She heard him gathering his clothes from the floor, but didn’t roll over. She hadn’t even seen his face yet this morning. Lina closed her eyes, glad at least that she could picture him. Big, solid, broad-shouldered. His dark auburn hair had been disheveled. Her fingers remembered how silky that hair was. His face was all male, but too rough-hewn to be handsome. It was his bright blue eyes, sharp, that had captivated her. Now she wondered what he’d seen when he looked at her. Had he known from the beginning that she could be coaxed into bed?
She moaned. God, what had she done? How stupid was this, getting drunk and checking into a cheap motel for a one-night stand with a guy she’d met at a tavern? A guy whose last name she didn’t even know?
Really, really stupid, that’s what.
Worse yet, she couldn’t help wondering if she had half intended to do just this. Why else had she gone to the tavern? She could have gotten drunk at home.
The shower came on. Lina rolled to her back and covered her eyes with her hands. She had to have been desperate for confirmation that she was an attractive woman. There was no other explanation for her idiocy. Finding out that David had cheated on her had damaged her self-esteem as much as her heart.
The divorce had been finalized in December.
Merry Christmas to me.
She would have said she was over him until she was hit by yesterday’s nugget of news about David and his new wife. Now she couldn’t even kid herself that he’d ever loved her.
Still...sex with a stranger in a seedy motel room?
He hadn’t felt like a stranger by the time he kissed her. He’d felt like a guy she had really liked. They had things in common. He seemed...decent. Not to mention sexy. He’d given her an out, and she believed he’d have accepted a no if she’d said it.
A funny sensation blossomed in her chest, pushing out the shame. Hope? Yes, hope. Maybe he’d really liked her, too. Maybe this wasn’t as sleazy as it seemed.
Please, God, she thought.
Deciding she needed to be dressed when he reappeared, Lina slipped out of bed and saw that he’d laid her clothes neatly on the dresser as he picked up his own. Which meant he was considerate, too.
Her first clue that she’d screwed up majorly was the icky feeling that she was leaking between her legs. Something was running down the inside of her thighs.
Panic squeezed her. Oh, God. He’d used a condom the first two times they’d...not made love...had sex. But not this morning. She had the awful memory of him tossing a single packet on the bedside stand while tearing open the other one.
He hadn’t had three.
“That bastard.”
Lina calculated quickly. It was late enough in the month, she should be safe—unless he took strange women he picked up in bars to motels on a regular basis and didn’t use condoms.
Her chest felt horribly tight and she was all but panting for breath. Get dressed. That was what she had to do next.
In the act of reaching for her clothes, she saw everything he’d left on the dresser top. A wallet, a set of car keys, a Harris County Sheriff’s Department badge and a square piece of heavy vellum paper with a crease suggesting he’d folded it to jam it in a pocket. An invitation. Her heart hammered sickeningly as she looked down at it.
Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Collins
Request the honor of your presence
At the marriage of their daughter
Paige Marie
To
Brandon Murphy
Saturday, June 23, at 3:00 p.m.
Lina got stuck on the date. She read it over and over.
Today. He was getting married today.
Forget the bachelor party. He’d decided to have a last fling, and she had obliged him.
The shower turned off.
Shaking, panicked, desperate, she yanked on her clothes, not bothering to take the time to put on her bra. She had to be gone before he came out of the bathroom. Her car key was still with the money she’d brought in the pocket of her jeans. The realization that he must have paid for her drinks flitted into her head. And why wouldn’t he have? It was still cheap sex.
She opened and closed the door as quietly as she could, trying to step lightly on the stairs. At the bottom, she took off at a run, barely pausing to check for traffic before tearing across the road. There were only three cars left in the gravel parking lot: hers, a beaten-up pickup truck and a glossy black Camaro. His, of course, she thought bitterly.
Gasping for breath, Lina unlocked the driver’s door of her car and jumped in. She could see the motel in her rearview mirror. The door to their room remained closed. Either he was still in the bathroom, or he was relieved she was gone.
He was likely relieved.
When she pulled onto the road, gravel spit out from beneath her tires.
* * *
BRAN SAW THAT the room was empty the instant he opened the bathroom door. His first reaction was shock. Then he swore viciously. How could he be so freaking stupid as to leave his wallet and car keys out here?
Both were still there, at least, his badge beside them. Man, that would have been embarrassing if she’d taken it. Losing his driver’s license would be a royal pain, too. He flipped open the wallet, relieved at the sight of not only the driver’s license, but also his debit and two credit cards. A little cash was a small price to pay...
But it was there, too. He flipped through the bills, counted. Seemed about right. Had she not even picked up his wallet?
No, of course she hadn’t. She wasn’t that kind of woman. Of course she wasn’t.
Shit, he thought, she did regret the night. The best sex of his life, and she’d run from him, ashamed. And it was his own damn fault. He’d known she didn’t do things like this, that she was drunk and not thinking straight. What had he expected? That she’d be hanging around, wanting to flirt and talk about when they’d see each other again?
He’d find her...
Yeah, and how was he going to do that? Blonde woman, twenty-five to thirty-five years old, approximately five foot six. The tiny mole he’d seen on her shoulder? Only helpful for identification if she was found dead. For all he knew, she wasn’t even from around here. If she was? Alina wasn’t a common name...but he had no idea what her last name was, or what she drove. Where she worked, or what she did for a living.
He swore and leaped for the door, but wasn’t surprised to discover he was too late. His Camaro sat out in front of the tavern, alone except for a rusting pickup he couldn’t in a million years imagine her driving.
While he’d stood here counting bills, she’d made her getaway. Bran groaned and rubbed a hand over his face.
Maybe...she’d find him. If she’d even looked at his badge or opened his wallet, she had one up on him. She knew his last name and where he worked.
That was followed by the cold realization that if she didn’t come looking, it meant she didn’t want to be found, either.
And he had to honor that.
Pocketing the badge and wallet, he glanced down and saw the corner of a piece of paper sticking out from beneath the dresser. The maid could pick it up. Bran dropped a ten-dollar bill on the dresser, then walked out, feeling a couple decades older than he had a few days ago.
WITH