had a lot to discuss. He had no intention of letting her walk away with no plans for the future. She was his to protect, to love, to cherish. That much he knew. He thought she knew it, too.
They’d plan a future. They’d compromise. Somehow they’d find a way to be together. Because Briana…he suddenly realized he didn’t even know her last name. But he’d take care of that detail. Finally he’d found the one woman in the world who made his life complete. They’d find a way to be together.
After rubbing his lips over hers, he slid from the bed and searched for his clothing. He found everything but one of the studs for the tuxedo shirt. He smiled as he remembered Briana dispensing with them recklessly. He’d loved that about her. She was an enthusiastic lover, making him feel wanted, a great aphrodisiac.
Longingly, he stared once more at her sprawled under the sheet with which he’d covered her. As tired as he was, he wanted to make love to her all over again. And he suspected he’d feel that way the rest of his life.
He whispered, “I’ll be back soon, sweetheart.” Then he left her hotel room to climb the flight of stairs at the end of the corridor. He was on the next floor. Not far away. He hurried, unable to stand being away from her any longer than he had to.
THE BUZZING of an alarm awakened Briana from a deep sleep. She flailed at the noise and found the snooze button, she supposed, because the noise stopped. She drifted back to sleep.
Five minutes later, the noise repeated itself. This time she opened her eyes, barely, and noted the time. Eight-o-five. She sat up in bed. Her flight left La-Guardia Airport at nine-forty-five. She needed to catch a taxi by eight-thirty. She’d set the alarm last night before she ventured out of the hotel. She leapt from the bed and suddenly realized she was naked. A flood of memories held her frozen as the events of the night and, in particular, the morning hit her.
She’d made love to Hunter!
She looked around the room as if expecting him to pop out from behind the dresser. He’d left? Disappeared? Or had she dreamed the entire thing?
She really didn’t know. She was still exhausted and wasn’t thinking too clearly. She moved toward the bathroom, sure a shower would help, when she winced in pain and hopped on her left foot. Bending down, she discovered a stud for a tuxedo shirt in the carpet.
So, it hadn’t been a dream. Hunter had come in with her and they’d made love. Or maybe they’d just had sex. He certainly appeared to have made a fast exit. There was no note. Nothing.
Briana threw herself in the shower for a fast rinse-off. There was no time to wash her hair. She put on the sweater and jeans again, with fresh underwear, thrust the last few things in the bag and gathered her belongings.
In the meantime, her mind was searching for some kind of explanation for Hunter’s behavior. He’d been such a gentleman. But leaving with no word, no pretense even of a future, almost destroyed her. Did he care nothing about her? Had she been so misled by his behavior that she’d completely misread his character?
She couldn’t call his room and ask him because the only name she had was Hunter. She’d assumed that was his first name, but she didn’t know.
She stared at the phone, tempted to try anyway, but she knew she didn’t have time. She was going to have to chalk the bizarre night and even stranger morning to experience and go catch her plane.
As she stood in the doorway for a long moment, tears came to her eyes. She’d thought this morning she’d found something special. But like so many women, she’d been misled by a handsome face and broad shoulders. And a gentle touch and blue eyes to die for.
What a jerk!
HALF AN HOUR later, Hunter hurried down the stairs again. He was feeling much better, even though he still hadn’t had much sleep. But he’d showered and shaved and changed into jeans and shirt, sports shoes, comfortable again. And he was looking forward to breakfast with Briana.
He hoped she’d gotten enough rest. It was just past eight-thirty, and he didn’t want to wait too long to wake her up. His flight left at two, but he didn’t know her schedule. He wanted to spend time with her before they had to be parted for however long it took for him to arrange his schedule. To work out their lives.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and started whistling as he reached her floor. It was a glorious day. When he’d arrived at the conference, he’d had a lousy attitude. He hadn’t been happy lately. Now, he was on top of the world. One of the maids had her cart in the hallway near Briana’s room, and Hunter greeted her cheerfully.
He passed her and reached Bri’s room, and began to knock on the door. He hoped he could wake her. She slept so soundly.
“No one’s there.”
He whirled around, realizing it was the maid speaking.
Smiling, he explained, “No, she’s there. She’s a sound sleeper.”
The maid shook her head. “No, they just called me from downstairs to clean the room. She checked out a few minutes ago.”
The smile on his face disappeared. “No, you’re wrong. She’s still sleeping.”
The maid shrugged her shoulders and turned away. Hunter formed a fist and beat on the door now, determined to awaken Briana.
“Here, I’ll open the door.”
He found the maid beside him, a look of sympathy on her face.
“Thanks. I’ll wake her up.”
He pushed into the room, only to find it empty. The bed with the sheets in disarray, the closet empty, nothing in the bathroom. No note.
“Where is she?” he demanded harshly, turning to the maid.
His expression must’ve frightened her because she backed up a step. “I told you. She checked out a few minutes ago.”
“No, she wouldn’t have just left! There’s some mistake.” He searched the room again for some minute piece of evidence that would tell him something—anything about Briana. But there was nothing.
“Sorry, sir.” The maid stayed pressed against the wall, trying to keep out of his way.
“Thanks,” he managed as he left the room and ran for the elevators. As soon as he reached the main floor, he hurried over to the front desk. “A woman named Briana, from room 812, just checked out?”
“Yes, sir. Miss McCallum left for the airport about twenty minutes ago.” The young man behind the desk smiled, pleased to serve a customer properly.
“McCallum? Briana McCallum?”
“Yes, sir. I helped her myself.”
Now why did that name sound familiar? McCallum. Then he remembered. Maitland Maternity Hospital, the famous maternity hospital in Austin, Texas, was opening a new wing, a state-of-the-art facility specializing in multiple births. The McCallum Wing, dedicated to the donor’s wife, who’d died in childbirth. Administered by the donor’s daughter. It had been the main gossip of the conference, heightened by questions about her competency. Most everyone figured she was a rich woman playing at being a do-gooder. He usually gave people the benefit of the doubt,
