down her body. How had she gotten out of the pool? And why was she naked? She didn’t remember going back to her room, didn’t remember anything but that last moment where she’d thought of the Correttis finding her pink-clad body trapped at the bottom of the pool.
She pushed the sheet back, intending to get out of the bed, but a movement in the darkness arrested her.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a deep male voice said.
Lia grabbed the sheet and yanked it back up. How long had he been standing there?
“Who are you? And why are you in my room?”
His laugh was dry. “I’m Zach. And you’re in my room, sugar.”
Sugar. “You’re American,” she said, her heart thumping steadily. The same American as earlier?
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?”
“You sound disappointed.”
She shook her head, stopping when her brain couldn’t quite keep up. She felt light-headed, as if she’d been drinking, when she hadn’t had more than a single glass of champagne all evening.
“How did I get here?”
“I carried you.”
“Impossible,” she scoffed. She was tall and awkward and fat. He couldn’t have done it without a cart and a team of horses to pull her.
“Clearly not,” he told her. “Because you’re here.”
“But why?” The last thing she remembered was water and darkness.
Wait, that wasn’t right. There’d also been light, a hard surface under her back and the scalding taste of chlorine in her throat.
“Because you begged me not to call anyone when I pulled you out of the pool.”
She vaguely recalled it. She remembered that she’d been worried about anyone seeing her, about them laughing and pointing. About Carmela standing there, slim arms folded, evil face twisted in a smirk, nodding and laughing … fat and mousy and weak.
“It was the only thing you said. Repeatedly,” he added, and Lia wanted to hide.
She put a hand to her head. Her hair was still damp, though not soaked. And she was naked. Utterly, completely naked. Her face flamed.
He sat beside her on the bed, holding out a glass of water. “Here, take this,” he said, his voice gentle.
She looked up, met his gaze—and her heart skipped several beats in a row. It was the same man. He had dark eyes, a hard jaw and the beginnings of a scruff where he hadn’t shaved in hours. His hair was cropped short, almost military style, and his lips were just about the sexiest thing she’d ever seen in her life.
She took the water and drank deeply, choking when she’d had too much. He grabbed the glass and set it aside, no doubt ready to pound her on the back if she needed it. She held a hand up, stopping him before he could do so.
“I’m fine,” she squeaked out. “Thank you.”
He sat back and watched her carefully. “Are you certain?”
She looked at him again—and realized his expression was full of pity. Pity! It was almost more than she could bear to have one more person look at her like that tonight.
“Yes.”
“You were lucky tonight,” he said, his voice hardening. “Next time, there might not be anyone to pull you out.”
She knew he was trying to say something important, but she was too weary to figure out what it was. And then his meaning hit her.
“I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” she protested. “It was an accident.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I saw you step into the water. You just decided to go swimming while fully dressed?”
She dropped her gaze from his. “Something like that.” What would he know of it if she told him the real reason? He was beautiful, perfect. She’d thought they had something in common earlier tonight, but she’d been wrong.
Of course.
She usually was. It disappointed her more than she could say. And made her feel lonelier than ever. This man, whatever his flaws, had nothing in common with her. How could he?
“What’s your name?” he asked, his voice turning soft.
“Lia. And I hated my dress, if you must know. That’s why I jumped in the pool.”
His bark of laughter surprised her. “Then why did you buy it in the first place?”
“I didn’t. It was a bridesmaid dress, and it was hideous.”
“Pink is not your color, I’m sorry to say.” His voice was too warm to take offense. “Definitely not.” She was slightly confused, given his reaction to her earlier, and more than a little curious about him. It occurred to her she should be apprehensive to be alone with a strange man, in his room, while she was naked beneath his sheets.
But she wasn’t. Paradoxically, he made her feel safe. As if he would stand between her and the world if she asked him to. It wasn’t true, of course, but it was a nice feeling for the moment.
“I’m afraid I couldn’t save the dress,” he said. “It tore in the drain, and the rest rather disintegrated once I tried to remove it.”
She felt heat creeping into her cheeks again. “You removed everything, I see.”
“Yes, sorry, but I didn’t want you soaking my sheets. Or getting sick from lying around in cold, clammy clothing.”
What did she say to that? Did you like what you saw? Thank you? I hope you weren’t terribly inconvenienced?
It was the most benign thing she could think of. She’d tucked it into her cleavage when she’d returned to the ballroom. She would regret it if it were lost. Something about it had seemed important to her, even if he’d cast it aside so easily.
“I did.”
“Why did you drop it?” It seemed a harmless topic. Far safer than the subject of her body, no doubt.
“I have my reasons,” he said coolly.
Lia waited, but he didn’t say anything else. “If you intend to throw it away again, I’ll keep it.” She didn’t know where that had come from, but she meant it. It seemed wrong to throw something like that away.
“It’s yours if you want it,” he said after a taut moment in which she thought she saw regret and anger scud across his handsome face.
She sensed there were
