dance…those incredible kisses in the hallway, unzipping her dress, and then…question mark. He had to admit he’d been pleasantly surprised when she showed up in the ballroom, re-igniting his desire and excitement the second she smiled at him. The same powerful reactions he felt when he first set eyes on her during the reception.
One minute, he was feigning interest in Lancaster’s endless rhetoric about—something, the next, Jordana stepped in with her quip about his mistake, and her presence revived his mood like a shot of sunshine after days of clouds.
Their playful exchange had been a welcomed diversion to what began as a predictable evening. She was unlike every woman in the room, something about her separating her from the rest. Her soft beauty, smile, and unpracticed seductive air captivated him. She didn’t try to be anyone but herself and that stood out in room teeming with phonies.
He’d given her the Sigvy out of impulse, a thank you for reminding him that he could still be enchanted once in a while. An outrageous gesture no doubt, to give her a necklace of such worth considering they were nothing more than strangers. Then again, he’d spent a lot more money for more honorable reasons, like helping fund a hospital wing…and for less honorable ones, like at a Baccarat table. And just like those times, it’d been worth it.
Suddenly, his cell phone went off.
Jordana awoke.
He uttered a curse and dug deep in his pocket to silence it.
She sat up fast, as if unsure where she was.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with grogginess. “I didn’t mean to wake you like that.”
“Oh…that’s okay.” She blinked. “How long have you been up? What time is it?”
“Not long. It’s a little after eight o’clock.” Needing strong coffee and something to dissipate the burning from his gut, he went to pick up the room phone. “I’m calling room service. What would you like?”
“Coffee for sure.”
“Way ahead of you.” The operator picked up and he ordered a carafe of the good stuff, muffins and fruit, then hung up. “They’re sending it up.”
She pushed up from the bed and moved toward the bathroom, covertly avoiding his gaze.
Drawing his brows together, he sat down on one of the chairs near the window.
If they hadn’t had sex, then why did he sense discomfort on her part? Well, she did spend the night with a man she barely knew. Maybe she just realized that’d been unwise.
He heard the faucets turn on and off a few times, and only after a minute or so, she emerged from the bathroom fresh faced, her long hair pulled away, with an expression of shy uncertainty. She reminded him of an innocent princess, one that he, the ogre, had captured and stolen to satiate his loneliness. Last night she’d seemed much less innocent.
“Well,” he started as she went to her purse, “I don’t know about you, but I can’t remember some of last night. I feel like I drank a whole bottle of scotch. Straight. Without taking a breath.”
“You don’t remember anything?”
“I do,” he rushed in the reassure her. He thought hard and long, then shook his head when once again, his memory failed at the same spot. “Most of it. The last thing I remember was…our kiss downstairs. What happened after that I’m reluctant to admit I can’t recall.” Not the complete truth. He remembered coming up here, unzipping her dress, and the beautiful sight of her breasts, but he didn’t want to embarrass her with that detail. He watched as she went to the mini-fridge and took out two bottled waters, and again, felt compelled to swear last night was irregular for him. “I want you to know I don’t make a habit of blacking out. Well, not since college. I was in a fraternity, after all.” His attempt to make her smile failed. She handed him the water and moved to stand by the window.
An uneasiness settled, and he prayed he didn’t say or do anything the night before to upset her. Then again, if he
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley