About Last Night... (6 page)

thundercloud.

"He's back," she said into the phone.

"Steve?"

"No, Derek. Hang on a minute, sis. Something is happening in the lobby." With every turn of the door, more and more suited

and uniformed personnel filtered into the lobby of the hotel. Mr. Oliver walked in, and his smooth face seemed especially

serious.

A terrible sense of foreboding enveloped her. Janine waved at Derek and motioned him toward her. He seemed none too

pleased to see her again, but he did walk toward where she stood, his gait long and agitated.

"What's going on?" she whispered.

Derek gestured in the air above his head. "I don't know. A deputy said I couldn't leave and asked me to come back inside."

A man in a dark suit and no tie lifted a small bullhorn to his mouth. "Could I have your attention, please?"

The lobby quieted, and for the first time, Janine realized just how crowded the expansive space had become. Her lungs

squeezed and she breathed as steadily as she could, trying to hedge the feeling of claustrophobia. Standing next to Derek didn't

help because his big body crowded her personal space. She stepped as far away from him as the metal phone cord would

allow, which garnered her a sharp look from his brown eyes. With much effort, she resisted the urge to explain and gave the

doctor her full attention.

The man had paused for effect, sweeping his gaze over the room. "My name is Dr. Marco Pedro, and I'm with the Centers for

Disease Control here in Atlanta. As you can see, several dozen people have been stricken with an illness we are still trying to

identify. With a recent outbreak of E. coli contagion on the west side of town, we can't be too careful."

Janine's knees weakened with dread. Because of her medical training, she knew what the man's next words would be.

"So, until further notice," Dr. Pedro continued, "guests cannot leave the premises. Every individual in this facility is

officially under quarantine."

5

« ^ »

J
anine's heart dropped to her stomach. "A quarantine?" she whispered.
This can't be happening.
Next to her, Derek muttered a

healthy oath that corresponded with the collective groan that went up throughout the lobby.

"Janine," Marie said in her ear. "What's going on?"

"The CDC just put the place under quarantine," she croaked. "I'll call you back." Then she hung up the phone

unceremoniously.

"Was that Steve?" Derek asked.

"No, my sister," she replied, distracted by the uproar.

Angry guests were on their feet, firing questions at the doctor: "For how long?" "But I have to leave tomorrow!" "Am I

dying?"

Dr. Pedro held up his hands. "One at a time. We will answer your questions as soon as possible. The symptoms at this time

don't appear to be life-threatening. For obvious reasons, we don't know how long the quarantine will last, but I estimate you'll

be detained for at least forty-eight hours."

"Oh no," Janine murmured, and the lobby erupted into more chaos. A few people tried to make a run for the exits, but

security guards had already been posted.

Her heart tripped faster when she realized she was confined to the building, and might be for some time—a claustrophobe's

nightmare.

"There is no need to panic," the doctor continued in a raised, but soothing voice. "Believe me, ladies and gentleman, the

quarantine is for your own protection and for the protection of the people outside these walls with whom you would otherwise

come into contact."

As a health professional, Janine knew her first concern should be her own welfare and the safety of those around her, but as

a bride-to-be, her thoughts turned to wedding invitations, ceremony programs and honeymoon reservations, all with a big red

Cancel stamped on them. She swayed and reached for something to steady herself, meeting soft cotton and solid muscle.

"Easy," Derek said, righting her. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." She swallowed. "But my mother is going to have a stroke. We'll have to postpone the wedding."

One corner of his mouth slid back. "Gee, and the rest of us only have to worry about a slow, painful death from a mysterious

disease."

Remorseful, she opened her mouth to recant, but the doctor spoke again.

"Please, everyone return to your rooms immediately. If you need assistance, ask anyone who is wearing a white coat or a

yellow armband. If you develop symptoms, call the front desk and leave a message, a doctor or nurse will be with you soon.

Medical personnel will be canvassing the hotel room by room to ensure no potential case is overlooked. We'll keep everyone

updated as the situation progresses. We'd like to have this area cleared. After that, do not leave your room unless you are given

permission by a person wearing a yellow armband."

Now she knew what it felt like to be hit by a truck and live, Janine decided. So many emotions bombarded her, she didn't

know what to feel first—outrage that her life would have to be rescheduled, fear that she'd been exposed to a dangerous

contaminant, or panic that she was expected to spend at least the next forty-eight hours in close quarters with a virtual stranger.

A virtual stranger who had been vocal about the fact that he didn't want to be here at all.

A sentiment now reinforced by his brooding expression. His jaw was dark from the shadow of his beard, his eyes bloodshot

and his nose irritated.

"You look terrible," she said without thinking.

The sarcastic glance he shot her way made even her creeping panties seem comfortable by comparison. In a dismissive

move, he picked up his suitcase and joined the throng moving toward the elevator and the stairs.

"I'll be right behind you," she said. "I'm going to leave my name with the doctors just in case they can use my help." She was

trying desperately not to think about the fact that she and Derek might be sharing a room for the rest of the night. Or the little

issue of having no money, no ID, no toiletries, no makeup, no clothes, no shoes and no underwear save the costume beneath her

coat.

His only acknowledgment that he'd heard her was the barest of nods. Janine frowned at his back, then turned to approach Dr.

Pedro.

A crowd of guests had gathered around him, some angry, some concerned, all asking questions. The doctor spoke succinctly

in a calming voice, assuring the knot of people that quarantine procedures would be distributed to every room, then asked them

to clear the lobby as soon as possible. She touched the arm of a woman who appeared to be the doctor's assistant and asked if

she could have a word with the doctor about a professional matter. The woman nodded and made her way toward him.

"Ms. Murphy, our paths cross again."

She swung around to see the general manager approaching her, a hint of a smile hiding the worry she knew lingered under his

calm surface. "I trust you found room 855?"

"Um, yes."

He looked as if he was curious about the outcome, but was too much of a gentleman to ask.

She cleared her throat. "Mr. Oliver, I was hoping you would speak to the doctor on my behalf."

"On your behalf?"

"Well, since you can verify I arrived at the resort less than an hour ago—" she splayed her hands "—I was hoping you could

arrange for me to leave."

He poked his tongue into his cheek. "Leave? If I remember correctly, when I first saw you, you were having a nose-to-nose

conversation with Ben, who is now quite ill."

She leaned forward and whispered, "I'm also extremely claustrophobic."

A slight frown creased his forehead. "I suppose I could consult the doctor about your situation, Ms. Murphy, but what about

your fiancé?"

"He, um, wasn't in the room after all."

He pulled a notebook from his pocket. "We have to account for all guests—I'll make a note that the room is empty."

She told herself she should keep her mouth shut, but Derek
w a s
ill and, therefore, probably needed to be kept under

surveillance. Her medical ethics kicked in, and she sighed. "Actually, there was another gentleman in the room."

Mr. Oliver's blue eyes widened. "Oh?"

At that moment, the doctor walked up, nodding to Mr. Oliver, then to Janine. "My assistant said you wished to speak to me."

She tried on her professional face, wondering how disheveled she appeared. "Dr. Pedro, my name is Janine Murphy. I'm a

P.A. here in Atlanta, and I wanted to offer my services in case you find yourself short of personnel."

He was a pleasant-looking man who seemed unruffled in the midst of the pandemonium. "It's kind of you to offer, Ms.

Murphy, but we're fully staffed. Are you feeling well?"

She was sick to her stomach with worry, not to mention a little hung-over, but she nodded. "Yes, and Mr. Oliver can verify I

haven't been at the resort very long, so if you don't think you'll need my help, I was wondering if you might see your way to

release me from the quarantine."

Dr. Pedro gave her a regretful smile. "Ms. Murphy, because of your medical training, you understand why I can't release you,

but if you don't fall ill and a lot of other guests do, indeed we might need your help. I assume you have your license with you?"

Too late, she remembered she didn't have her purse, in which she kept a card-size copy of her license. "Um, no, I'm sorry, I

don't have my license with me."

"If you have other ID on you, my assistant can verify your credentials over the phone."

Her shoulders fell. "Actually, I don't have ID with me, either." She conjured up a laugh. "You see, my sister dropped me off

to visit my fiancé. I, um, hadn't planned an extended visit." Her temperature raised with every mortifying word that seemed

determined to spill out of her mouth for both men to hear.

The dark-haired man's gaze dropped to her black high heels for a split second, then he lifted one bushy eyebrow. "I see. And

how are both of you feeling?"

She squirmed and manufactured a you're-not-going-to-believe-this laugh. "Well, it turned out that my fiancé isn't here after

all. He let another man have his room for the night. His best man. Our best man, that is. For the wedding."

Mr. Oliver pursed his mouth, and put pen to paper. "The man's name?"

"D-Derek Stillman."

An amused smile crossed his face. "Is that with two D's?"

The doctor looked completely lost. "Forgive me, but I'm a very busy man—"

"Wait, Dr. Pedro." Janine looked behind her, relieved to see Derek was definitely out of earshot, then turned back and

encompassed both men with the smile she'd been practicing for her wedding photos. "Perhaps I could at least get a separate

room." When the doctor hesitated, she added, "I barely know the man, and he's exhibiting symptoms."
Two of many reasons for

separate quarters.

Dr. Pedro made a sympathetic sound, then looked to Mr. Oliver. "Do you have any empty rooms?"

The general manager shook his head.

The doctor shrugged. "I'm sorry, Ms. Murphy."

"Perhaps I can stay with the medics," she urged, grasping.

Her face must have reflected her distress because his face softened into an indulgent smile. "No, but maybe we can arrange

to place you with a female guest who isn't exhibiting symptoms and who hasn't been exposed to someone who is."

She smiled, enormously cheered.

"Unless you've already spent time in the man's room."

Her smile dropped while Mr. Oliver's eyebrows climbed. She considered lying, then glanced back to the doctor and nodded

miserably.

"For how long?"

"About thirty minutes, total."

He pursed his lips. "That's not so bad."

Hope resurrected, she smiled.

"But how close was your contact?"

Her smile dropped again. "Fairly close. I checked to see if he had a fever."
Among other things.

The manager must have read her wicked mind, because his lips twitched with suppressed mirth.

"Well, if that's all—" the doctor began.

"No," she broke in, exasperated with herself, but knowing she had to tell the truth. "Actually, I k-kissed him."

Both men blinked.

"Completely by accident," she assured them hastily. "I thought he was my fiancé." She sounded like a raving idiot, but she

couldn't seem to stop, as if she needed to purge herself.

Dr. Pedro's eyes widened. "Are the men identical twins?"

"N-no, but it was very dark."

Looking completely baffled, he cleared his throat. "Ms. Murphy, if you've already been exposed, you simply must stay in the

room." He turned to the general manager. "Moving guests would make it impossible to identify whether the problem is isolated

to certain areas of the hotel."

Mr. Oliver nodded solemnly. "I'll make certain my staff is aware."

The man turned back to Janine. "I hope you understand, Ms. Murphy, why I cannot compromise the quarantine. I'm sorry if

these circumstances put you in a delicate situation."

She nodded, backing away, wishing a tornado would rise up behind her and spirit her away to Kansas. "Thank you for your

time, Dr. Pedro. And please let me know if I can be of service somehow." As if he would ask her now. He probably thought

she was an escapee from the state loony bin.
She
certainly would if she were in his shoes. And right now she'd trade shoes

with just about anyone in the building.