Chapter 3 #2
“Where do you want me to put my stuff?” He drew in a deep breath and let it out. “And don’t say where the sun doesn’t shine. I’m staying until the danger is past. If you don’t want me to sleep with you, I can sleep on the couch. But I’d prefer to ditch my bag in your room, if you don’t mind.”
Alana’s eyes narrowed, and she seemed to chew on her words before she answered. “Fine. Put the bag in my room. And no, you’re not sleeping with me.”
He nodded his head. “Although, since we’ve already consummated our marriage?—”
She frowned and huffed out, “We’re not married.”
At least she didn’t yell that time. Chase grinned. Maybe she was getting used to the idea.
His smile faded. Not that he was interested in continuing the insanity of married life, but he could be worse off.
Alana was a pretty blonde. And he must have seen something in her last night to have gone so far as to marry her.
His curiosity piqued, he vowed to discover what it was that had pushed him into agreeing to marry her when he’d been shit-faced drunk.
He opened his duffel bag and pulled out his dark trousers and one of the polo shirts Trevor had insisted he needed to wear in Cabo. Chase preferred a T-shirt or a cotton button-up, but the polo shirt might be better for daytime investigations.
He walked to Alana’s room and knocked on the doorframe. “Mind if I use the bathroom to shower and change?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Would it matter if I did?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I could ask to use Gina’s?”
Alana inhaled and let go of a long, steadying breath. “No. You can use mine after I shower.”
“Thanks. Let me know when you’re done. I’ll need to let my buddy know I’ve switched rooms.”
“What buddy?”
“Trevor Anderson, another former Navy SEAL. He might come in handy if Text Dude decides to get physical.”
“Don’t forget Carson,” Gina said from the other bedroom. “Three Navy SEALs ought to be able to put the hurt on one cartel thug.”
“I’m not worried about one cartel thug,” Chase said. “I’m more concerned about a gang of them.”
The musical sound of a text message reminder jingled from Gina’s room.
Chase stiffened.
“Uh, Mags and Chase…” Gina emerged from her room, carrying shorts and a shirt in one hand and staring down at her smartphone screen in the other. “Text Dude isn’t happy that we haven’t responded in an hour.”
Alana set her suitcase full of lingerie on the floor and crossed to where Gina stood. “What did he say?”
Gina handed her the phone.
I know where your friend is staying.
If she wants to live, her husband better show.
“Alana, this problem isn’t going away. He knows where you are.” Gina hugged her friend. “Thankfully, your husband is here to save the day.” She gave Chase a chin lift. “Get to saving, Frogman.”
“All joking aside, I’m on it.” He captured Alana’s gaze. “You’re up first in the shower.”
“Trust me, I won’t be long. The sooner we resolve this mess, the better.” Alana grabbed the shorts and shirt Gina provided and ran for the shower.
Chase didn’t like that the threat knew where they were. They’d have to employ escape-and-evasion techniques to stay one step ahead of their predator. If Chase were the only one involved, he’d circle back and confront his aggressor, but he had a wife to consider.
Wife.
Holy hell, what had happened last night that he’d chucked his vow to remain a bachelor and committed to embrace an entirely different set of vows?
Alana closed the bathroom door and quickly shed her dress, hanging it on the back of the door.
Considering it was her only decent outfit for the duration of her stay in Cabo, she had to make sure it remained clean and unwrinkled.
She hadn’t asked and cringed to think about it, but she hadn’t located her panties in Chase’s bedroom.
Hell, maybe he was the creepy type and kept a pair of underwear from every woman he slept with.
A kind of trophy. Sheesh, what had she been thinking last night?
In the shower, she squirted a handful of shampoo into her hand, the shiny ring on her finger giving her pause.
How in the hell had she ended up marrying a man she’d only just met? She’d heard that Mexican tequila was potent, but damn. Somebody must have spiked her drink. And Chase seemed as surprised as she’d been. Could it be his drink had been laced with the same crazy drug as well?
If she could believe him. After being ditched at the altar by Vanishing Vance, she wasn’t sure she could trust any man.
Then why had she trusted Chase enough to marry him last night?
She scrubbed her hair, as if by doing so, she could scrub the man, the marriage and the texting threat out of existence. Unfortunately, the situation wouldn’t be that easy to resolve. She rinsed her hair, cleaned her body, the hot water soothing some of the tension in her shoulders.
Gina was right about one thing. Chase Flannigan was hot.
If Alana were interested in a relationship, she might go for a man like him.
The fact was that she wasn’t interested in starting something new.
Not now. It didn’t seem right that two days before, she’d been happily preparing for her wedding to another man—a man her father had approved of.
That should have been her first warning.
All the wedding decisions had fallen on Vance as Alana had been too busy with her job to take the time to pick out napkin colors, cake flavors, florals and the millions of other things her fiancé had wanted in their wedding.
Vance had let her choose the place for the honeymoon, and she’d made all those arrangements.
Alana had laid out all of the plans for their lives together.
First the marriage, then the honeymoon, followed by house hunting and settling into married life with children in the near future.
At the ripe old age of twenty-eight, Alana was finally ready to settle down.
Marriage was the next step. Hell, all her friends, except Gina, had been married for years and had one or two children by now.
She felt as if her biological clock was like a time bomb ready to blow up in her face if she didn’t get on with her adult life.
Looking back, perhaps she’d pushed too hard for that picture-perfect life.
She thought she’d loved Vance. But other than being embarrassed and pissed off, she wasn’t disappointed the wedding had been called off.
She was more disappointed that she wasn’t getting on with her plan to be married with children before she turned thirty.
On the flight down to Mexico, she’d realized she’d set herself up for the collapse.
The big three-O was going to happen with or without a husband and children.
Why was she so afraid of it? God, she’d almost married the wrong man just to put a check in the boxes of “married” and “children.” Not only would she have been miserable with Vance, but he would also have been miserable with her.
She should thank the wedding planner for taking him.
Then why had she turned around and married the first man she’d met in Mexico? It made absolutely no sense. Had she seen something in Chase she hadn’t found in Vance?
Chase was a lot better looking, in a rugged, manly-man way.
He was more muscular, taller and stronger.
He’d held her pinned to the bed. No matter how she’d fought, she hadn’t been able to break free of his grip.
Vance couldn’t have done that as easily.
Thinking of Chase straddling her, holding her wrists tight in his, while his naked body was pressed against her naked body, sent a shiver of lust through her still.
Though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, Chase was hung a helluva lot better than Vance.
He’d please her much more in bed than Vance ever had.
Sex with Vance had been, at best, mediocre.
Now that she knew Chase hadn’t been attacking her, she could appreciate his…
uh…well…package. Her body heated at the memory.
It was a shame she couldn’t remember their lovemaking.
She ran her hand down her torso to the juncture of her thighs and touched that little strip of nerve-packed flesh.
Was it her imagination, or was she a little sensitive down there?
She fingered herself, and her breath caught.
Oh, yes. She was sensitive. Drawing her finger down lower to the entrance of her channel, she poked a finger inside.
There, too, she was a little more sensitive than usual.
The condoms in the wastebasket were pretty damning proof they’d had sex.
Her sensitive girly parts only evidenced what she’d thought impossible.
She’d had sex with Chase. Not once, but twice. And she couldn’t remember a thing. Her curiosity made her wish she could. The only saving grace to her lack of memory was his total lack of the same memory.