Читать книгу The By Request Collection - Kate Hardy - Страница 35

Five

After making a full sweep of the ballroom and securing commitments for very generous sums from donors, Gracie found an empty seat with a view of the dance floor and settled back to have a drink. Her third of the night, which was her absolute limit. She was scanning the room to see where Roman might be when she felt a tap on her shoulder. “Would you care to dance?”

Gracie looked up to find Roman standing beside her, and like a dummy said, “Dance?”

“It’s what those people over there are doing,” he said, gesturing to the dance floor with that wry grin. “I hold you, we sway.”

“I know what it is,” she said, trying not to smile. He was only making it worse, poking fun at her like that. And she liked it far too much for her own good. The drink was making her feel fuzzy and loosening her inhibitions. Which couldn’t have been worse.

She set it down on the table beside her.

“I’m just not sure I want to.”

“If I recall, you loved to dance.”

“Are you sure you have room on your ticket?” she asked, since as far as she could tell he had danced with practically every young, single woman here tonight.

“What’s the matter, Gracie? Are you jealous?” he asked with a playful look that melted her.

She rolled her eyes. “As if.”

He leaned in close, the whisper of his breath caressing her ear. “You know you’re the only one I really want to dance with.”

Why did he have to say things like that? To have him hold her hand had been tantalizing enough, but the idea of being that close to him, and the feelings it would stir up, terrified her. But he was so handsome and charming that when he offered his arm she took it and let him lead her to the dance floor, knowing that the second he pulled her into his arms she would both regret and love it at the same time.

She really shouldn’t have had that third drink.

Feeling his huge hand on her lower back, she braced herself as he eased her in close. Much closer than those other women he’d danced with. And as her breasts brushed against his wide chest she felt her nipples tingle and harden. His grip on her hand was gentle yet firm, and as her other hand came to rest on his biceps, she could feel the hard muscle underneath his tuxedo jacket.

Roman had always been a big guy, but now? There was just so much of him. And it felt good.

Way too good. Too much like the old days when keeping their hands off each other had been impossible. Her thigh brushed his and against her will she could feel herself relaxing in his arms. Roman had always been a good dancer, and his injuries didn’t seem to have changed that.

As if reading her mind, Roman said, “I seem to recall us doing this a time or two before.” He paused, his eyes snagging hers, and then added, “Although not with quite so many clothes on. And not vertically.”

Her knees went weak and her cheeks burned. He had to go and remind her, didn’t he? Making love with Roman had never been anything but wonderful. They connected in a way that she never had with anyone else. Not before and not since. They would spend hours in bed lying naked together alternating between kissing and making love and just talking. Touching him, running her hands over his body, had always been a favorite pastime that never grew old.

Apparently not even now.

“You’re pushing it,” she warned him, feeling dizzy from the musky scent of his aftershave as the rest of the world faded into the background, until it felt as if it was just the two of them there in the ballroom.

“It’s the truth,” he said. “I know you haven’t forgotten.”

She wished she could, but what they’d had together had been pretty unforgettable. “Stop trying to seduce me.”

A grin tilted the corners of his beautiful mouth. “Is that what I’m doing?”

She cursed the wobble in her voice as she said, “I told you that this isn’t a date.”

The deep baritone of his voice strummed across her senses and his breath tickled her cheek. “So, no good-night kiss at your doorstep?”

“I picked you up,” she reminded him.

“No kiss at mine?”

Since the limo had fetched him at his office, she had no idea where he even lived. Not that it made a difference either way. “No kissing anywhere.”

“Not even a little one on the cheek?”

It would never stop at just her cheek. And one taste of his lips would destroy her self-control. She was on shaky ground as it was.

His eyes grew dark with desire. “But we were so good at it.”

She couldn’t argue there, and denying it would be a waste of time.

“This is business,” she told him, scrambling for a safe topic to explore, one he couldn’t turn into a sexual innuendo. “Have you talked to Graham and Brooks about meeting with my father?”

“Did Sutton tell you to ask me that?”

Well, no, not specifically, so it wasn’t a lie when she said, “I was just curious.”

“But he did ask you to bring me tonight. He wants to keep tabs on me.”

To say no would be a lie, and she was a terrible liar. He would see right through her.

“Why would you think that?” she asked instead, answering his question with a question of her own.

He laughed. “So that’s a yes.”

She blinked. “I didn’t say—”

“You didn’t have to. I can still read you like a book, Gracie.”

Damn him. What was she supposed to say now?

The hand resting on her lower back slipped an inch or so lower and her heart skipped a beat. “Look me in the eye and tell me Sutton didn’t put you up to this.”

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t look him in the eye and lie, and if she looked away he would have his answer. She didn’t know what to do.

Curse her damned guilty conscience.

The arm around her tightened and Roman’s look went from playful to serious in a heartbeat. “I don’t care, Gracie. It doesn’t matter why we’re here together. Just that we are.”

He’d obviously known all along that she’d had ulterior motives, and the fact that he wasn’t angry, or at least a little upset with her, meant...what? That he wanted her? Well, that was pretty obvious. The question was, what did she want?

The song ended and she pulled away, out of his arms. And thankfully he let her go. If he had resisted, even a tiny bit, or asked her to dance again, she would have been toast.

“I have people I need to speak with,” she said. “But thank you for the dance.”

He didn’t say a word. He just smiled.

And she ran.

Well, her four-inch heels prevented her from actually running, but she did bolt. Right for the bar. Screw her three-drink limit. She needed a strong one right now. She was lusting after a man who only three days ago she’d hated with a passion almost as hot as her desire for him.

One more drink turned into two as she mingled and talked up the wealthiest of the guests in attendance. She ignored Roman, but she could feel his eyes on her. He had her in such a state she found herself at the bar asking for drink number six. And at some point she went back for drink number seven. Which was a very bad idea. By eleven o’clock she was feeling more than a little tipsy. She was fatally attracted to him, and her defenses couldn’t be much lower. What the hell had she been thinking?

In an attempt to dull her senses, she’d only amplified her desire and left herself more vulnerable than ever.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Dizzy and a little disoriented, she made her way to the ladies’ room to freshen up. She sat in the lounge for several minutes to collect herself and guzzled a bottle of water, hoping it might dilute the effects of the alcohol, but when she stood back up she felt more unsteady than ever.

What was she supposed to do now, stumble around the ballroom like a drunken fool?

What the hell had she gotten herself into?

Hating herself for being so careless, she left the ladies’ room as gracefully as she could. Roman was waiting for her a few feet from the door, holding his coat and her wrap.

“I had a feeling you would be ready to leave,” he said and she could have cried she was so relieved.

“Yes, please.”

She braced herself against the wall as he slipped her wrap around her shoulders and put on his coat. He slipped his arm through hers, presumably so that she wouldn’t fall over, and led her to the elevator.

“You know what happens when you have more than three drinks. Were you trying to get hammered?”

Yup, he had been watching her. That he knew her so well should have bothered her, but it didn’t. Other than her wounded pride, there wasn’t much of anything bothering her right now.

“I’m not hammered,” she said, but her mouth couldn’t seem to make the words come out just right.

“Liar.”

Yep, she was lying.

They took the elevator down to the parking level and she leaned against him, his hard body keeping her upright, but as the doors slid open, and she took a step, she stumbled.

“You’re going to break a leg in those heels,” he said.

“Am not,” she argued, stumbling again, clutching his arm for balance. In a flash of movement that left her dizzy and disoriented, he scooped her up into his arms. She let out a startled squeak and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I can walk.”

“Barely,” he said, sounding amused. He carried her to the limo and helped her inside. Then he disappeared. She looked around, confused. Was he sending her home alone?

He was back several seconds later carrying her clutch and one of her shoes. She looked down and saw that her left foot was bare.

Huh. She hadn’t even felt the shoe fall off.

He climbed in and sat across from her. “Lose something?”

“Thanks,” she said, as he dropped her things on the seat beside her.

The limo started to move and she closed her eyes.

Bad idea. The interior of the vehicle began to spin around her. She clutched the edge of the seat and opened them again, but it didn’t help much.

Roman regarded her sternly. “You’re not going to be sick, are you?”

She shook her head, which made the spinning worse. “I may be a little drunk.”

“You think?”

The seat shifted underneath her, but then she realized it was her body shifting and righted herself. “No, that’s a lie,” she said, her words slurred. “I’m definitely hammered.”

“Are you sure you’re not going to be sick?”

“I’m not sure of anything right now.” This time, when she closed her eyes, she didn’t open them again.

* * *

After a night of strange, vivid dreams about Roman, Gracie woke slowly the next morning, a drum pounding in her temples, wondering how the heck, and when the heck, she had gotten home. Her throat was dry and her tongue felt thick and as she pried her eyes open and took in her completely unfamiliar surroundings, she realized she wasn’t at home. She was...

Where the hell was she?

She blinked the sleep from her eyes and sat up in bed, the movement sending a shaft of pain through her head. Nothing looked familiar.

She spotted a sheath of apricot silk draped over a chair across the room. It was the dress she’d worn the night before. And then she realized that all she had on were her strapless push-up bra and matching panties.

Oh God, what had she done? And where the hell was she?

She closed her eyes against the raging pain in her skull and groaned, trying to piece together what had happened last night. The last thing she remembered was Roman carrying her to the limo. Everything after that was pretty much a blur.

Had he taken her home with him?

At the foot of the bed lay a pair of pajama bottoms and T-shirt big enough to fit two of her, and on the bedside table sat a glass of water and two pain-reliever tablets. At least, she was guessing that’s what they were. They could have been poison for all she knew, but death right now would be a welcome reprieve from the pain.

She gobbled them down and chugged the entire glass as she glanced around the room. It was decorated in earth tones with splashes of color here and there. The room was neither masculine nor feminine, which told her it was probably a spare. Through an open door she could see the bathroom, and guessed that the closed door next to it was a closet.

She pushed herself to get out of bed and change when what she really wanted to do was lie back down and sleep off the pounding in her head. The T-shirt hung down to her knees and thankfully the pajama bottoms had a drawstring because otherwise they would have been around her ankles. She looked out the window to a very cushy subdivision of midsize homes on decent-size lots. She had no clue where it was geographically. It looked cold and dreary out.

She didn’t doubt that Roman could afford a much bigger home, in a much swankier neighborhood, but he had never been into appearances. He had always been a practical man, and she could see that hadn’t changed.

In the bathroom she found a toothbrush still in the package and an unopened tube of toothpaste. And when she looked in the mirror she cringed. Her hair was a disaster, sticking every which way, and her mascara was smudged around her eyes. She looked like a deranged raccoon.

She found a hairbrush in one of the drawers and did what she could to her tattered blond locks and used the washcloth hanging on the towel rack to fix her face.

Honestly it wasn’t much help. Her excessive behavior was clear in her baggy eyes and pale complexion.

Oh well. Roman had seen her in worse shape than this before.

She brushed her teeth and refilled the water glass two more times, drinking more slowly. She didn’t feel sick, but she didn’t feel great, either. If she hadn’t already barfed—and oh did she hope she hadn’t—it was still a possibility.

With no hope of looking even halfway decent, she opened the bedroom door. The scent of coffee led her down the stairs to an open-concept living and dining room and a functional kitchen.

She found Roman lounging on a leather sectional wearing a long-sleeved camouflage thermal shirt and black running pants, his bare feet propped on a familiar-looking coffee table. He was reading the newspaper and a football game played on the flat-screen television across the room.

“Do I smell coffee?” she said.

He glanced up at her and smiled. “You do. The last time I checked on you, you were stirring so I made a fresh pot.”

He’d checked on her. How sweet was that? Not that she needed to be checked on. She was used to living alone. But still...

“Would you like a cup?”

“Please. A really big one.” She needed the caffeine to shake the blazing headache.

He eyed her questioningly. “Think your stomach can take it?”

“If I don’t have a cup, my head might explode. Unless you have something more direct, like an IV.”

He laughed, the deep baritone strumming across every nerve in her body. Even in her compromised state it made her already-wobbly knees knock a little harder. “Have a seat,” he said, pushing up off the couch. “One black coffee coming right up.”

She took a seat on the other end of the couch from where he’d been sitting, her body sinking into the plush leather, and watched him as he pulled a mug down from the cupboard over the coffeemaker and poured.

“Did you see the pills I left you?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you. And the things in the bathroom.”

He carried the cup to her. “Hungry?”

At the thought of food, her stomach turned and she shook her head.

Bad move.

Her temples screamed and she told him, “One thing at a time.”

The superstrong brew burned her tongue, but it tasted amazing. Definitely what she needed. This wasn’t the first time he’d nursed her through a hangover. Not even close. And he still knew just what to do. How to make her feel better. And he still cared after all this time.

“So, what happened last night? Aside from me getting drunk?”

He sat back down, taking up so much space it was ridiculous. When had he gotten so...wide? His biceps bulged against the sleeves of his shirt and his thighs were ridiculously muscular. “What do you remember?”

“After we left the hotel? I vaguely recall the limo ride, and after that, nothing. Why did you bring me here instead of taking me home?” Or maybe she didn’t want to know.

“I did take you home, but without the passcode I couldn’t get you into your apartment. The doorman wasn’t much help.”

She winced a little at the idea of Dale, the night doorman, seeing her that way.

“How did I end up out of my dress?” she asked.

“You don’t remember?”

Cautiously she said, “No.”

“Damn,” he said, shaking his head, a frown cutting deep into his brow. “Sex that wild, I was sure you would remember.”

She gasped, her eyes went wide and her heart stalled in her chest. “We did not!”

“Relax. I’m kidding,” he said with a chuckle. “Nothing happened.”

Was that disappointment she just felt? Nah, it couldn’t be. Besides, if she was going to sleep with him she would like to actually remember it.

If? Oh my God, there was no if. She wasn’t going to sleep with him. Ever.

Yeah, Gracie, you just keep telling yourself that.

“So why did I wake up in my underwear?”

“I helped you out of your dress and into bed. In the dark, so I didn’t see anything.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Really?”

He grinned. “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

He was so lying.

“Not that I haven’t seen it all before,” he added.

True, and her body hadn’t changed much in the past seven years. But his sure had, and what she wouldn’t give to see him out of his clothes.

“You did try to jump me on the limo ride home, though,” he said, and then added with a grin, “Still limber as ever.”