Please Say I Do

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  Rik cleared his throat and Hallie realized he was waiting for her to look up. With his hand on the doorknob, he regarded her with a raised eyebrow. “Just for the record, I think you should know you were never unconscious last night. Asleep, yes, but not unconscious.”

  Before she could process that information, there was a brisk rap-a-tap-tap on the door and the knock echoed like a Chinese gong inside her head. Rik frowned over his shoulder at her and she shrugged her ignorance as to who might be visiting at this hour. With a glance at the bedside alarm clock, she realized the hour wasn’t so unreasonable. It was only her brain that was lagging behind. The knocking came again, pounding so loudly she thought her head would split “Whoever it is,” she said, “I’m not here.”

  “It could be for me, you know.”

  “One can only hope.” With that, she closed the bathroom door and leaned her head against it. This was a bad dream. It had to be. She couldn’t be nursing a hangover. There hadn’t been more than an ounce or two of liquor in that drink she’d had. But it hadn’t been only one drink, she recalled with grudging clarity and a heartfelt groan. A groan that strangled in her throat as she heard the ringing, articulate vowels of Babs Brewster’s unmistakable voice.

  “Rik? What are you doing in Ms. Bernhardt’s room?”

  “Whose room?”

  “Hallie Bernhardt I booked it for her myself.”

  “Oh. Her. We traded rooms.”

  Hallie knew she was in trouble, and all she could do was stay out of sight and listen to the conversation taking place in the next room.

  “Why ever for?” Babs asked. “This is one of the best rooms in the hotel. Certainly, it’s costing me a fortune. The hotel believes the view is worth—What is thatr

  “A window?” Rik’s voice suggested..

  “Don’t be obtuse. What is that pink thing hanging on the tree branch?”

  Hallie squeezed her eyes shut, praying for some small miracle to occur and block Babs’s view. A total eclipse of the sun would be good.

  “It looks like women’s underwear,” Rik answered, his voice dipping as if he were moving across the room, then gaining strength as he came closer to the bathroom door. “Probably one of those New Age artists experimenting with palm tree art.”

  Babs’s skeptical “Humph” was as resonant as a doorbell. “Is Jack here with you?”

  “No, he isn’t. But you know, now that you mention him, that does look like his underwear out there.”

  “You, Mr. Austin, have been in the jungle too long. And that goes double for the dancer you had slung over your shoulder in the lobby last night.”

  Hallie laid her forehead against the door. Rik and a dancer? And he’d had the gall to insinuate that he’d spent the entire evening with her, Hallie.

  “Appearances are sometimes deceptive, Mrs. Brewster. I was merely attempting a rescue.”

  “Yes,” Mrs. B. answered, her voice going one decibel below sarcasm. “Of course you were. When you see Jack, please tell him I have a message for him from Stephanie.”

  “Stephanie?” Rik’s tone softened like a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top of hot apple pie. “When is she going to arrive at the hotel?”

  “Not a moment too soon for my peace of mind. The weather forecasts are none too good, and I’ve told her to catch the next flight from Honolulu.”

  “Good.” He sounded excessively pleased at that bit of information, Hallie thought “I mean, you’re absolutely right,” Rik continued “We don’t want anything to interfere with Saturday’s wedding, do we?”

  “Even the weather wouldn’t dare,” Babs said with absolute conviction. “Now, what room did you say Ms. Bernhardt is in?”

  “I didn’t say.”

  “But you traded rooms with her. You surely know the room number.”

  “I have an atrocious memory. Jungle fever, you know.”

  “Indeed. I suppose I’ll find her one way or another. Goodbye, Rik.”

  “Goodbye, Mrs. Brewster. Say hello to Mr. Brewster for me.”

  The door hadn’t even clicked shut behind Babs when Hallie cracked open the bathroom door. “I have to get out of this room. Thirteen is bad lu—”

  “I almost forgot, Rik…” Babs pushed into the room again and Hallie slammed the bathroom door and leaned against it, breathing hard.

  “I was just on my way out,” she heard Rik say. “Why don’t you ride down on the elevator with me? We haven’t had much chance to get acquainted and I’d really like to hear your plans for the wedding. Jack doesn’t seem to know what he’s in for and I thought I might be able to—” His words were clipped off by the sturdy click of the lock as it snapped shut behind him.

  Hallie leaned over the sink, turned on the faucet and splashed her face with cool water. When she raised her head and faced the mirror, she grimaced at the sight in front of her. And to think when she’d gotten out of bed yesterday, she’d actually believed the worst thing about this trip was going to be her haircut.

  Chapter Four

  “What do you mean the dress shop wasn’t open?” Hallie asked as she watched Rik dump three sacks, a box and two plastic-wrapped bundles onto the bed.

  “I mean, the door was locked, the place was dark, and there was a sign that said Closed. Was someone there when you called?”

  “I couldn’t even reach the hotel operator. Just a recorded message saying all the lines were currently busy and I should try my call again later.” She pursed her lips. “Why would a retail store be closed on a workday in the middle of the week?”

  “Couldn’t tell you. According to Earlette, the proprietor is a retired accountant from the mainland who doesn’t depend on the shop for her income, so she works pretty much when and if she wants to.”

  “That’s a ridiculous way to run a business. She should hire someone to be there when she isn’t.”

  Rik stopped unwrapping one of the bundles and looked up. “I’ll bet she never thought of that,” he said dryly.

  “I just can’t believe it was closed.”

  His eyes seemed bluer somehow than she remembered. Or maybe the cold shower she’d taken had cleared away some of the fog from her head and she could actually see better. Or maybe her lingering hangover just made her farsightedness more sensitive than normal. Either way, he had very expressive eyes. And right now, they were expressing a slight impatience.

  “The dress shop was closed, so I got what I could from the gift shop.” He unwrapped the plastic from the bundles and laid out several articles for her inspection. “Toiletries,” he said, touching each in turn. “Your choice of straight or angled toothbrush, soft or medium bristles. Dental floss, mouthwash, eyedrops, hairbrush, comb, magnifying mirror, bath gels in four fragrances— I couldn’t decide which you’d prefer, so I bought all of them. Twin-edged razors, moisturizing soap, an assortment of deodorants, colognes—not much to choose from in that line, I’m afraid. Hairspray, safety pins, straight pins and—” he tossed the last item in the air and caught it with a triumphant sweep of his hand “—the supereconomy pack of extra-strength, nonacidic pain reliever.”

  Hallie approached the bed with a mixture of astonishment, appreciation and awe. “Did you buy out the entire gift shop?”

  “Only the clothing section.” He reached for one of the sacks and upended it next to the displayed toiletries. “Unfortunately, there wasn’t a suit to be found in black, navy or pinstripe, so I hope you like bright colors.” He whisked away the sack, leaving a cluster of brillianthued spandex behind.

  Hesitantly touching the swim wear, she sorted out two modest bikinis, one a sea green floral, one a solid neon pink, four maillots in various shades of blue, one in all American red, white and navy with matching cover-up, and the last a vastly immodest, gold mesh with highcut legs, low-cut neckline and more material cut out than left in. Hallie let the swimsuits dribble from her fingers into a resplendent heap on the bed before she raised her gaze to Rik’s. “What am I supposed to do with these?”

  “Wear t
hem’ he suggested, a trifle offhandedly for true nonchalance. “In place of your, uh, intimate apparel.”

  She looked at the mound of swimsuits again. “In case you haven’t noticed, these are a little obvious for intimacy. No one would need X-ray vision to see my underwear, now would they?”

  “That would depend on what else you were wearing.” He reached for another sack and a brilliant mix of tropical colors streamed from inside. “Feast your eyes on these Hawaiian muumuus.” He pulled out one after another after another. “Guaranteed to disguise a variety of personal problems, including an abundance of bright underwear or, in some cases, a lack of underwear altogether.”

  “This is it?” she asked, panic rising like a bread dough seasoned with too much yeast “I’m here on business, you know. Not a vacation. I can’t wear muumuus. They’re completely unprofessional and so… colorful. In my line of work, I’m supposed to blend into the background, not stand out like a tiger lily surrounded by orchids.”

  “Everyone will understand, Hallie. It isn’t your fault the airline lost your luggage.”

  “And it isn’t my fault that what little I had left is gone with the wind, either, but I don’t want to have to explain that to Babs Brewster. It won’t matter to her whose fault it is.”

  “She isn’t totally unreasonable.”

  “How long have you known her?” Hallie sank onto the edge of the mattress and fingered one of the muumuus while making a supreme effort to quell complete hysteria. “She expects perfection. All the Brewsters do, in one way or another, it seems. This wedding has to be flawless down to the last grain of birdseed. Babs and Danny Brewster wield a great deal of influence in Boston society circles and I could gain or lose a lot of future business depending on the outcome of this one wedding.” She picked up one of the muumuus and shook it out to full volume. “Forget I said that. This wedding will be perfect. All my weddings are. Do you think there’s any other way to get into the boutique?”

  “Other than waiting until it’s open?” He frowned at her. “You’re not thinking about knocking over the dress shop, are you?”

  She supposed it was pointless to discuss this with a man who thought a bikini was an adequate substitute for lingerie. “I’m thinking about getting something decent to wear.” With a frustrated glance at the paraphernalia scattered over the bed, she tossed the muumuu on top of the heap and set her hands on her hips. “Didn’t you bring anything else?”

  “As a matter of fact…” There was a flash of irritation in his blue eyes as he picked up the last sack and handed it across the bed. “Try this on for size. I think it could be just the style you need to make a lasting impression.”

  She took the sack, opened it and pulled out a grass skirt and a bra made of coconut shells. “This room isn’t big enough for me and your sense of humor,” she said “So, thanks very much, but you can take your things and leave anytime now.”

  He came around the bed so fast she didn’t even have time to back away. For a moment, he stood perfectly still, towering over her in attitude as well as intimidating height. Hallie’s heart began a fast, arrhythmic beat and she wondered vaguely what she’d done with her glasses. Not that she really wanted a more focused look at him just now. Even fuzzy, he was altogether too attractive and she was altogether too alone with him. Alone, nearly naked and entirely too mouthy for her own best interests.

  It was this room, she thought, searching for a scapegoat. The thirteenth room on the thirteenth floor. What in hell had she been thinking? Asking him to leave? She ought to beat a path to the door…except she couldn’t move. Not beneath the blurred force of his penetrating and angry gaze.

  “Look, you,” he said, and for a second, Hallie thought he was going to thump her chest with an accusing fingertip. He didn’t, though, and she realized she half wished he would so she’d have an excuse to thump his chest in return. “I don’t know who you think you are,” he continued. “I’ve done my best to help from the minute you walked into the bar yesterday. I didn’t have to. I didn’t really even want to. But you looked as if you didn’t have a friend in the world, and I’ve always been a sucker for the underdog.

  “However, now I’m stuck with you, so we’d better get a few things straight. This is my room, and if anybody’s leaving, it’s going to be you. I have my own agenda for this wedding, my own future to worry about, and frankly, I don’t give a damn if you want to strut naked through the lobby to satisfy your suspicious little mind that the dress shop is indeed closed. You can wear the clothing I spent both time and money getting for you or you can climb out on that tree limb and make a stab at getting your own clothes back. I’m washing my hands of your troubles, here and now. Since the room mix-up wasn’t entirely your fault, I’m willing to negotiate on sharing, but that’s as far as Til go. You’re welcome to find another room, get yourself more suitable clothes and irritate the devil out of some other poor male, but I’m out of it. Understand?”

  Well, Hallie thought, taken aback. How long had he had to practice that speech? “I understand, all right. Now that you’ve backed me into the proverbial corner, you’re trying to blame me for the whole situation. Well, it isn’t your underwear swinging from the branch of that palm tree.” She pointed in the direction of the window. “It isn’t your luggage that’s lost. It isn’t your future on the line. It isn’t your neck Babs Brewster is breathing down. And it certainly isn’t you who’s going to have to coordinate a very important wedding while wearing spandex and a floral tent!”

  His lips tightened into an irritated smile. “You’re right. My luggage is here.” He indicated a duffel bag by the closet. “My future is planned to perfection. I can handle a dozen Babs Brewsters. And, best of all, I look really cute in my Speedo and Hawaiian shirt. So why am I worrying about you?”

  The knock at the door was brisk and businesslike. “Room service.”

  Hallie smelted the distracting, delicious aroma of freshly prepared food. And her attitude made a U-turn. “You ordered breakfast?” she asked hopefully. “For me?”

  With a scowl that seemed more self-directed than not, Rik strode across the room and opened the door. By the time the tray had been placed on the table and the waiter tipped and gone, the scent of bacon had filled the room with an enticing aroma and Hallie conceded she wasn’t up to a standoff. At least, not until after she’d satisfied the empty rumbling in her stomach. ‘Truce?” she suggested. “I apologize for fussing at you. I apologize for the fussing I’ll probably do after I’ve eaten. But for now, could I please, please, have a cup of coffee?”

  “You said you never touch caffeine. You said it ruins your sleep.”

  “I don’t and it does…which is exactly the reason I’m touching it this morning. Coffee is the only thing standing between me and crawling back into that bed, burying my head under the covers and sleeping until I can go home.” She took a step toward the table, glancing back at him. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  He shrugged. “Be my guest”

  The irony wasn’t lost on her, it was just wasted. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so hungry. Ravenous, really. Her headache clamored for a distraction. Her nerves were on edge from the cropped and shaggy ends of her hair to the tips of her toes. She felt truly awful, but her sense of smell sat up and took notice as she poured the coffee and her mood perked up at the sight of soft-boiled eggs, toast, jellies, marmalade, bagels, cream cheese in three flavors, bacon, ham and half a dozen fluffy, golden brown biscuits. She would have agreed to wear the grass skirt and coconut shells for the duration of her stay in Hawaii if Rik had demanded she do so as compensation for what she was about to eat.

  Luckily for her, he didn’t demand anything at all, not even her attention. She was halfway through her second bagel before it occurred to her that she was still wrapped in the towel. Rik probably thought she had no inhibitions whatsoever. Not that he seemed to notice what she was—or, more accurately, wasn’t—wearing. She should have been the one to notice. How could she b
e so comfortable with a complete stranger that she had sat across from him, bare-shouldered, with nothing more than a tuck between her and total humiliation, and she hadn’t even realized it until just now. Obviously, food had been her highest priority.

  With a surreptitious glance at Rik, his stoic focus on breakfast, she started to slide out of the chair, bagel in hand, intent on casually scooping a muumuu from the stack on the bed and slipping into the bathroom to change. It was possible, she thought, that he’d, never even notice she was gone.

  Possible, but not likely. Not when she tripped on the chair leg and stumbled across the room like one of the Flying Wallendas. She corrected her balance, kept her towel on and peeled the cream cheese side of the bagel off her chin before she risked a look at Rik, who watched her with interest while munching on a bacon strip. He didn’t have to look so complacent, she thought. Or so amused.

  “Don’t get up,” she snapped as she wiped creamcheese residue off her lips. “I’m fine. No damage done. No need to worry.”

  “I wasn’t worried.” He dolloped orange marmalade onto yet another biscuit and smiled—attractively—at her. “Roomie.”

  She did not like the tone of that, but she couldn’t exactly say why. Maybe it was just that the body count of her embarrassments kept rising. Or maybe it was the idea that he knew things she couldn’t remember. She wanted to ask a few discreet questions about last night. She wanted to know how she’d gotten to this room…and into that bed. And she’d sort of like to know the circumstances leading up to the removal of her clothes. After that, she was pretty sure she didn’t want any details.

  “I’m going to change clothes,” she announced, as if it were an earthshaking decision and he shouldn’t even consider trying to stop her. “Do you, by any chance, know what happened to my glasses?”

  “Top drawer of the chest” He used the biscuit as a pointer. “They suffered a major blow last night, but I straightened them out for you.”