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But he could.
He led her around the dance floor, spinning her, pulling her in close, holding her tight, so sure of himself, sure of his movements, and Gloria knew, she just knew he’d be good in bed.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Because when he wasn’t singing and he wasn’t dancing, the cowboy drove her bat-shit crazy. From the moment they’d met ten months ago, when he’d purposefully done everything in his power to irk her, she didn’t like him. Not one little bit. He was messy and loud and obnoxious and too sure of himself and too big and...ugh!
Every word that came out of his mouth made her want to scream. Everything he did made her want to smack him. Hard.
But, earlier tonight, while in the throes of passion, she’d let him smack her on the backside.
That was not Gloria. She did not do that shit.
Ever.
When the elevator finally reached the top floor of the Drake Hotel, Gloria exited with about as much dignity as a cockroach scuttling out of a room when the light came on, finding the nearest crack to crawl inside. Because of the big slippers she wore, her scuttling was more of a shuffle-slide.
“Enjoy the rest of your evening,” the bellboy called.
Ignoring him, Gloria checked the screen of her phone. It was 3:17 and still no message from Daisy.
Crap.
She leaned against the wall, trying to figure out what to do. She wasn’t about to interrupt her friend on her wedding night, that was for sure. But what were her options? Go back to her room? Tell the cowboy to get out?
Just like that, her vision went all spotty again and Gloria doubled over to keep from passing out. Seriously! What was it about the man that pushed her to the brink of a panic attack just by thinking about him? If that wasn’t a sign that tonight had been a big, fucking mistake, what was?
She concentrated on her breathing again, following the advice her psychologist had given her a decade ago to keep the sense of panic at bay. But the ringing between her ears only got louder.
Wait. That wasn’t between her ears, that was her phone.
“Gloria?” Daisy’s voice was soft and slurred with sleep. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”
“I’m standing outside your door.”
“You’re where?”
“Just outside.”
“What are you doing there?”
“I don’t know.”
The phone went dead. Turning toward the wall, Gloria banged her head softly against it. This was ridiculous. Here she was standing outside her best friend’s honeymoon suite, on her wedding night.
The door opened and Daisy stuck her head out. At least her best friend looked just as disheveled as Gloria. That made her feel better. And, the fact that her friend was letting her in at all. She had to count that as a blessing.
“What happened to you?” Daisy asked, covering a yawn that looked suspiciously like a smile, as she opened the door wider.
So her best friend should be a little less amused and a little more empathetic, but whatever, she was there. Daisy closed the door, slid her arm through Gloria’s and pulled her close. Gloria held on tight, appreciating the simple comfort of having a best friend when she needed one.
“How’s the cowboy?”
Some best friend. “How’d you know?”
Daisy’s eyes twinkled. “The way you two were dirty dancing out there tonight? Uh, yeah, doesn’t take a genius.”
Gloria dropped to the big white couch in the sitting area of the suite. Weird how she’d been there only twelve hours earlier, in this exact place, laughing and toasting, never imagining she’d be back. The cowboy never even entering her mind. Well, that wasn’t quite true. He’d been annoying the hell out of her all day. Contradicting her, teasing her by calling her darlin’ and Red and other offensive pet names. He was the kind of macho man she despised and avoided.
Until tonight.
Daisy sat next to her and Gloria realized they were dressed exactly the same, both sporting the too-big hotel robes, but Daisy’s feet were bare, and her toes painted a pretty pink that matched the icing on the cupcakes that had served as Daisy’s wedding cake. Focusing on Daisy’s toes seemed like the only way to not focus on what just happened.
“Tell me...” Daisy said, patting Gloria’s knee. “Is the big cowboy...big all over?”
“Daisy!”
This time Daisy didn’t even bother covering up her laugh. “Honestly, Glo. What’s the problem?”
“I did not mean to sleep with him.”
“Hmm.” Daisy tilted her head to one side. “Kind of looked like you did.”
“I don’t like him.”
“You don’t?”
“No. I’ve disliked him from the moment I met him. Remember what a jerk he was at your fund-raiser last year?”
“Of course I remember the fund-raiser. I don’t remember him being a jerk. I thought he was sort of—”
“No.” Gloria held up a finger to stop Daisy. “He’s an ass. He may be Jamie’s cousin, but he’s an ass.”
Daisy’s brows drew together. “So, why’d you sleep with him?”
“I don’t know.” Gloria dropped her head to her hands. All she knew was that every time she thought of him she felt as if she was in a tiny, constricted space where there wasn’t enough air and she couldn’t move and she couldn’t breathe and she needed to get out of there as fast as she could.
They sat there for a few minutes, Daisy rubbing slow, comforting circles on Gloria’s back. “So,” she said eventually. “The sex was bad, huh?”
Gloria didn’t answer at first. “Well...”
Daisy’s hand stopped moving. “Does that mean the sex was good?”
“No. It was not good.” Gloria lifted her head to meet her friend’s gaze.
Liar!
Gloria’s body—the lower bits—quivered indecently at the thought of the sex. Dillon was certainly adept between the sheets. God, the man had owned her body yet took the time to give her pleasure, as well—more than once. It was too much. The way he made her feel so beautiful and desirable and good. The way he’d murmured wicked things in her ear...
“Glo?”
“Hmm?”
“How come you’re smiling?”
She wasn’t smiling. Absolutely not.
“You’re panting, too.”
The bedroom door opened and Daisy’s husband, Jamie, emerged, hair tousled, eyes squinty with sleep. “Wife, of less than twenty-four hours...what are you doing out here?” He rubbed his eyes. “Oh. Hi, Gloria.”
Gloria covered her face and moaned. It was one thing to be mortified in front of your best friend, quite another in front of her nearly naked new husband.
“Hon,” Daisy said sweetly. “Go put on some clothes.”
“I am wearing clothes.”
“Umm...you’re wearing underwear and they really don’t do a good job of covering up your husbandly junk.”
Mortification did not even begin to describe Gloria’s current situation. This was a mess, a royal-flipping mess, and if there was one thing she loathed above all else, it was a mess. Gloria pressed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets so hard that stars burst behind her closed lids. So much better than the alternative.
It wasn’t until she heard the bedroom door close that Gloria took her hands from her face and fell back against the couch again. “I’m sorry, Daisy. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“You’re obviously upset so why don’t you stay. You can sleep here on the couch.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. And if you need to borrow some clothes tomorrow morning, that’s totally fine.”
“I don’t mean to be crashing your honeymoon.”
“Oh, you’re not. We’ve already...” Daisy wiggled her brows “...honeymooned. Twice.”
“God.”
“Plus, we’re leaving for Maui tomorrow, so there’ll be plenty of...” Daisy made an obscene gesture that involved hip thrusts and pounding her fist against her hand.
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. Lots of sex.”
“Lots of sex,” Daisy confirmed with the biggest grin ever.
Gloria sighed. Daisy was happy and Gloria was happy for Daisy. But she was a little bit sad for herself at the same time. Things were going to be different from now on. She was going to miss Daisy and the thought made her feel incredibly lonely.
Still not a good reason to sleep with someone, particularly one who just happened to evoke the panic attacks that you thought you’d licked a long time ago.
“Besides, you’d have done the same for me.” Daisy gave her a big hug. “But, what I don’t understand is, why not just go back to your room? Ask him to leave. It’s your room.”
Gazing directly into her best friend’s eyes, she said, “Because, around that man, I don’t trust myself to not make the same mistake all over again.”
* * *
DILLON HADN’T SLEPT so well in a long time. Nothing like a warm feminine form to wake up to after a night of hotter-than-hell sex. He reached for the feminine form in question, with a mind to wake her up properly, a little repeat of last night’s performance, but there was no one there. The bed was cold.
Huh.
He sat up, scratching an itchy spot on his jaw. Light peeked in around the drapes, revealing clothes strewn all over the floor: one sexy, black high-heeled shoe lying on the dresser, the other caught in the ice bucket. He grinned, remembering how he’d asked her to leave them on. Nothing hotter than a woman in lingerie and heels. Then he’d taken them off and chucked them over his shoulder.
Goddamn, the little redhead was a firecracker.
Now. Where was she?
Dillon pushed himself out of bed, groaning, his lower back stiffening up like it always did. Too many bulls, too many rides. He stretched side to side to work out the stiffness.
“Gloria?”
No answer.
Maybe she was in the shower.
Nice. Heat washed over him at the thought. He always loved shower sex and he was willing to bet the bossy little woman loved it, too, because—damn—she pretty much seemed to love it all.
Ambling over to the bathroom, he knocked. “Hey? You in there?” When there was no answer, he turned the knob, but there was no one there.
Huh. He scratched the same damn spot. Maybe she’d gone for breakfast. He wished she’d woken him up first. They could have ordered room service, had breakfast in bed. He would have liked to see her first thing in the morning, sex-messy, ravenous...
Hot.
He’d have liked to kiss her midbreakfast, tasting the flavor of bacon, eggs and coffee in her mouth, her skin warm as he reached beneath the covers. He’d have taken the tray away and made love to her again.
Sounded like a damn fine way to begin the day.
After pulling on his briefs and dress pants, he found his suit jacket thrown over a chair and located his phone inside. She’d given him her number, hadn’t she? He scrolled. Yep. There it was, her whole name, middle name, too. He tapped a message—Where’d you go?—and barely sent it before he heard the sound of a key card sliding into the lock and the heavy hotel door opening.
With a grin, Dillon went to meet her. “Heya, darlin’. I just sent you a message.” He leaned down to kiss her but Gloria turned her face to the side.
Pulling back, he took a better look at her. Her face was scrubbed of all makeup and her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. She was wearing some workout clothes that looked a couple of sizes too big. The result was that she looked young, fresh and innocent. Nothing wrong with that. It was the expression she was wearing that was all wrong.
Her face was pale. Her pretty lips pressed together. Her light eyes dark, as if the pupils ate up all the blue.
“I didn’t think you’d still be here,” she said.
“Why?”
“It’s late.” She looked at her phone. “Nine thirty.”
“Nine thirty? Holy shit, you really tired me out.” He grinned.
She frowned.
