hard look. “No, I think you’re the one who doesn’t know the rules, especially with the amount of Scotch you’ve been giving her,” he said, glancing back at Peyton, and seeing the glassy look in her eyes.
“He was just being nice, Angelo,” she said softly, smiling. “I’m here to have a good time, right?”
“Right, but I think you’ve had too much of a good time for now.”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, I think so, too.” Then she leaned in closer. He ignored how good she smelled and listened attentively when she whispered, “I’m beginning to feel sick.”
“Then, let me get you to your room,” he said, standing.
“Hey, look here, buddy,” the man said angrily.
Angelo turned stony eyes on him. “No, you look,” he said in a steely voice, trying to keep it down so as not to cause a scene. But if he had to, he would. “You were deliberately trying to get her drunk. Now, I suggest you haul ass before I kick yours.”
The man was about to open his mouth to say something when one of the resort’s well-dressed, no-nonsense security men approached. “Is there a problem, Mr. Di Meglio?”
Angelo glanced over at the resort’s security manager whose name was Saul. “No problem.”
He reached out and took Peyton’s hand and gently tugged her off the barstool to bring her to his side. “I’m escorting Ms. Mahoney to her room. You might want to go over the rules of the resort with these guys, regarding taking advantage of guests by getting them drunk.”
With Peyton nestled close to his side, he began shouldering his way through the crowd. Behind him he heard the man ask Saul in a pissed-off voice, “Just who the hell does he think he is?”
Saul’s response was short and direct. “He’s one of the owners.”
* * *
“Do you need me to help you undress?”
If Angelo had meant to snap her out of her tipsy state he certainly succeeded with that question, Peyton thought, drawing in a quick breath and glancing across the room at him.
She’d just stepped out of the bathroom, after voiding her stomach of the Scotch she’d drank earlier. She’d stayed in the bathroom a few minutes longer, wiping a warm cloth across her face, brushing her teeth and gargling. She felt a little better, but not a whole lot, and knew that in the morning she would probably have a doozy of a headache.
What on earth had made her drink that much when she knew she couldn’t handle it? She’d always known her limits. Overindulging had never been her thing, and she would get upset at anyone who did.
“Peyton?”
It was then that she realized she hadn’t responded to Angelo’s bizarre question. And maybe it wasn’t so bizarre considering how sick she’d been moments ago in the bathroom. There was no doubt he’d heard it and probably figured she’d almost died in the bathroom.
“No thanks, I can manage,” she said, entering the room on wobbly legs and dropping down in the nearest chair.
Mac and Sam hadn’t just given her a room at Dunwoody Cove. They had given her the mother of all luxury suites. She could have probably fit her modest-size apartment in here. She couldn’t believe the view she had of the ocean from her balcony, as well as how expensive the furniture looked. And the closets were big enough to accommodate a family of four.
“You sure?”
Rubbing her temples as she already felt a headache coming on, she met his gaze. “Positive. But thanks for asking.”
“You’re welcome.”
A few seconds passed, and then he said, “All right then. Do you want to talk about it?”
She dropped her hand down in her lap and couldn’t help the smile that touched her lips. Sam would always tell them how whenever she got in trouble about anything, Angelo would begin their discussion by asking that question. Do you want to talk about it?
“There’s really nothing to discuss, Angelo.” Bottom line, she’d made a fool of herself tonight. No big deal. No harm done. She drew in a deep breath knowing that it was a big deal since it was so unlike her. She glanced down at herself and decided to blame it on the dress.
She had found enough courage to wear one of the outfits she’d bought shopping with Mac and Sam last week. For once, she had let Sam talk her into buying a couple of things she normally wouldn’t have purchased.
She wasn’t vain, but she had to admit the dress looked pretty damn good on her. When she had walked into the ballroom and noticed the attention several men had given her, her head had swelled a little. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn something that had turned a man’s head, mainly because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone out of her way to impress anyone. That wasn’t her style.
She could only assume the reason the attention had gotten to her was because she was going through this almost-over-the-hill, turning-thirty crisis. She was enjoying her last few days in her twenties, and it had been pretty heady stuff to draw the attention away from women a few years younger than she was.
“You are aware that that man was deliberately trying to get you drunk?”
Yes, she knew and would have eventually called him out on it. But dammit, she had enjoyed being the center of attention. And the Scotch had brought her out of her shell and made the never-have-anything-to-say-except-in-the-courtroom Peyton Mahoney more sociable. Besides, she figured she could handle the amount of Scotch he’d been giving her. She hadn’t expected her system to react so adversely, so soon.
“You’re not falling asleep on me, are you, Peyton?”
She chuckled at the thought and rested her head back against the sofa cushions. What woman in her right mind would fall asleep on DeAngelo Antonio Di Meglio, the “Italian Hellion,” and one of the most gorgeous men to walk the face of the earth?
“No, I’m wide-awake,” she said, glancing over at him.
He was still standing, and she couldn’t help the way her gaze scanned him up and down. He was amazingly tall and so well-built that when he walked into a room, women did a double take before going slack-jawed and drooling. She’d done that very thing the first time Sam had taken her and Mac home for the holidays. As soon as she’d seen Angelo, she’d immediately thought that Sam had one fine brother. The Di Meglio cousins, Damon and Maddox, were eye candy as well, but there had been something about Angelo that had managed to swoosh air from her lungs whenever she saw him. The man was so incredibly handsome it made her eyes hurt just looking at him.
It might have been the beautiful, even tone of his chestnut-colored skin, or the gorgeous dark eyes that could hypnotize anyone. Or it could be the sharp angle of his nose, which bore his Italian ancestry, or his luscious-looking lips. His face was clean-shaven and his hair was cut low in the front but longer in the back so that the silky strands of his hair grazed the collar of his shirt. Tonight his hair had a rugged, unkempt look that made him appear even sexier. And last but not least, there was that diamond stud in his ear.
“Maybe I need to undress you, after all, and get you in the bed.”
She
