determine the direction of the rest of your life.
Janine sighed again. She'd always had a terrible sense of direction.
Numbly, she turned and faced the door, her mind reeling. She couldn't bring herself to go in because even after everything
that had happened, she had the strangest feeling that things would only get worse before they got better. She wasn't sure how
long she'd stood there before a security guard came by and asked that she return to her room to keep the hallways clear.
She nodded and inserted the key, then opened the door and walked inside. Derek stood by the phone with a towel around his
hips, his skin glistening, his hair wet and smoothed back. Her pulse kicked up in appreciation, but she acknowledged that her
body was so shell-shocked, it no longer knew how to respond appropriately. She was suddenly so tired, she wanted to drop on
the spot and curl into a fetal position.
Derek looked up and held the phone out to her. "It's for you."
"At three o'clock in the morning? Who is it?" she asked wearily, taking the handset, thinking Marie had tracked her down for
more details.
He shrugged and stretched out on the bed, still wearing the towel. "She says she's your mother."
6
« ^ »
D erek had heard of being too tired to sleep, but he thought he might have reached the point where he was too tired even to
breathe. He lay still on the bed, eyes closed, waiting for a burst of energy that would allow his lungs to expand. Meanwhile, he
listened to the perpetually frazzled Janine murmur and moan and otherwise fret up her nerve to speak to her mother.
Unfortunately for him, hearing was the only one of five senses that required no energy whatsoever.
"Mom?" Her voice squeaked like a cartoon character's. "I'm fine—yes, I'm sure. I just walked back into the room. Uh-huh."
She must have a decent relationship with her mother, he noted, else she wouldn't be so eager to reassure her.
"How did you know I was here? Oh, I forgot about your police scanner. You called Marie? And she told you I was here. Ah.
Hmm? Yes, we're definitely under a quarantine." She cleared her throat. "Yes, we might have to consider p-postponing the
wedding."
A staticy screech sounded through the phone. He opened one eye to find her holding the handset away from her ear. When the
noise subsided, she pulled it closer. "Mom, I said 'might.' I'll know more in a few hours. Right now I really need to go to bed."
An unfocused thrill rumbled through his beleaguered body at her words—a base reaction to a woman's voice, he reasoned.
Any woman's voice.
Her gaze lowered to meet his, and she blanched. "I m-mean, I really need to get some rest, Mom. Not necessarily in bed. A
person doesn't have to be in bed in order to rest. Hmm?" Her eyes darted around. "The man who answered?"
He might have laughed at her predicament if he'd had the energy. As it was, he was having trouble keeping the one eyelid
half-open.
She was staring at him, chewing on her lower lip. "That was, um, the, um…"
"Best man?" he prompted, barely moving his lips.
She scowled and turned her back. "That was the … be—ll man. Yes, the bellman."
He wondered briefly what the bellman's job paid and how it compared to advertising.
"Why am I here?" Another fake laugh, except this one sounded a tad hysterical. "I'll tell you all about it later, okay?" She bent
over, still talking as she moved the handset closer to the receiver. "Good night, Mom. Okay … okay … okay … bye." She
jammed the phone home with a sigh, now the only sound in the room the faint whir of the air conditioner, which he'd turned up.
He closed his one eye. Man, was it hot down here in Atlanta.
"I assume you requested a cot."
His eyes flew open at the accusing
over the events of the past—she checked her watch— three hours? Geez, it seemed a lifetime had passed since she and Marie
were in her bedroom, joking, planning her sexy adventure.
Whatever happens, Janine, this night could determine the direction of the rest of your life.
Janine sighed again. She'd always had a terrible sense of direction.
Numbly, she turned and faced the door, her mind reeling. She couldn't bring herself to go in because even after everything
that had happened, she had the strangest feeling that things would only get worse before they got better. She wasn't sure how
long she'd stood there before a security guard came by and asked that she return to her room to keep the hallways clear.
She nodded and inserted the key, then opened the door and walked inside. Derek stood by the phone with a towel around his
hips, his skin glistening, his hair wet and smoothed back. Her pulse kicked up in appreciation, but she acknowledged that her
body was so shell-shocked, it no longer knew how to respond appropriately. She was suddenly so tired, she wanted to drop on
the spot and curl into a fetal position.
Derek looked up and held the phone out to her. "It's for you."
"At three o'clock in the morning? Who is it?" she asked wearily, taking the handset, thinking Marie had tracked her down for
more details.
He shrugged and stretched out on the bed, still wearing the towel. "She says she's your mother."
6
« ^ »
D erek had heard of being too tired to sleep, but he thought he might have reached the point where he was too tired even to
breathe. He lay still on the bed, eyes closed, waiting for a burst of energy that would allow his lungs to expand. Meanwhile, he
listened to the perpetually frazzled Janine murmur and moan and otherwise fret up her nerve to speak to her mother.
Unfortunately for him, hearing was the only one of five senses that required no energy whatsoever.
"Mom?" Her voice squeaked like a cartoon character's. "I'm fine—yes, I'm sure. I just walked back into the room. Uh-huh."
She must have a decent relationship with her mother, he noted, else she wouldn't be so eager to reassure her.
"How did you know I was here? Oh, I forgot about your police scanner. You called Marie? And she told you I was here. Ah.
Hmm? Yes, we're definitely under a quarantine." She cleared her throat. "Yes, we might have to consider p-postponing the
wedding."
A staticy screech sounded through the phone. He opened one eye to find her holding the handset away from her ear. When the
noise subsided, she pulled it closer. "Mom, I said 'might.' I'll know more in a few hours. Right now I really need to go to bed."
An unfocused thrill rumbled through his beleaguered body at her words—a base reaction to a woman's voice, he reasoned.
Any woman's voice.
Her gaze lowered to meet his, and she blanched. "I m-mean, I really need to get some rest, Mom. Not necessarily in bed. A
person doesn't have to be in bed in order to rest. Hmm?" Her eyes darted around. "The man who answered?"
He might have laughed at her predicament if he'd had the energy. As it was, he was having trouble keeping the one eyelid
half-open.
She was staring at him, chewing on her lower lip. "That was, um, the, um…"
"Best man?" he prompted, barely moving his lips.
She scowled and turned her back. "That was the … be—ll man. Yes, the bellman."
He wondered briefly what the bellman's job paid and how it compared to advertising.
"Why am I here?" Another fake laugh, except this one sounded a tad hysterical. "I'll tell you all about it later, okay?" She bent
over, still talking as she moved the handset closer to the receiver. "Good night, Mom. Okay … okay … okay … bye." She
jammed the phone home with a sigh, now the only sound in the room the faint whir of the air conditioner, which he'd turned up.
He closed his one eye. Man, was it hot down here in Atlanta.
"I assume you requested a cot."
His eyes flew open at the accusing
Similar Books
