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
