for a couple of aspirin. In fact, after moving her head again, ever so slightly, she quickly decided that maybe she needed three of the painkillers, instead. Not to mention, a cold ice pack placed right at a certain spot on her forehead.
Obviously this, her last day of vacation in Acapulco, wasn’t going to be one of her better days. She had come here from her hometown of San Diego five days ago for a badly-needed rest and, since her arrival, had purposefully kept a low profile. In fact, she couldn’t understand what she could’ve possibly done last night that would warrant her having such a terrible headache first thing this morning. After all, since it was her last night of vacation, she’d simply gone to dinner with Gabriel Lafleur, the farmer from Louisiana who had somehow become her touring partner over the past few days. Sure, he was one sexy-looking man, and she had let herself relax for the first time in—What?—Years?—and enjoy his company. But that’s all it was. One night of fun. Now it was over with. She just wished her headache was, too.
If only she could’ve found the courage to pry open her eyelids, climb out of bed and walk over to where her luggage was to see if she had brought along any painkillers with her.
If only she could collect her thoughts.
But the truth of the matter was, it hurt too much for her to try to think straight right now. In fact, losing consciousness would’ve been a blessing at this point. Unfortunately, though, it was obvious that she wasn’t going to be given that luxury.
Suddenly a brief flash of memory from her actions last night crossed Joelle’s mind and she recalled herself dancing in a little, quaint, out-of-the-way cantina. And there was laughter. Lots and lots of laughter. And she and Gabriel Lafleur having a couple of shots of tequila at the crowded bar. At least, a couple. My goodness, she’d never drunk that much before in her life. Hadn’t the plan been to stop in for just one nightcap? Then what in the world had gotten into her to make her get so sidetracked?
Actually her recollection of last night was shaky, at best. It was as though the bitter pain in her head was deliberately blocking out her memory. What, she wondered, had she done between the time she and Gabriel had left the cantina and now? Maybe if she rang Gabriel’s room, which was two floors above her, he could fill in the missing pieces.
She groaned, again, this time after turning over and lying flat on her back. She’d never hurt this bad in her life. A second later she realized that she was completely naked under the sheet covering her—and an immediate alarm went off in her head. Uh-oh. She never slept nude. And she never drank too much, either. Something definitely wasn’t right.
Headache, or not, Joelle decided that it was time she faced the world and made sense of her surroundings. Rubbing her eyelids with the tips of her fingers, she finally found the will to force them open and stare at the ceiling in her hotel room. After a moment, she darted her eyes around the room. Exactly what she expected to find, she wasn’t sure. Then, just as her gaze fell upon a pair of men’s pants tossed across the back of a chair near her bed, the door to her bathroom swung open, and none other than Gabriel Lafleur, her dinner date from last night, stepped through it. His dark brown hair was wet and tousled, and he was naked except for the white towel that was wrapped around his waist. Joelle’s stomach did a flat-out bellybust dive for the floor.
As he strolled forward, his eyes lifted and met hers. Halting as though a steel wall had suddenly dropped down in front of him, he paused a moment before saying in a deep voice, “Well, good morning. I see you’ve finally awakened.”
Shocked speechless—not to mention, mindless— Joelle could only gape at him as her stomach tightened into knots. For a brief moment she thought the sudden wave of heat that swarmed over her and made her sick to her stomach would send her running right past him for the bathroom. As it was, the entire room seemed to fade momentarily before her eyes. She heard her own raspy intake of breath.
“Hey, come on, now. You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?” she heard him saying. It was enough to make her inhale deeply and, somehow, the room came back into focus.
By this time Gabriel Lafleur had already walked up to the foot of her bed and was now frowning down as if he halfway expected her to fall apart at the seams. She knew that look well. Her father always used it when he wanted to let her know that she’d somehow failed him, again. And, of course, according to her father, she was always failing him. In fact, if her father had had his wish when she was born thirty-one years ago, he would’ve been given a son to follow in his footsteps, not a daughter who seemed to falter every time she tried.
Joelle’s glare wavered momentarily. She felt vulnerable… naked…and mortified to the bone to have this man she hardly knew staring down at her and probably making snap judgments of her character— or, rather, her lack of it. Certainly he had no right to do that. After all, he hardly knew anything at all about her, other than the fact that she’d obviously made a huge mistake last night in thinking that he was a decent enough guy to have dinner with. Nonetheless, if he thought she was going to fall to pieces right there in front of him as if she was some weak little woman with no backbone, he was in for a big disappointment. She no longer gave her father the benefit of seeing her tears. Therefore, humiliated, or not, she wasn’t about to let this man see them, either. Instead she conjured up her best poker face and glared at him.
But, regardless of what she hoped was an Oscar winning performance on her part, the following moments grew increasingly difficult for Joelle. She stared in surprised defiance at Gabriel Lafleur…at his bare, lean, muscled chest, and at the way the dark curly hair at its center lay damp and matted against his tanned skin. Finally, having a will of their own, her eyes began following a drop of water as it slid downward, only to have it eventually soaked up by the hotel guest towel wrapped tightly around his slim waistline. Her throat felt suddenly dry…parched, and swallowing in that moment became difficult. Her eyes lifted to his and what she saw there made her realize that he was aware of her every thought. Finally, unable to deal with this reality for a second longer, she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that when she opened them, again, he would be gone.
Obviously her father had been right about her all along. Obviously there was a part of her that was too soft…too womanly, to hold up under the pressure of a man’s world. Surely, if she had any strength of character at all, she wouldn’t be in such a humiliating situation.
Joelle knew her prayers weren’t going to be answered when she felt him touch her arm and say, “Hey, are you going to be all right?” The feel of his warm fingers on her flesh startled her. Her eyes sprang wide open, and they stared at each other as if they were two cat burglars who were suddenly surprised to discover themselves on the same rooftop.
Eventually Joelle found her voice. “Of course, I’m going to be all right,” she snapped.
“Thank goodness for that,” he replied. “About all I need this morning is to find myself at the mercy of a woman in tears.”
“What are you doing in my room?” Joelle demanded, although, in truth, she feared she already knew the answer to that one. She was just hoping like everything that her gut instincts were wrong. But, one thing she knew for sure. He wasn’t going to find this woman in tears.
“Well…” Gabriel Lafleur said, now grinning down at her with white, even teeth and the most clear brown eyes she’d ever seen. He had wide, full lips that, even in the stark brightness of morning reality, beckoned to be kissed. He had high prominent cheekbones and a squared-off jawline, and a nose that flared slightly wider at the end. In essence, he was six feet of pure, unadulterated male. “I was…uh…just making myself at home,” he said, politely. He acted as though being in her hotel room was seemingly of no consequence to him. At least, not like it was to her. “Look, I hope you don’t mind that I used your shower,” he continued. “But under the
