Still Mr. And Mrs. (19 page)

“Did you sit on the bed when you cam up for the shower?” he asked.

“Oh! Ah … yes.” Tony straightened. “I … ah … called Bill to tell him I’d be late. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No problem.”

His brother blinked, and to Nick’s surprise, peered around the room again. “Right. Well, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Around ten?”

Tony gave the room a last searching glance, then nodded.

“Are you all right?” Nick asked, puzzled by Tony’s odd behavior.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Nick closed the door behind him and shrugged. Maybe he’d been too tired tonight to argue effectively with Tony. There had been several problems at the job site today, and as the owner of Mikaris Builders, he had been the only one able to fix them. For a while, he’d almost thought he wouldn’t be able to get away to see Tony. Not that it had done any good, he thought with irritation. Things were still at their usual stalemate.

Yanking off his pullover, he flexed an aching shoulder and decided what he needed was a good night’s sleep. He pulled down the covers of the bed, shed the rest of his clothes, and climbed between the cool sheets.

The image of the woman he’d spotted in the banquet room flashed through his mind. She had been captivating, with her shining brown hair and large innocent eyes. Her features had been almost angelic in their delicacy, and yet he’d sensed a waiting fire in her. It had teased him, tantalized his sanity.

She was probably married.

He blocked out her image and closed his eyes.

Lying across the bathroom floor, Jess hugged the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl to her flushed cheek in relief and gratitude. It was so smooth and cool. Her stomach was finally calming down. It ought to, she thought absently. Nothing was in it now.

She lay there for the longest time, almost dozing, until she finally realized that comforting as the bowl was, it wasn’t comfortable. Pulling the last of her energy together, she sat up. She became aware that she was still in her clothes and her purse was hanging on her arm. She dropped her purse on the floor and stripped off her dress.

Amazing, she thought. She couldn’t care less that she’d fallen asleep in a Rudolpho, but the dress didn’t show a wrinkle. Finally, she staggered back into the bedroom, tossed the dress purse over a chair, and slowly settled into the bed. As she closed her eyes, she vowed to never, never do one of these practical jokes again.

The aftermath was a killer.