he’d carried her coat to her, which she snatched and held over herself.
“Technically speaking,” he said, curling his fingers around one wrist and holding his hands low over his crotch, “I guess I’m Steve’s best man.”
She snapped her gaze back to his and squinted at him in the low lighting. She was certain she’d never met him before, although granted, people looked different with their clothes off. He was a big man—even in her preposterous shoes, he towered over her. His dark hair was cropped close at the sides and back, with the top just long enough to stick up after sleeping. His face was broad and pleasing, with a strong jaw, distinct cheekbones and an athletically altered nose which now appeared red and irritated. On his mouth was the telltale stain of her pink lipstick and she cringed, recalling the way she’d kissed the perfect stranger. But on the list of kissing transgressions, surely kissing your fiancé’s best man was worse than kissing a perfect stranger…Her brain was too fuzzy to work it all out—she’d have to ask Marie.
But one realization did strike her with jarring clarity: she hadn’t even realized she wasn’t kissing Steve.
With that sobering thought, Janine refused to look lower than Derek’s wide shoulders, although she vividly remembered the mat of hair she’d run her fingers through while straddling the man. She wasn’t even sure Steve had hair on his chest. A wave of dizziness hit her and she realized the bustier was probably limiting her oxygen supply. “You…” Are the most physically appealing man I’ve ever laid eyes on. “You must be Jack’s brother.”
The man’s mouth tightened almost imperceptibly. “Yes.”
“You went to college with Steve?”
He nodded, and she noticed his eyes were the deepest brown—quite intense with his dark coloring.
“Um…” She glanced around, spying Steve’s suitcase sitting next to a writing desk. “Where is Steve?”
“At his bachelor party.”
Not a man of many words, this one. “Why aren’t you with him?”
“I wasn’t—that is, I’m not—feeling well.”
She peered closer, taking in his drooping eyes. “Do you have a cold?”
“I suppose.”
“What are you taking for it?”
His eyebrows knitted in question.
“I’m a physician’s assistant.”
He looked thoroughly unimpressed. “I’m taking some stuff I picked up in the gift shop.”
He reached for a handkerchief on the nightstand next to the bed, then sneezed twice, each time causing his flat abdominal muscles to contract above the waistband of his pale blue boxers—strictly a medical observation of his general fitness level, she noted, which was important when prescribing treatment. “Bless you. You really should get some rest.”
He turned watery eyes her way and smirked. “I was trying.”
Her cheeks flamed. As if the mix-up were her mistake, as if she’d planned this fiasco. Flustered, she flung out her arm to indicate the dark walls of the room, but somehow ended up pointing to the bed where the covers lay as contorted as her thoughts. “What…when…” She jerked back her offending hand. “Why did Steve give you his room?”
“My flight was late, and I didn’t have a room when I arrived. Steve said he wouldn’t need—” He broke off and averted his gaze.
“Wouldn’t need what, Mr. Stillman?”
Glancing back, he massaged the bridge of his nose and winced. “Don’t you think we can drop the formalities since we’re both in our underwear?”
At his sarcastic tone, anger drove out any vestiges of fear that lingered, since she didn’t appear to be in imminent danger of anything other than dying of humiliation. Still, she forced herself to speak in a calm tone to Steve’s best man. “Okay. Derek, Steve wouldn’t need what?”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then frowned at the streak of pink lipstick. Janine squirmed when he looked to her. “He said he wouldn’t be needing the room—I suppose the guys were going to party all night.” His gaze fell to her shoes and one corner of his mouth drew back. “I take it he wasn’t expecting you.”
She summoned the dredges of her pride and lifted her chin. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
“Trust me, it was,” he said, then retrieved a pair of wrinkled jeans from the arm of a chair.
Distracted by the fluid motion of his body performing the simple act of getting dressed, she almost lost her own opportunity to don her coat in relative privacy. But she quickly recovered, and by the time he’d pulled on the jeans and a gray University of Kentucky sweatshirt, she had buttoned the coat up to her chin and knotted the belt twice. With his back to her, he used the palm of his hand and pushed his chin first right, then left, to the tune of two loud pops of his neck bones.
“You really shouldn’t do that,” she admonished. “It could…be…danger…ous…” She trailed off when he looked up, his lips pursed, his expression perturbed. Janine swallowed. “M-maybe I should call Steve on his cell phone.”
He nodded curtly and walked past her into the bathroom without making eye contact. A few seconds later the muffled sound of the sink water splashing on floated out from behind the closed door.
With her heart in her throat, Janine trotted to the nightstand, then followed the phone cord to the handset that lay under the bed. Now she knew why the line had been busy, and with shock realized that smoky voice on the other end when she’d called from home had been none other than Derek Stillman’s. She bit the inside of her cheek. What a fine mess she’d gotten herself into. Steve’s surprise was ruined, and she’d never live down this scene. She sat on the floor, her finger hovering over the buttons. Maybe she should just call a cab and vamoose, after swearing Derek to secrecy. Assuming she could trust the man. He seemed pretty surly for someone who was supposed to be a friend of Steve’s.
Her fingers shook as she punched in the number of her sister’s boyfriend’s place, but no one answered and Greg didn’t believe in answering machines. She called twice more, allowing the phone to ring several times, to no avail. Next she called her and her sister’s apartment, but Marie was either in transit, or still at Greg’s—probably indulging in something wonderfully wicked. When the machine picked up, she left a quick message for Marie to stay put until she called again.
Janine hung up and glanced over her shoulder at the closed bathroom door, still tingling over the accidental encounter with the unsettling stranger. Talk about crawling into the wrong bed—Goldilocks had officially been unseated. To top it off, Derek had shrugged off the sexualized situation with a laugh, while she’d been shaken to her spleen, not just by her unbelievable gaff, but by her base response to the man’s physique.
To curtail her line of thinking, she punched in Steve’s cell-phone number, willing words to her mouth to explain the awkward situation in the best possible light. Steve might get a big kick out of the mix-up and return to the hotel right away. She brightened, thinking the night had a chance to be salvaged, if they could shuffle the best man to another room, that is. After Steve’s phone rang three times, he answered over a
