Just A Little Fling. Julie Kistler

still,” he said darkly, leaning over her, spreading out his sheet to cover her, too. “There. That ought to do it.”

      Delicately clasping it up to her neck, Lucie huddled on her side of the bed, not touching any of him.

      “I just…I haven’t got a clue how we ended up together,” he said gingerly. But he extended a finger, gently lifting a tendril of her hair as he smiled encouragingly. “Do we know each other?”

      “Well, actually, yes. After last night, I think it’s fair to say we know each other intimately.” She concentrated on bringing air into her lungs. Calmly. Slowly. No need to hyperventilate. Also no need for a mental slide show of the level of that intimacy. “But we did meet before that—you came to my table and you dragged me over to be in the family picture. Ring any bells?”

      “Kind of,” he murmured slowly. “But how did we get from there…to here?”

      “I don’t know. I really don’t know. Baker gave me a key. Room 302. I came right here.”

      “But this is 203.”

      “Isn’t that what I said? Oh. This is 203? Then he must be in 302. But why would his key work in your door?” She shook her head, grabbing her hair in one hand and twisting it into a knot just to get it out of her way. “I don’t understand.”

      “The hair. I remember you now. Lucie, the sneezy redhead.” He rammed a hand into his forehead. “Steffi’s sister. Oh, lord. What have we done?”

      That was the ten-million-dollar question, wasn’t it?