the pillow and dug his knuckles into his eyes.
Haley felt her cheeks burn at the sight of his wide chest, covered with crisp, dark hair. A new wave of humiliation washed over her. “This is your room?”
He gazed around, then pushed his fingers through his hair and shrugged. “No, I guess it’s not. Is it yours?”
“Of course not!” Hot indignation burned in her. She couldn’t bear another second of this.
Haley scrambled from the bed, clutching her shirt closed as a fresh tide of embarrassment engulfed her. Her gown lay on the floor, beside his trousers. One of his socks rested atop her stocking. Her petticoat hung from a chair, with his undershirt draped over it.
Mortified, Haley bent to retrieve her stocking, then remembered that the shirt she wore barely covered her thighs. She froze and glanced back over her shoulder. He lay propped against the pillow, the sheet barely covering him, one arm resting casually over his drawn-up knee, watching her and looking comfortable and relaxed, as if he woke every morning of his life in a strange bed with a strange woman beside him.
Cautiously she bent at the knees and snatched up her stocking, then rushed around the room, grabbing her clothing. Then she dashed into the bathroom and slammed the door.
Her head throbbed painfully and her stomach rolled as she stood by the sink, trembling. How could this have happened? She’d had only one thing on her mind when she left San Francisco, and that would be scandalous enough if word ever got out.
She had no notion of where she was or how she’d gotten here, but one thing was certain. She was leaving immediately, and would never lay eyes on that man or this place again.
Haley dropped her bundle of clothing on the tile floor—evening wear from the wedding she’d attended yesterday with Aunt Harriet. Haley shuddered at the thought of going out in public now, with no hat, no gloves, exposing her bare shoulders at midday. What would Aunt Harriet say?
She didn’t care. She would get to the safety of her aunt’s house and bribe the kitchen servants to let her sneak inside. She’d climb up the rose trellis, if she had to.
As Haley frantically sorted through her clothing, her heart sank into the depths of her churning stomach. Not everything was here. In her haste, she’d left some of her clothing in the other room. And that would mean parading around the bedchamber again, with those deep green eyes scrutinizing her every movement. Haley slumped against the wall.
A soft knock sounded on the door. Haley jumped. It was him. What if he came in after her? What if he wouldn’t let her leave?
His deep voice came from the other side of the door. “You left your handbag. I thought you’d need it.”
Haley tossed the tangled mass of hair off her shoulder. She needed her handbag desperately. Drawing in a deep breath, she stood behind the door and opened it slightly.
Her purse passed through the opening. “I found it on the table.”
She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”
“This was by the door.” A silk stocking appeared.
She pulled it from his fingers.
“On the bureau.” Her corset dangled in the opening.
She gasped and snatched it away.
“Under the covers.” Pink ruffled drawers passed through.
Haley stared, horrified, at the garment and mumbled a fervent prayer that the floor would open and swallow her whole.
“That’s all I found…so far.”
It was enough. Haley pushed the door closed and dug through her purse. She found her comb and twisted her hair into a simple chignon. The fasteners on her gown were nearly impossible without help from her maid, but she closed as many of them as she could. She dared not look at herself in the mirror. Pulling herself up to her greatest height, Haley walked into the bedchamber again.
Jingling coins drew her attention to the window. Hands thrust deep in his pockets, the man stood looking outside, his profile outlined by the bright, sunlit sky. He wore tan trousers and a sleeveless undershirt that molded itself to his tight belly and wide chest; dark hair curled above the scooped neck. His shoulders were straight, his arms muscular.
Haley held up the white linen shirt she’d brought from the bathroom and willed herself not to blush. “This must belong to you.”
He accepted it and dropped it on the table in front of the window. “I think we’re at the Madison.”
“A hotel?” Haley peered out the window at the trolley cars, horses and carriages on the street below. Her stomach rolled violently. “We’re at a hotel?”
He nodded. “Do you need help with your gown?”
Stunned by the familiarity of his offer, she looked up at him sharply. “No—I…”
He stepped behind her. “We can’t have you walking through the lobby with your gown undone. People might get the wrong idea.”
She felt his hands against her back as he closed the fasteners. Her skin tingled at his touch.
He stepped away and slid his hand into his pocket again, jingling his coins. “Do you want me to have breakfast sent up for you?”
Haley pressed her palm against her stomach. “No, no, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat again.”
“Head hurt, too?”
She looked up at him. “Yes. How did you know?”
“You have a hangover. What you need is another drink.” He rubbed his forehead. “And so do I.”
Her back stiffened. “I do not drink. Why, I only took one sip of champagne yesterday to toast the bride and groom. After that, I only drank the punch.”
“You were at the wedding?”
“Yes, I was.”
He gazed down critically. “As an invited guest?”
Her chin went up a notch, and she clamped her mouth shut. He didn’t need to know that her aunt was a friend of the bride’s family. Nor did he need to learn that she had arrived in Sacramento less than a week ago, escaping the fiasco in San Francisco that had turned her own mother against her and set her on an unexpected path.
He shrugged. “Well, remember not to drink the punch at any more weddings. It’s the best way to avoid a hangover—and a lot of other things, too.”
Haley pinched the bridge of her nose and drew in a deep breath. So, she’d gotten drunk out of her mind and fallen into bed with a strange man. How humiliating.
Pulling together the last shreds of her dignity, Haley looked up at him. “I’m leaving, Mr.—”
He gave her a stiff bow. “Adam Harrington, at your service, madam.”
“Harrington?” Haley thought she might faint now. He was a member
