ABOUT LAST NIGHT

by Stephanie Bond

  “—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 and lifted a lid from one of the trays, but scrutinized the assortment of fruit, yogurt and miniature bagels with distaste. “Not much here that’ll stick to your ribs.”

  She lifted the other lid to reveal eggs, sausage, bacon and pancakes. “This one’s yours.”

  Finally, something to smile about. “Coffee, too? 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 those fat grams.”

  “I’m a big guy,” he said, frowning. “I have big arteries.”

  Like 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, not wolfishly, but 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 don’t have any 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?”

  “We own an advertising agency in Lexington, Jack and I.”

  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 so 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 made a clicking noise with his cheek. “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. “Lots of times. 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.

  Setting down her bottled water, she asked, “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. “A person can only do so much with computer clip art.”

  “Can’t you simply hire another artist?”

  “Not and still pay Jack.”

  She angled her head at him. “But why would you still 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 wife and 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, that is.

  “Steve always ins
isted 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, but enunciated each word.

  “Right,” she said, standing abruptly. “Nothing. 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 dialed the number, and just as she expected, his mother answered the phone.

  “Mrs. Larsen, this is Janine.”

  “Janine! Well, isn’t this the most perfectly horrible mess? I have every television on in the house watching for news of the quarantine, and Mr. Larsen is calling a friend of his at the CDC to arrange an immediate release for you.”

  Janine cleared her throat. “I appreciate Mr. Larsen’s efforts,” she said carefully, while something deep inside her resented the Larsens’ attitude that every situation could be corrected simply by pulling a string. “But in my case at least, since I’ve been directly exposed to the illness, I seriously doubt that 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 Mr. Larsen handle everything, especially since you’re not really in a position to argue, are you?”

  Janine frowned. “Excuse me?”

  “Well, dear, if you hadn’t gone to the hotel, then we simply could have moved the whole kit and caboodle to the club.” She tsk-tsked. “If we can get you out by noon, we might still be able to make it work. Oh, Lord, give me strength, I’ll be on the phone all day. Janine,” 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, Mrs. Larsen?”

  “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 had risen quietly and was moving toward the bathroom, to give her privacy, no doubt. “Did you have a good time last night?”

  “Sure,” he said, but guilt tinged his voice. “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 continued in a disapproving tone.

  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?” Irritation, even anger, spiked his tone.

  She chewed on her lower 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, Janine,” 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.”

  *

  11

  « ^ »

  Dad is still working his contacts at the CDC. Don’t worry, this mess will be over soon.

  Love, Steve

  Janine’s shoulders dropped in relief as she stared at the handwritten note, then she raised a smile to the messenger standing beside her in the hallway.

  Manny seemed surprised at her reaction. “Gee, the message didn’t sound like such great news when I took it over the phone.”

  “Oh, but it is,” she assured him.

  Looking perplexed, he said, “But not if your fiancé is trying to get you out of here.”

  Janine glanced guiltily over her shoulder where she’d left the room door slightly ajar. She pulled the door closed and lowered her voice. “I, um … could use some time to sort through a few things.”

  He nodded thoughtfully, then crossed his arms. “Since I’ve been away from Atlanta for a couple of years, I didn’t connect with the name Larsen at first. I checked the catering records to be sure—your future father-in-law is the vice-mayor.”

  She nodded. “Lance Larsen.”

  “The champion of the Morality Movement.”

  “Yes.” The Morality Movement was a group of conservative individuals in Atlanta who had formed
to banish prostitution and crack houses in a particularly seedy part of town. But once they’d made headway, the group had moved on to more controversial practices, and in the process, had propelled Lance Larsen to one of the most recognizable personalities in the city. Steve’s father had run on the platform of being a family man with solid southern values, and had won the election by a nose.

  “I know the man,” Manny said, reclaiming her from her muse. “Very right wing. He and I clashed a time or two during rallies in my youth.” He smiled, although the mirth didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Is the son anything like the senior Mr. Larsen?”

  Janine shook her head. “Steve has some of his father’s traditional values, but he’s much more open-minded.” But she stopped before the echo of her own words had died. Was Steve really more open-minded, or was it simply the persona he had perfected? “He’s … a surgeon,” she murmured, then caught Manny’s gaze, which was crystal clear and reflected her own revelation. What did Steve being a surgeon have to do with anything that truly mattered?

  But her new friend let her off the hook, his mouth softening into a smile. “A surgeon, huh? Sounds like a real catch.”

  She nodded slowly.

  “And I understand now why you wouldn’t want word of your accidental and unfortunate sleeping arrangements to get back to the Larsen family.” He tilted his head and his eyes probed hers. “After all, they might jump to some crazy conclusion about you and Mr. Stillman.”

  Janine blinked once, twice. “Manny, I … I think I’m in over my head and I don’t know what to do.”

  He exhaled, then smiled sadly and clasped her hand between both of his. “There’s only one thing you can do when you’re in over your head, sweetheart.”

  “What?” she whispered.

  “You have to cut anchor.” He nudged her chin up a fraction of an inch with his forefinger before giving her an encouraging wink, then turned on his heel.

  “Manny,” she called after him. He looked back, and she gestured to the shopping bag of goodies he’d brought her. “Thanks. For everything.”

  He inclined his fair head, then disappeared around the corner.

  Janine hesitated long enough to scan the bright yellow tag on the doorknob which indicated an occupant remained symptomatic. From her point of view, she could see only one additional yellow tag, on a door at the end of the hall. She frowned at Maureen Jiles’s empty doorknob. Apparently the woman was still kicking.