Please Say I Do

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  “Good, you’re awake.”

  There was nothing good about hearing voices that trumpeted, disembodied, out of a blinding light. Hallie struggled against the’ throbbing ache in her head, knowing there was something she should recall about that voice, something out of place about it. Keeping the pillow pinned across the upper half of her face with one arm, she licked her dry lips, gathered her meager resources and demanded in a raspy whisper, “If I’d known I was going to wake up like this, I would never have gone to sleep.”

  “Headache?”

  “That’s a major understatement”

  “I could get a damp cloth to put on your forehead.” The voice boomed closer, and a moment later, she felt a tug on the pillowcase.

  “Touch this pillow and you’re a dead man,” she said in no uncertain whisper. “I don’t see how a damp cloth is going to help. My head hurts inside, not out.”

  “Do you want some coffee?”

  She shook her head beneath the pillow and winced. “Is that my only choice? A damp cloth or hot coffee?”

  “I can see if there’s a brain surgeon in the hotel, if that will make you feel better.”

  “I’m not sure dying would make me feel better.” With a tremendous effort, she slid the pillow off her face and took a first, cautious, squinted peek at the morning. She was in bed…a huge four-poster iron bed with fancy scrollwork and draped with soft green gauze and artificial palm fronds. The room beyond was a soothing blend of green and beige. When she could bear to open her eyes, she was sure she’d see palm-frond patterns in the wall covering and in the upholstery of the lone chair pushed close to the open window. In a billow of palm-frond green, the gauze curtains blew in and out, like the puffy cheeks of a tuba player. The sound of surf surged in and out, in and out, making her stomach churn with its nauseating roll. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, but the sound kept pouring into the room. Rolling out. Rolling in. Rolling…

  “Where’s the bathroom?” she asked, grappling with the covers and trying to get out of the bed in a hurry without moving any faster than she absolutely had to.

  “There.” He pointed the way. Not that Hallie actually looked. She just slid out of the soft, smooth sheets and followed her instincts to the bathroom.

  RIK ADMIRED Hallie’s naked backside until she vanished behind the definitive click of the bathroom door. As a way to start the day, sharing a room with a naked woman had its good points…and from what he’d seen so far, he had no complaints. On the other hand, he’d gotten very little sleep, crunched as he’d been in the chair. And for all his trouble, all his arguing with the hotel staff, all his persuasive techniques with Earlette, he’d accomplished nothing except to establish himself as a fixture in the life of Hallie Bernhardt, wedding coordinator for Stephanie Brewster’s upcoming nuptials. Oh, yes, he’d been all too successful in accomplishing that. Wait until Hallie found out the two of them were sharing this thirteenth room on the thirteenth floor.

  “Aaaaaack!”

  Rik reached for his socks and shoes, figuring that no matter how the next few minutes evolved, he ought to be ready. The door opened and he glanced up to see Hallie wrapped in a bath towel, the ends tucked modestly—and very seductively—into place above her breasts, leaving her shoulders beautifully bare beneath the cautious, angry expression on her face.

  “What are you doing in my room?” she asked crisply, despite the way she winced after each word. “And what is your stuff in my bathroom doing?” She frowned. “What’s it doing here?”

  Pulling his gaze from her shoulders, he allowed himself an appreciative glance at the length of shapely legs below the towel. The glance lingered, and he reminded himself that this particular pair of legs were high maintenance. Extremely high maintenance. He tied the laces of one athletic shoe and then the other before he settled back in the chair. “I believe you’re under a slight misapprehension,” he said. “This is my room and my stuff belongs here.”

  She processed that information with pursed lips. “Then why am I here?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  With a shake of her head and the accompanying wince, she captured not only his sympathy but his interest. In that one act, she seemed both courageous and vulnerable and, for an instant, he wanted to take her in his arms and feel the weight of her head on his shoulder. Not that she’d allow that. Not that he’d actually consider initiating such a move.

  “As it turns out,” he said conversationally, “this is your room, too.”

  She stared at him while her fingers compulsively checked the tucked end of the towel. “You’re going to have to talk slower. I thought you said—”

  “This is our room,” he volunteered. “Yours and mine. If you had any…stuff…it would have just as much claim to the bathroom counter as mine.”

  “The airline lost my luggage,” she said.

  “And the hotel gave you a room on the fourteenth floor.”

  “They wouldn’t change it for me.”

  “You went into the bar…”

  “I went into the bar.”

  “We started talking…”

  “Bad haircut.”

  “Rough flight”

  “Hurricane Bonnie.”

  “No one to tend bar.”

  Her eyes squinched shut in painful recollection. “Tequila sunrise.”

  “Tequila sunrise,” he confirmed.

  She shielded her eyes against the light and shifted from one foot to the other. “Is this a hangover?”

  “That would be my guess.”

  “I don’t drink, normally.”

  “Or eat chocolate.”

  She shuddered. “I ate chocolate, too?”

  “Four little kisses, but you barely tasted the champagne before you poured it over your head.”

  “Champagne?”

  He nodded, oddly pleased to be able to confirm her worst fears.

  Sagging against the door frame, she contemplated her toes. “The last thing I remember is asking someone at the front desk to change rooms with me.” She looked up, comprehending. “That was you.”

  “That was me.”

  “So how did we end up in the same room?”

  “Computer glitch.”

  “I thought the computers were down.”

  “When they came up, I got moved into your room, but you never got moved into mine.”

  “So all I need to do is call the front desk and ask to be switched.”

  Rik shook his head, trying to ease her into reality a little at a time. “They gave the room to a trio of weather chasers.”

  “Someone gave away my room?”

  “Technically, it was never your room. The minute I was checked out of it, the weather team was checked in.”

  “But don’t you have a key?”

  He fought a sensual rush of memory. “It disappeared somewhere between…”

  “Between…?”

  He chose the high road. “The lobby and the tenth floor.”

  “Tenth floor?” She paled, her fair skin turning a shade lighter. “Then we’re…this is…? Please don’t tell me we’re on the—”

  “Fourteenth floor. Thirteenth room. Ocean view.”

  Hallie’s eyes closed as a groan escaped her clenched lips. “There has to be another room somewhere.”

  “If there is, the staff is keeping it under padlock and key. With the hurricane taking a path so close to the Islands, travel in and out is being discouraged.”

  “So, I’m stuck here with you?”

  “And I’m schtuck here with you.”

  She eyed him suspiciously and he could almost hear her thoughts. “No, I’m not lying,” he answered her unspoken accusation. “I don’t like this arrangement any more than you do. And, no, we didn’t sleep together.”

  “That thought certainly never occurred to me,” she denied too quickly and too vehemenently.

  He arched a dubious brow and doubt flickered momentarily in her eyes. “I may have a hangover,” she said firmly, “bu
t I know for a fact nothing happened in that bed last night except some really bad dreams.” And with that, she closed the door.

  THE MIRROR BATHED HER in good lighting. Most hotels had too few lightbulbs and too many harsh, yellowtinted bulbs. Usually, putting on makeup was an exercise in frustration, leaving a face with foundation smudges, eye-shadow streaks and unevenly plucked eyebrows. Not this hotel. Oh, no, Hallie thought in disgust This hotel had to have soft white light, perfect for seeing the red eyes, purple shadows and cracked lips of the morning after her first and only binge. She couldn’t believe it. She never consumed alcohol, never imbibed champagne, never allowed herself a bite of unadulterated chocolate. And in one night, she’d apparently tried to make up for a lifetime of restraint If, of course, Rik Austin could be believed.

  She squinted at her reflected image. Why would Rik lie to her? He couldn’t want to be stuck—schtuck, why did that slurred syllable sound so embarrassingly familiar?—in the same room with her. She looked like warmed-over death with a froo-froo haircut. Lifting the scattered layers of her hair, she wondered how she’d landed herself in this predicament…sharing her head with a killer headache, sharing her bathroom with a man’s shaving cream and razor, sharing a one-bed hotel room with an attractive stranger. Whoops! Better strike that adjective. Not that he wasn’t attractive. He had bedroom eyes that could probably seduce women across a crowded room, and under that overly bright Hawaiian shirt, she was certain he had strong, broad shoulders and a well-exercised and muscular chest. Exactly why she was certain seemed a touchy area, so she skirted past it and continued her original train of thought, which was that Rik Austin was attractive, but she had no business noticing such things.

  She had to pull herself together, get down to work and show Babs Brewster and the hotel staff that she was a professional who didn’t allow personal problems to interfere with her duties. At least, she would if she could just find something to wear.

  She jerked open the door. “What did you do with my clothes?”

  Rik turned from staring out the window to look at her. “I hung them outside to dry.”

  She blinked. “You did what?”

  “Everything was soaked in champagne, so I hung them outside to dry.”

  “Don’t they have a cleaning service in the hotel?”

  He had the grace to look embarrassed. “I’m afraid that thought never occurred to me.”

  “Wait a minute.” Despite the annoying drumbeat inside her head, she was beginning to regain her confidence. “Let me get this straight. You brought me to this room, stripped off my champagne-soaked clothes, and instead of sending them out to be cleaned or simply hanging them up in the bathroom, you hung them outside to dry?”

  He shrugged “I’m not accustomed to sending my clothes to a dry cleaner’s.”

  “Are you accustomed to drying them outside?” She indicated the window with a nod. “In a brisk wind?”

  “It wasn’t that brisk last night.”

  Hallie was beginning to get a bad feeling about this. “Where are my clothes now?”

  With a rueful frown, he pulled back the curtain and motioned her to join him at the window. “See that tree?”

  From where she stood, she could see several trees, but even with her hand shading her eyes against the sunlight, her gaze settled on the one he pointed out. Maybe it was the peach-colored dress draped across the green-and-brown palm fronds that caught her eye. And then she noticed the dangling nylon foot of a pair of panty hose that dipped and danced from the balcony rail with every hefty breath of wind. But what ultimately drew her attention was the full-blown cups of her pricey, peach-hued brassiere, flying like a doublepointed flag from the tip of the closest palm branch.

  The word that fell from her lips into the silence was succinct, and successful in drawing Rik’s attention. “I guess I owe you an apology,” he said.

  She couldn’t wear an apology. “I’d settle for something to wear and a full bottle of aspirin. No. Never mind. No aspirin.” With a frustrated sigh, she muttered her mantra of positive thinking under her breath. Anything that keeps me from fulfilling my professional obligations is unacceptable. If I can’t fix a problem, I’ll look for another solution. If I can’t find another solution, I’ll discover a way around the problem. If I have nothing to wear, I’ll make a muumuu out of the shower curtain. Anything that keeps me from fulfilling my professional obligations is unacceptable.

  Which was all well and good, if only her head would stop throbbing so she could think. If only she could figure out what had happened between her last lucid moment at the front desk and waking up in that bed. She hadn’t slept with Rik, that much she knew, but she could have told him things she didn’t want anyone else to know. No, of course she hadn’t Even at their worst, people didn’t betray their true nature, didn’t bypass their normal restraint. He knew no more about her than she did about him…except he’d seen her naked.

  The ache in her head worsened at the idea and she promised herself she’d deal with that thought—and all its ramifications—later. As soon as she had something other than a bath towel to wear. Steadying herself with a hand on the partially opened door, she took a deep breath. “Could you go downstairs and get me something to wear? There must be a dress or gift shop in the hotel somewhere.”

  “There’s at least one shop I know of. What do you want?”

  “A suit.”

  “A swimsuit?”

  She cringed. “You don’t have to shout.”

  “I’m not.” he denied, although he did have the courtesy to lower his voice. “You’re just overly sensitive this morning.”

  “Thank you for pointing that out.”

  “No problem. So, do you want a two-piece or a bikini?”

  “I want a suit,” she repeated. “Skirt, blouse and jacket.”

  “Don’t you want something a bit more…Hawaiian?”

  “No. I want a suit. No frills, no ruffles and definitely no floral prints.”

  “I’m not sure the shops here carry that sort of thing.”

  “Of course they do.”

  He shrugged. “Okay, if you say so. Black, blue or pin-striped?”

  “Black, preferably, but blue will do, if that’s all they have.” She frowned, then grimaced as the pounding in her head increased in direct proportion to the furrows in her brow. “What did you do with my shoes?”

  Rik started across the room and Hallie grasped the edge of the door, taking an involuntary step back into the bathroom, in case he made a move toward her. He didn’t. He simply walked across the room and returned with her impractical white sandals looped over his thumbs. “You kicked them off downstairs in the lobby and I carried them up here in my pocket”.

  “I kicked off my shoes?” she asked, positive he was making that up. “In the lobby?”

  “You tried to take off your jacket, too.”

  Aha, she thought “I wasn’t wearing a jacket yesterday,” she said, in a pale shadow of her usual so-there tone of voice.

  He started to say something, then stopped and merely smiled…which made her all the more uneasy. “I’ll be back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Downstairs. To get you something to wear.” He came closer and she wondered if he’d been this tall yesterday. He held out her shoes, and without having to release her protective hold on the towel, she caught the heel straps on her index finger.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” His confident smile was too sexy for her comfort “You know, I’d be better off if you gave me your measurements.”

  Well, of all the nerve. “If I were feeling more myself this morning, I’d pop you in the nose for that bit of impertinence.”

  He raised an eyebrow in amusement “Aren’t you a little short to be using big words like that?”

  “As you’ve just demonstrated, height has nothing to do with being impertinent. You may have gotten me out of my clothes while I was unconscious, but you can forget any ideas you m
ight have about scoring a touchdown this morning.”

  “A touchdown?” he repeated, stroking his thumb across his jaw.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know what we’re discussing here.”

  “I’m going to take a wild stab at this and guess you’re talking about sex.”

  “For your information, I don’t discuss intimate topics with strangers and I definitely never give out my measurements!”

  “There seems to be a lot of things you don’t do, Ms. Bernhardt. And getting clothes that fit is about to become one of them.”

  He hadn’t been asking for her bust, waist and hip measurements, she realized, only for the jacket, blouse and skirt sizes she normally wore. The blush stole over her like, an unexpected spring shower. “You wanted to know what size suit to get,” she whispered selfconsciously. “I misunderstood.”

  “Forget it.” He shrugged off her meager apology. “Just call the dress shop and let them know you’re sending a man to do a woman’s job. That way, you can give them your measurements in the strictest confidence and my nose won’t get popped for asking impertinent questions about what size undergarments you wear.”

  “I would have thought you’d have checked that out when you had the chance,” she said.

  He smiled, revealing a slight cleft in one lean cheek. “A gentleman would never do such a thing, Ms. Bernhardt, and if he did, he certainly wouldn’t admit to it.”

  As he walked to the door, Hallie watched, somewhat bemused at the thought of sharing a hotel room with a man who seemed so confident, so assured, so nicely put together. And he had quite a nice butt, too. What was wrong with her? As if she didn’t have enough to think about already. The last thing she needed was to share a room with anyone, least of all a man. The moment, the very moment he was gone, she would pick up the phone, call the front desk and raise as much hell as her headache allowed. Then she’d call the airline and find out when she could expect her errant luggage to arrive. After that…well, maybe her first call would be to the dress shop. No point in taking chances with her best shot at getting something to wear.