What was he doing right now?
And what would I do if he came calling? I’d cave in a heartbeat. Less time, if he touched me. Weak. I rose from the uncomfortable couch and stumbled to the bed, pulled up the covers, and tried to quiet the desire for him to knock on my door.
I threw up the entire bottle of wine plus dinner, then sank down on the cold tile floor, pressing my forehead against the porcelain base of the toilet. I didn’t care it was gross. It felt too good on my heated skin, plus it was a luxury hotel. The cleaning crew was probably thorough.
I drank a glass of water from the tap, refilled it, and carried it back to bed, my throbbing head hung. I’d had enough hangovers to know I needed aspirin and something to eat to soak up the stomach acid. Only then would I be able to rejoin the land of the living.
But I also needed thirty more minutes in bed.
As soon as my head touched the cool pillow, there was an odd chirp from across the room. It sounded exactly like Shawn’s phone when he received an e-mail.
“Guten Morgen,” he said.
He sat on the couch facing me, looking comfortable. Like he’d been there awhile. His eyes were exceptionally warm in the morning light, filtered by the gauzy hotel curtains. I did everything in my limited power not to react.
He was dressed in a black suit, one that reeked of expense, with a crisp white dress shirt and a steel-colored silk tie at his neck. He was gorgeous. It was so impossibly unfair. He was going to ruin looking at men for me too, while I could not possibly look or feel worse than I did right now.
“How long have you been there?” I demanded.
He gave me an enigmatic smile for an answer.
“What the hell are you doing, besides being creepy?”
“I wanted to have breakfast with you.” He stood, and when his impressive form approached, I took in a sharp breath that forced me to inhale his appealing cologne. “But I have to go.”
“Where?” I gasped. “Why?”
Yes,why? Why in the world had I said that? I prepared for some cocky answer, but instead he hesitated, as if the question had thrown him off balance.
“You’re not still mad?”
“No, I am,” I said, too quickly. “Why did you want to have breakfast? Is that something you do after all your one-night stands?”
“We can’t have breakfast because it’s late,” he said, not rising to my challenge. “I need to be in the office today.”
“Is that safe?”
“Yes. My head of security insists the brewery is secure, and you know how he feels about my proximity to you.”
It was then that I noticed the faint smell of coffee. Shawn strolled to the side table and poured a cup from the carafe beside a spread of danishes, adding sugar into the steaming mug. We’d had coffee with breakfast on his plane yesterday, so I knew he took his black. He must have noted that I did not.
My cloudy mind wouldn’t focus. Shawn was leaving.
When he held the cup out, I sat up and accepted it but didn’t offer any gratitude. The hangover had disrupted my brain-to-mouth filter, and I had no idea what was going to come out of it.
He pulled a small bottle from his pocket and set it on the nightstand. “I had them send up something with breakfast when I discovered you weren’t feeling well.”
He’d probably discovered all the red wine had gone missing as well.
Shit, I wanted to die from embarrassment.
“Do you think you’ll be feeling better later today?”
I pressed my lips together and nodded slowly. My face was on fire. “I’ll be fine.”
“Good. I’ll have my assistant arrange for a shopper to help get you clothes.”
My gaze fell to the steam rising from my coffee. I did need clothes, but shopping? “I can’t use my credit cards?—”
