“Nope. Looks like we both got stranded here.”
“So where are you going to sleep?”
He shrugged. He hadn’t gotten that far in this crazy scheme. “After I know you’re settled, I can go back to the airport.”
She fumbled with the buttons on her blouse, leaving it gaping open, so that he could see the swell of her breasts in her black bra and the creamy flesh of her abdomen.
God help him, but he was getting turned on by a drunk woman.
But this wasn’t just any drunk woman. This was Blair. Blair. How many nights had he thought of her naked body, the feel of her beneath him as he filled her . . . But it didn’t matter what his body—or his mind—remembered. He wasn’t about to try anything with her. He respected her more than that.
She settled back onto the bed, her legs curled to the side, and stared up at the ceiling. “You can’t go to the airport.” She licked her bottom lip and then sighed. “You can stay here.”
“It’s your room, Blazer. Besides, you already said you weren’t going to have sex with me.”
She awkwardly reached over and patted the other side of the mattress. “It’s a big bed, and I’m a used pasture. You can sleep over there.”
He wanted to stay with her, but based on the way he couldn’t take his eyes off the curve of her hips in her skirt or her exposed cleavage, he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. “That is a very generous offer, but maybe I should head out now that you’re settled.” He could always grab some food at the airport. God knew, she could probably use both burgers after all the whiskey she’d downed.
She sat up and tears filled her eyes. “You’re leaving me again.”
Something in her voice ripped his heart to shreds. He’d sooner set himself on fire than make her feel that way again.
“No, Blair,” he said softly. “I’m not leaving you.” He moved to the bed and sat down next to her, wrapping his arm around her back and pulling her close. “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah.” But her eyes sunk closed.
They sat there for five minutes, Blair dozing against him as he cradled her to his chest. He closed his eyes and drank her in—the sight of her, the smell of her, the familiarity of her. The scab on his heart ripped open, leaving him bruised and raw. She only wore an engagement ring. That meant she probably wasn’t married yet. Maybe in the morning when she was sober, they could talk, and he could tell her everything—that he was an utter idiot, but he was miserable without her, and he’d do anything to win her back. Literally anything.
Maybe there was hope for them.
Room service knocked on the door, and he gently settled her back onto the bed before he signed for the food. He considered waking her to eat, but she looked so peaceful he couldn’t disturb her. He ate his burger while he checked his email and studied for his deposition in the morning, all the while sneaking glances at her. Watching her was surreal. He’d never expected to see her again, let alone have her on his bed. Of course, he’d prefer to have her doing other things in his bed, but the peace and happiness he felt in her mere presence was a telling sign of how he felt.
Soon her draw was too strong. He changed into a T-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts and carefully lay down on the bed next to her, both of them on top of the comforter. She stirred, and he studied her face, taking in every detail and committing it to memory in case she refused to listen to him, which, he realized, was the most likely scenario. Blair was firmly against second chances. The way she’d turned her back on her father was proof enough of that.
She sighed and rolled over again, pressing her back to his stomach. He held his breath, waiting for her to wake up and accuse him of trying to take advantage of her. But she soon stilled, pulling his arm tighter against her stomach. He breathed in her scent, drowning in memories. She still used the same vanilla-scented shampoo.
“I miss you, Garrett,” she mumbled, and he froze. If she hadn’t said his name, he would have thought she was talking about her fiancé/husband. But she had said his name. So he wasn’t the only one who still had feelings.
He could make this work. He’d figure out a way. Screw Neil’s damn wedding. Screw the Norfolk depositions. He’d stay here with her as long as it took to convince her to give him a second chance.
But when he woke the next morning, the room still dark, he was devastated to find her side of the bed empty.
Blair was gone.
Chapter Three
Blair leaned her head back against the seat on her flight to Kansas City. Tears stung her eyes, making her angry.
What the hell had happened?
She would have chalked it up to an alcohol-induced hallucination, but she was sober when the airline had texted at four-thirty—hung over, yes, but very sober. And there was no denying Garrett Lowry had been in her bed.
She’d panicked, bolting off the mattress and taking stock of her clothing. Skirt and blouse had both been on, if more than a little wrinkled, although the latter had been completely unbuttoned. All her undergarments had still been intact. The only things missing had been her shoes, which had been strewn on the floor. Even Garrett had been dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. She couldn’t remember much after seeing him at the bar, just bits and pieces. Something about horses and lawsuits, which made no sense. She vaguely remembered a woman telling her there wasn’t a room for her after all. So how had she ended up in a room with Garrett? Oh, God. Had she gotten all nostalgic and begged him to sleep with her?