Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
She pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead. The sharp throb in her temples was too much.
After forcing her eyes open, she clutched the sheet to her chest and rolled to her side. “What the hell?” A glass of tomato juice with two red pills at her bedside table had her sitting upright.
It was then that she noticed the sound of running water from the en-suite. “No.” She rushed her free hand over her mouth and gasped.
Did I . . .? She scrambled to remember the night, but the last thing that came to mind was dancing with Owen.
She lifted the sheet and confirmed her nakedness.
“Uh, hello?” It hurt too much to talk. To think.
She was in hangover hell.
And then it dawned on her.
Her fade-to-black night was a result of the emergency prescription of Valium she used to calm her nerves while flying.
Ironically, she’d managed to skip it on the flight, but when she’d arrived at the hotel and bumped into Owen, she’d freaked out and popped one in her room before heading down to the bar.
But, oh God.
Would he forgive her when he discovered she’d kept her identity from him last night? How would he react when she showed him the photo from the envelope?
The photo. God, it’s why I’m here, and now . . .
She tried to capture her memories, but it was like trying to snatch puffs of smoke in the air—everything after their bar chat slipped through her fingers.
Jason’s brother. No. She pressed her closed hands to her eyes.
The water stopped a moment later, and the sound of steps had her heart in her throat.
“You’re awake. How’d you sleep?”
His voice. Had it been this sexy last night? Low and deep?
No wonder she’d lost her senses and slept with him. Tequila and a hot guy were never a good mix.
Maybe it was a good thing she didn’t remember.
She forced her eyes on him, finding him standing with a towel wrapped around his hips as he rubbed another smaller one against his hair to dry his longish blond locks.
She vaguely remembered his hair being closely cropped when they’d met ten years ago. Last night, she was pretty sure it had nearly brushed the collar of his shirt.
He’d packed on more muscles, too. Where he’d been leaner in the past, his V-shaped physique, hard chest, and six-pack were like heaven in a bottle now.
Why him? Anyone but him.
She was there for answers, for help. Not for a one-night stand with the brother of Brad’s best friend. No. No. No!
She hadn’t talked yet, and now, he was approaching her with a beautiful smirk on his face.
“That’s a Bloody Mary.” He tipped his chin toward the bedside table. “Drink it with the two ibuprofens; it should help with the hangover I’m sure you’ve got.”
“That was my old remedy during my party days.” The party days she had to hide from her overbearing parents, as well as from the rest of the watchful eye of D.C. politicians and the press.
She reached for the Bloody Mary but kept one arm over her chest to hold the sheet in place.
He cocked his head and observed her with a smile in his eyes. His face was more angular than square, but his jaw was definitely chiseled. Strength just poured from every fiber of the man, even from his mouth.
“I hope you don’t mind me taking a shower here,” he said. “I didn’t want to be one of those guys to leave you waking in bed alone, especially if you didn’t feel good.”
And, of course, he had to be a nice guy. But would he still be charming after he discovered who she was? “Thanks.”
She took a sip of the drink and forced her eyes back onto his. A swirl of colors danced within his irises, making for an incredible and unique shade, a shade she could get lost in.
This wasn’t like her. Drunken one-night stands had happened. Sure. But lusting after the guy the next morning? Nope. She was normally the one to disappear before sun-up.
Owen York. How can this be happening? At thirty-two, she was an accomplished and sophisticated woman, but right now, she felt like she was fourteen, in braces, with her awkward, long legs that didn’t match the rest of her body yet.
“You okay?” He sat next to her, which had her scooting over, still hanging on to the sheet in a desperate attempt to reclaim the sense of modesty a McCarthy was supposed to have.
Of course, she’d never been the poster child for the McCarthy “brand” as her mother liked to call it, especially after she’d broken down after Brad’s death.
She lowered her brows in thought, observing his hazel eyes. How could she have ever forgotten that color?
A memory of their brief conversation ten years ago at the funeral found its way into her mind.
I’ll have someone check in on you. Look after you. I promise, Owen had said, and his stunning eyes had appeared haunted at the time.
“Um. The thing is, I don’t remember sleeping with you.” Her forehead creased, the pain in her skull intensifying.
Owen pressed a palm to his cheek and eyed her with a dash of amusement in his eyes. “I was worried about that.” His nose wrinkled a little. “So, uh, we didn’t end up having sex.”
“But I’m naked, and you’re naked. Well, beneath that towel, anyway.”
“I realized how drunk you were at the last second, and somehow, I managed to come to my senses, even though I was fairly shit-faced, too.”
She pointed at his naked chest. His oh, so gorgeous naked chest. “That doesn’t explain the nudity.”
“Well, I was still drunk, and so we kind of passed out next to each other before we had a chance to get dressed.”
A major sigh of relief fell from her lips. “Thank you.” She shook her head. “Not every guy would’ve done the same.”
“I’m not gonna lie. I really wanted to. I mean, turning you down while you were naked and begging me . . .”
Her eyes widened to the point of pain. “What? I begged?”
He chuckled and held his index finger and thumb close to his face to showcase an inch. “A little, yeah.”
She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, but at least she’d forgotten about the pain in her skull. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if we’d hooked up, and you hadn’t been in the right state of mind at the time.” He stood. “I mean, the first time we’re together, I want you to remember every detail.”
The first time? But she didn’t have it in her to tell him there could never be any time.
She needed to tell him the truth, but it didn’t feel like the time or place.
“I called down to the desk, and they said I could get a sailboat for the day. There was a cancelation, and so I was wondering if you’d like to sail with me?”
“Oh.” She could tell him there, couldn’t she? “Yeah, okay. What time?”
“Will an hour be enough time to get ready?”
“I’m not a girl who takes that long.” She smiled. “But the hangover cure might.”
He grinned. “Sounds good. Meet you in the lobby at eleven.” He grabbed his strewn clothes off the floor and went to change in the bathroom.
She fell back onto the pillow and stared at the ceiling. When her best friend heard about this, she’d have a field day over it.
A flash from the night before popped into her head, and a memory of the kiss on the dance floor tore through her mind at lightning speed.
Her fingers brushed over her mouth, and her thighs squeezed.
Owen was one hell of a kisser. Maybe even the king of it.
“Well, I’ll let you get situated,” he said, once back in the room in his jeans and tee.
She sat back up and focused on his denim, and one of the questions from the previous night came to mind. “Boxers or briefs?” She arched a brow.
“Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”
“Is your new boyfriend at your place right now?” Sam asked her best friend, Emily, over FaceTime on her phone.
“No, Blane went to grab us coffee. You have the all clear to talk.”
She propped her phone up against the tissue box on the vanity then rushed out, “Owen and I slept naked in bed together last night.” She took a step back, twisting her lips to the side as she waited for her friend to comprehend her words.
Emily pulled the phone closer to her face, her brown eyes widening. “What do you mean by you slept in bed naked together?”
“Naked but no sex. I don’t remember most of the night, though.”
Emily’s brows lifted. “Are you sure you believe nothing happened then?”
“Trust me, I’d know. I’d probably be sore if we had. It’s been forever since anything other than my vibrator has gone near me. Hell, I’m probably collecting dust.”
“And that’s your fault.” She pointed a finger at the screen. “Well, how much do you remember?”
“Almost everything before I began heavily drinking, but I definitely came across as a stranger, which will—”
“Piss him off when he discovers the truth.” Emily shook her head. “Surprised he didn’t recognize you.”
“I’m not. It’s been ten years, and he could barely look at me at the funeral. He spoke to me for all of thirty seconds and then was out of sight.” She tensed. “I should’ve told him who I am last night. I never meant for things to go down like they did. I didn’t expect he’d be so . . .”
“‘So’ what?”
“Funny. Sweet. Sexy.”
“Shit, Sam. Why’d I tell you where to find him?”
She thought back to Emily’s lecture before she’d booked the flight. “Yeah, well, this wasn’t on that long list you made of things that could go wrong.”
“Well, I guess I should’ve considered this when trying to talk you off the ledge of jetting to Mexico to find him.”
Sam tipped her head heavenward, trying to gather her thoughts. Ever since she opened the envelope on Wednesday, her mind had been spinning nonstop with possibilities as to why she was given the picture. “You’re normally such a stickler for protocol. Surprised you helped me.”
“I may work for the AG, but look at your own job. If someone finds out . . .”
“I know, I know. But how could I not track Owen down?” She pinched her cheeks, realizing she needed some color to distract from her partially bloodshot eyes.
“You still have no idea if he can help you, or if he’ll even want you to help when he learns the truth.”
The truth . . . The truth was such a messy thing.