About Last Night...

“I’M SORRY, ma’am, but I can’t give you a key to Mr. Larsen’s room without his permission.” The young male clerk gave Janine an apologetic look, but shook his head.

Janine bit down on her lower lip to assuage her growing panic. What had she gotten herself into? Marie was long gone and said she was going to stop by Greg’s on the way home. Janine would have to call a cab to get a ride back to the apartment they shared. Which would be fine except she’d left her purse in Marie’s car, and she had no money or apartment key on her person.

And beneath the raincoat, had very little clothing on her person.

“Okay, call him,” she relented. It would still be a surprise, just not as dramatic.

The clerk obliged, then looked up from the phone. “The line’s busy, ma’am.”

She frowned. Who could Steve be talking to at one in the morning? A sliver of concern skittered up her spine, but she manufactured a persuasive smile. “He’s probably trying to call me. If you’ll give me his room number, I’ll just walk on up.”

“I’m afraid that’s against hotel policy, ma’am.” The teenager ran a finger around his collar, and he looked flushed.

Sizing up her options, she leaned forward on the counter, making sure the coat gaped just enough for a glimpse of the pink bustier. She looked at his name tag. “Um, Ben—may I call you Ben?”

He nodded, his gaze riveted on the opening in her coat.

“Ben, Mr. Larsen is my fiancé, and we’re getting married here on Saturday. I dropped by to, um, surprise him, and I’d hate to tell him that you’re the one who wouldn’t let me up to his room.”

Ben swallowed. “I’ll call his room a-g-gain.” He picked up the phone and dialed, then gave her a weak smile. “Still busy.”

She assumed a wounded expression, and leaned closer. “Ben, can’t you make an exception, just this one teensy-weensy time?”

“Is there a problem here, Ben?”

Janine turned her head to see a tall blond man wearing a hotel sport coat standing a few steps away.

The young man straightened. “No, Mr. Oliver. This lady needs to see a guest, but the line is busy.”

The blond man’s clear blue eyes seemed to miss nothing as his gaze flitted over her, then he turned to Ben, obviously his employee. “Ben, there seems to be a bug going around and you look a little feverish. Why don’t you take a break and I’ll help our guest.”

Ben scooted away and Mr. Oliver took his place behind the counter. “Good evening, ma’am. I’m Manny Oliver, the general manager. How can I help you?” His smile was genuine, and his voice friendly. She immediately liked him and her first thought was that he was as sharp as a tack. She hoped she didn’t look drunk.

“I’m Janine Murphy and I came to visit my fiancé, Steve Larsen. We’re having our rehearsal dinner here tomorrow—I mean, tonight, and our wedding in your gazebo on Saturday.”

He nodded. “Congratulations. I’m familiar with the arrangements. Now, let me see what I can do for you.” He consulted a computer, then picked up the phone and dialed. A few seconds later, he returned the handset. “Mr. Larsen’s phone is still busy, but I’d be glad to walk up and knock on his door to let him know you’re here.”

The best she could manage was a half smile.

Mr. Oliver leaned on the counter, an amused expression on his smooth face. “Why do I have the feeling there’s more to this story?” He nodded to her gapped coat.

Janine pulled her coat lapels closed. “I…I thought I would surprise him. He’s staying here tonight because his house is full of relatives and his groomsmen were taking him out for his bachelor party.”

He checked his watch. “And he’s back already?”

She nodded. “I called before I left, and he answered the phone.”

“So he does know you’re coming?”

“No, I hung up. This is supposed to be a surprise.”

He pursed his lips and mirth lit his eyes. “You’ve never done anything like this before, have you?”

Janine winced. “No, but after a half bottle of wine, it seemed like a good idea when my sister suggested it.”

Suddenly he laughed and shook his head. “You remind me of some friends of mine.”

“Is that good?”

Pure affection shone on his face. “Very.”

“So you’ll give me his room key?”

He stroked his chin as he studied her. “Ms. Murphy, even though it’s none of my business, I have to ask because you seem like a nice woman.” He lowered his chin and his voice. “Don’t you think it’s a little risky to surprise a man on the night of his bachelor party?”

“But he was asleep when I called,” she said.

He pressed his lips together and lifted his eyebrows, then stared at her until realization dawned on her.

“Oh, Steve wouldn’t,” she said, shaking her head.

“Alcohol can make a person do things they wouldn’t ordinarily do,” he said, giving her a pointed look. Then he patted her hand. “My advice would be to save it for the honeymoon, doll.”

She wasn’t sure where the tears came from, but suddenly a box of tissues materialized and the man was dabbing at her face.

“You’d better switch to waterproof mascara before the ceremony,” he chided gently, and she had the feeling he’d wiped away many a tear. “Did I say something wrong?”

“N-no,” she said, sniffling. “It’s just that…well, I don’t want to wait for the honeymoon—that’s sort of why I came here.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Oh. Well, now I understand your persistence.”

“So you’ll give me a key?”

Mr. Oliver chewed on his lower lip for a few seconds. “What will you do if you walk in and find him in bed with someone else?”

She blew her nose, marveling she could be so frank with a stranger. “I’d thank my lucky stars and you that I found out before it’s too late.”

“No bloodshed?”

Janine laughed. “I’m not armed.”

“Not true, I saw those stilettos.” He reached under the counter and slid an electronic key across the counter. “Top floor, room 855. Good luck.”

“Thank you, Mr. Oliver.” She smiled, then turned on her heel, somewhat unsteadily, and headed toward the stairs. With her claustrophobia, she avoided elevators, and the long climb upward gave her time to anticipate Steve’s reaction. Maybe she should simply open the door and slide into bed with him. After all, this was her chance to let it all hang out, and to find out if Steve would continue to draw sexual boundaries for their marriage.

By the time she reached the eighth floor, her heart was pounding from nervousness and exertion. A blister was raising on her left heel, and her breasts were chafed. Being sexually assertive was hard work, and darned uncomfortable. She stopped to refresh her pink lipstick under the harsh light of a hallway fixture, and didn’t recognize herself in the compact mirror. Her angular face was a little blurry around the edges, a lingering effect of her wine buzz, she assumed. Blatant desire softened her blue eyes, intense apprehension colored her cheeks and rapid respiration flared her nostrils. One look at her face—plus the fact that she was trussed up like a pink bird—and even a fence post couldn’t mistake her intention.

Janine drew color onto her mouth with a shaky hand, then gave herself a pep talk while she located his room. Her knees were knocking as she inserted the electronic key, but the flashing green light seemed to say “go”: Go after what you want, go for the gusto, go for an all-nighter.