by Kim Law
And definitely gorgeous eyes.
He inched his hand closer to hers. He liked gorgeous eyes. “Will you dance with me, Arsula?”
Chapter Three
They’d done way more than dance the night before.
At least, Arsula thought they had.
She blinked open her eyes, her mouth dry and her thoughts a mixture of Jaden and the dream she’d awakened from, and she stared at the aqua blue of her bedroom ceiling. But what, exactly, had they done? What had been real, and what was a product of her subconscious?
She closed her eyes and tried to remember. They’d danced, definitely. Several times.
And they’d drunk.
A groan slipped out. They’d drunk way too much.
And as if getting soused at the wedding hadn’t been bad enough, when the last guest had departed the hotel’s ballroom, they’d taken their “two-person party”—Jaden’s words, not hers—to the bar down the street. Where they’d continued to drink.
Why she had continued, she had no idea. She could barely remain on her feet with a measly three drinks in her. Plus, she’d only gone over to Jaden in the first place to try to figure out how she was supposed to help him. Yet for some reason, as the night had slipped closer to today, and as they’d found themselves routinely falling into fits of giggles over even the most inappropriate of things, she’d declared herself fully able to keep up with him. And then she’d set out to prove it.
Covering her face now, she simultaneously blocked the sunlight from stabbing holes through her eyelids and continued to sort through the events of the previous evening. Aunt Sul popped into her mind, as well as her father. The two of them had been playing cards and telling her it was her time to put in a bid.
She shook her head. That was clearly part of her dream. Her mother’s aunt had been dead for nine years, and her dad remained in Cheyenne with the rest of her family.
But what did the dream mean?
She pushed thoughts of it to the side. She’d figure that part out later. Right now, she needed to remember the night before.
There’d been more dancing at the bar. More talking, with the conversations being surprisingly easy. Jaden had actually turned out to be a lot of fun. And then Jaden had . . .
She sucked in a breath as she remembered. Poor Jaden.
Reopening her eyes, she once again stared at the ceiling. He had accidentally called her Megan.
Arsula’s heart hurt for him. His slipup had flipped the mood of the evening and sent him spiraling into sadness. They’d left the bar soon after, intending to take a walk and sober up. Only, it had been so cold. She shivered as she recalled the frigid chill that had seeped into her skin. She’d still been in her dress from the wedding, and though she’d also had on her long coat, it had been no match for the February Montana night. Jaden had been cold as well. He’d left his jacket at the hotel, so she’d drunkenly offered to share hers.
A smile curved her lips as she pictured the two of them struggling to fit into her coat together. Their actions reminded her of the old Three Stooges shows she’d routinely watched with her father. She’d have to ask Jaden if he’d ever watched the Three Stooges. He’d no doubt see the humor as well.
Before she could ask herself when she might even see Jaden again, however, she remembered what had come after the coat.
And how she’d pointed out that her apartment was just across the street.
Oh shit.
She cringed at the silent curse word. Sorry, Aunt Sul. Sorry, Jesus.
Then she scowled and came very near to cursing again. Because though she’d love to believe that what had come after the coat had all been part of her convoluted dream . . . she couldn’t quite convince herself it was true.
Cautiously, she turned her head. And gulped.
Yep. Jaden Wilde was in bed with her.
She blinked at his sleeping form, taking in the whisker-stubbled man with his hair flopped into his eyes, and she racked her brain trying to remember what had come next. Surely they hadn’t . . .
They’d kissed. She remembered that much.
She closed her eyes as she replayed additional moments. They’d kissed, and then they’d made it to her building and stumbled up the single flight of stairs. And not only had the kissing continued all the way across the snowy street and up the stairs—but their hands had also been all over each other as they’d done both.
And then they’d . . .
Horror mixed with guilt as the next memory barreled through her, and she lifted her head to peer across the room. Son of a biscuit eater. Why couldn’t that have been part of the dream?
Her red panties lay in a tangle just inside the bedroom door, with Jaden’s trousers and underwear dropped haphazardly next to them. Outside the bedroom door was her bra, one of his shoes, both of his socks, and the red garter belt she’d thought would make her feel sexy the night before. And all items, she knew, had been shed via a drunken striptease performed by the both of them.
She dropped her head back to the pillow. Double shit.
Aunt Sul would likely reach down from heaven with a bar of soap any minute, but she couldn’t seem to clean up her thoughts. What was she supposed to do now? And how in the world would she ever be able to look Megan in the eye again?
She looked back at the man lying beside her. This was not what was supposed to have happened between her and Jaden. She’d come here to help the man. Not to sleep with him!
Plowing her fingers through her hair, she once again closed her eyes and groaned. Her thoughts immediately ceased, however, as she became aware of another minor detail. And then everything inside of her clenched tight.
Withdrawing her hands from her hair, she stretched out her left arm and carefully turned her hand palm down. Then she bent at the wrist, lifting her fingers toward the ceiling . . . and her stomach very nearly heaved out the liquor from the night before.
She was wearing the two-carat ring Jaden had intended for Megan!
Arsula’s mouth grew even drier, and she told herself not to panic. They weren’t engaged, of course. It was just a ring. One she had no intention of keeping.
But why in the world had she let him put it on her? It had been meant for Megan!
And she did recall him putting it on her. He’d suggested she keep it since his girlfriend didn’t want it.
She tugged the ring off before Jaden could wake and catch her wearing it, and when he shifted beside her, groaning with the move, she quickly shoved it under her hip. He groaned once more, his face now buried in the pillow, and Arsula hurriedly propped herself up against the headboard. She tucked the sheet securely around her breasts, and then she waited.
“Uhhhhh . . .” Jaden expelled yet another sound, this one coming out more as disgust than simple disgruntlement, and he turned his face back toward her. His eyes remained closed, however, so Arsula mustered up the courage to fake a smile. Her heart pounded as if trying to break free of her chest, and five seconds later, Jaden’s eyelids finally began to twitch.
She held her smile, wishing she’d had the foresight to get out of bed before he’d woken up. At least then she could have put on clothes.
It was too late for that now, though. Because Jaden’s eyelids opened. Nothing else about him moved at first. He licked his lips, the move producing a dry, sticky sound. And then he yawned wide and began to roll to his back.
Arsula gripped the sheet to her side to keep it from going with him, and when he got stuck mid roll, his dark brows scrunched together. He tugged at the sheet, using only his shoulder as leverage, but she held tight. So he tugged again.
That’s when she knew he’d finally seen her. His gaze landed on her fingertips where they clenched the sheet at her hip, then his eyes trailed up her arm.
Their gazes connected, and not knowing what else to do, she ratcheted up her smile.
“Good morning,” she finally said into the silence. Her cheeks were starting to ache from all the smiling.
Jaden didn’t r
eply.
He took in the room instead, a frown tugging at his lips as he found his glasses on the bedside table, and then he let his eyes rove over every inch of her bedroom. He squinted at the sunshine streaming through the dreamcatcher hanging inside her bedroom window. Then he brought his gaze back to her face. Then to her bare shoulders.
“What . . .”
His scratchy voice trailed off as he roamed over the sheet covering her bare body, and he finally seemed to catch on. Because he was up and out of the bed in record time. Naked.
“What the hell?” he barked out.
Her smile dropped. “What do you mean, what the hell?”
“I mean what”—he jabbed a finger in her direction—“the hell is going on here?”
Now she frowned. And narrowed her eyes at him. It’s not like the situation was ideal for her, either.
Her annoyance apparently revived her full memory as well as got her blood pressure inching up, because she now had a complete replay of exactly what had happened in that room last night and what had not. And Mr. What-the-Hell needed to back the hell off.
She also found herself more than a little relieved this wasn’t as bad as it looked.
Forcing herself to remain calmly on the bed, she couldn’t keep from pushing back at the man whose finger remained pointed at her. “Are you referring to the fact that I politely gave you a place to sleep last night?” Her artificially sweet voice only seemed to irritate Jaden more. “Or to the fact that you performed a striptease before going to sleep?”
He scowled as if confused by her question, and then apparently caught on—at least to part of it. Because he looked down at himself. She looked down, too.
“What the—”
“Hell?” she finished for him. She gave him another smile when he looked back up, this one not at all polite. “We’ve covered that already.”
She considered tossing him the crocheted blanket from the foot of her bed, but then she decided his arrogance didn’t deserve modesty.
“I can’t believe . . .” Jaden’s words once again trailed off as he went for his slacks and underwear, and she allowed herself a parting peek. It may not be the most ethical thing, to take in a man’s backside as he bent to retrieve his clothing, but at the same time, she knew few women who’d look away when presented with the same opportunity.
Especially when his backside looked like that.
As his superb rear disappeared beneath a pair of navy boxer briefs—Jaden muttering under his breath the entire time he tugged at the material—she decided the prudent thing would be for her to get out of the bed. Only, she wasn’t about to offer the blockhead another look at her goods.
Forcing herself to avert her gaze, she climbed from her position at the headboard and tugged the sheet out with her. After wrapping it around her toga-style, she pulled her shoulders back, making herself look as formidable as possible, and prepared to confess that this wasn’t actually what it seemed.
Before she could get a word out, though, angry blue eyes once again accosted hers.
“What happened here last night?” he demanded. “And where the hell am I?”
“You’re in my apartment.” She glanced out the double windows overlooking Main Street. “And we’re above your sister’s office. I work for her.”
He eyed her with suspicion. “You work for Dani?”
“Correct. I’m her office manager.” She’d initially been hired only as the receptionist, but with Dani’s maternity leave, she’d taken on additional tasks.
“And you brought me to . . .” Jaden weaved in place as he scanned every inch of the room once again, and Arsula had the thought that she should probably move closer in order to catch him if he fell. Clearly, he still had more than a fair amount of liquor sloshing through his veins. She might have declared herself able to keep up with him the night before, but the reality was that she’d failed. The man had drunk her under the table.
She didn’t move closer, though. She wasn’t sure she’d try to catch him if he did fall.
“What . . . exactly . . . happened here last night?” he asked again, his ire still clearly running high, but his voice now oddly subdued. “Because this”—he waved a hand in a circle, taking in both her and her bed—“isn’t me. You must have . . .” His jaw clenched instead of finishing his thought out loud, and Arsula’s brows rose high on her forehead.
“I must have what?” She crossed her arms over her chest. The idiot wasn’t really going to stand there and accuse her of slipping him a roofie, was he?
Like she’d need to roofie a man to get him into her bed.
He held his ground. “I couldn’t have agreed to this. I have a girlfriend.”
“No, actually. You do not.”
He flinched at her announcement.
“That’s right.” She reminded herself to remain calm, but she feared it wasn’t going to play out that way. Too many years of being picked on by three older brothers wouldn’t allow her to simply back off from an argument. Especially one where she wasn’t in the wrong. “She broke up with you, remember? You told me all about it last night.” She didn’t bother pointing out that she’d already been aware of the facts before he’d shared them. “Before you came to my place. Of your own free will.”
With a growled “I shouldn’t have told you anything,” he suddenly stomped from the room.
Arsula trailed after him, one hand holding the sheet snug at her breasts and the other gathering up the extra material to keep from tripping on it, and she continued her barrage. “In fact”—she didn’t pause as he snatched up his socks and shoes—“you told me she said no when you proposed to her.”
Heated eyes glared at her. “She only said no because I caught her off guard.” He tugged on his shoes, cramming his socks into his pants pockets instead of putting them on his feet. “We weren’t supposed to get engaged until I finished my master’s program.”
“Then why did you ask her last night?” She really should back off, but this way was more fun.
Jaden snatched up his shirt. “It’s none of—”
“Why did you have a ring made for her?”
That one made him pause, and she held up her left hand when he turned back.
“That’s right.” She wiggled her bare finger as if the ring were still wrapped securely around it. “You told me all about the ring, too. Even put it on my finger.” She didn’t offer to retrieve it for him. Her mother would be highly disappointed in her lack of control. “It’s pretty enough,” she went on, “but a tad gaudy for my tastes.”
He glared at her. “I can’t believe I’d ever sleep with someone like you.”
“And I can’t believe I’d lower my standards enough to allow you to!”
He jerked open the outer door, and a dusting of snowflakes whipped inside. He hadn’t yet buttoned his shirt, and he held his tux jacket and bow tie in his hand, but he seemed intent on getting out of there as fast as possible. He stood in the open doorway, his face now hot with rage, and made the mistake of jabbing a finger in her direction once more. “You are the devil.”
She threw a vase at him.
He ducked, and the vase shattered on the concrete stoop behind him. “What the—”
“Hell,” she finished. “I know. We keep covering that. And Jesus hates cussing, by the way. You shouldn’t do it so much.” She threw the TV remote, and it bounced off his shoulder.
“You’re insane.”
“And you’re an idiot. Get out of my apartment.” She fired a book and got him square in the cheek before he could get out of the way, then she cringed as the hardback clattered to the floor. Her concern was for the book. Not for him.
Jaden didn’t waste any more time sticking around. He stepped out onto the stoop, the soles of his shoes crunching on the shattered ceramic of the vase, but the moron made one final mistake. He turned back.
“This is your fault,” he snarled, “and you’d better not breathe a word of it to anyone.”
“My fault?
” Her eyes dropped to his crotch. “So you’re implying that you’re not in control of your own dick?”
“I’m saying that—” He bit off his initial reply, his jaw twitching as if trying to get control of his words, and he ended by holding one finger up in front of him. “Just stay the fuck away from me.”
He turned to go, and she finished with, “My pleasure!”
The lamp from the end table hurtled through the air before she realized she’d even picked it up, and as if in slow motion, Jaden’s foot lowered for the first step. Only, the lamp clipped the back of his head before he could find his footing, and with bile rising in her throat, Arsula stood frozen as the sickening thuds of Jaden Wilde’s body tumbling down the narrow metal stairs echoed up to her.
Chapter Four
Arsula rose from the vinyl padded chair for the third time in the last ten minutes and paced the twenty feet to the opposite side of the room. There were only two other people in the emergency room waiting area, and their eyes tracked her as she methodically moved back and forth. She counted her steps as she marched across the tiled floor, turned, and putting one foot precisely in front of the other, made her way back.
Pivoting, she headed the other way once again, but before she could make it half the distance, a commotion at the entrance had her turning her head. The woman behind the registration desk looked up as at least six Wildes barreled into the room.
“Jaden.” Cord was the first one to speak.
His eyes landed on Arsula before the registration lady could utter a word, and with long strides, he reached her in seconds. Additional family members followed behind him—as well as Megan.
“How is he?” Cord demanded. “Where is he?”
Arsula pointed at the door that led to the patient area. “They took him back right after we got here.” She wet her dry lips and kept going. “He hasn’t gone into surgery yet, though. He . . .”
Her voice cracked as she took in the faces staring back at her, and as she had since the first dull thud had rung out from her steps, she silently beat herself up for her part in this.
