About Last Night...

“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 was 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 hungover, 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.”

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