“Oh God.” A wave of nausea hit me. “You’re Sam’s friend.”

I promptly turned around and threw up into a potted plant.

THREE

SUNLIGHT STREAMED IN through a crack in the curtains, tracing a fiery path of pain directly across my face.

“Ow.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Ow, ow, ow.”

I threw my arm over my eyes and willed myself to die. Never had I ever been so hungover in my life. If it wasn’t for my dire need to use the bathroom I wouldn’t have moved ever again, but my bladder was not going to let that happen. Rolling over with a groan, I cracked one eye open.

On the table next to the bed was a bottle of water and two small white pills. It was like the Alcohol Gods knew exactly what I needed; or more likely, Chadwick had planned ahead. I picked up the pills and made out the aspirin brand name before tossing them back and drinking the water. With a shaky breath I swung my legs onto the floor and shuffled to the bathroom.

Without thinking, I turned on the light and whimpered. Flailing around blindly, I hit the switch and leaned against the cool tile of the bathroom wall. Turning so I could press my cheek against the cold surface, I sighed. Why did I drink so much last night? When did I drink enough to make me feel this bad? Sliding across the floor slowly, I made my way to the sink and splashed water on my face. I remembered the bottle of champagne and a couple of drinks. What else had I done?

Looking up into the mirror I traced the puffy circles and shadows under my eyes. Running my fingers up to the top of my head I gingerly probed the knot under my hair. When had that happened? Had someone hit me with a wine bottle at some point? That’s what it felt like, but I doubt that had happened.

Opening the medicine cabinet I got out my toothbrush and toothpaste I had stashed there the other day and tried to remember what had happened the night before. I remembered feather boas, Gene Simmons, and Sam knocking a table over. As I tried to get rid of the awful taste in my mouth, the image of a man filled my mind. A stripper? I spit the toothpaste out and felt my brow furrow. He was certainly hot enough to be a stripper, but I hadn’t hired anyone to take their clothes off. The press would have a field day if that story got out. So why did I remember a really sexy man standing in Sam’s living room?

I dragged my sorry tail back into the guest room and rummaged around in my overnight bag. I refused to turn on the light. My head was pounding and even the memory of the sun made me want to cry. Pulling out a pair of jeans, I slid them on and found a shirt. My head hurt too bad to pull my hair out of my face so instead I left it down.

Grabbing a pair of sunglasses out of my purse, I slid them on and gave myself a pep talk. I had too much to do for the wedding to hide in bed all day. Though it sounded like a really good idea.

I didn’t hear anyone else moving about in the family wing as I made my way downstairs, so I hoped that everyone was still asleep. I needed more water and was not ready to talk to anyone. There was a knocked-over plant on the landing of the stairs and I knelt down to scoop up the dirt.

“Want some help?” The deep voice startled me so much that I stumbled off the step I was perched on and my sunglasses fell off my face. I looked up into the dark brown eyes that had haunted my thoughts this morning and gasped. My headache was forgotten as I stood there staring at him. He was leaning against the kitchen doorway, a coffee cup in one hand and a broom handle and dustpan in the other. “It took forever to find a broom in this place.”

“I thought you were a dream.” I instantly regretted the words.

“You dreamed about me?” His mouth pulled up into a delicious smirk.

“Um, no.” I brushed some of the hair out of my face and searched for words. “No. I, um. I don’t remember much about last night. It’s a bit hazy. And I certainly didn’t dream about you.”

“Well that’s a shame.” He winked at me. Setting his cup down on a small table, he handed me the broom and knelt down with the dustpan. “So you don’t remember asking me to take my clothes off?”

I stared down into his handsome face while my mouth gaped like a fish. Oh my good God. No wonder I had thought he was a stripper. I had asked him to take his clothes off. If I had been alone I would have beat my head against the wall. An image of Sam stopping his hands fluttered through my mind and my cheeks heated. I really had told him to take his clothes off.

Wrinkles appeared in the corner of his eyes and he chuckled. “I’d say forget about it, but it appears you already have.”

“I—I think it’s coming back to me now.” I swept the dirt into the dustpan and chewed on my lip. “I’m really sorry. I don’t usually drink that much. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever drunk that much before. Ever. And never will again.”

He poured the dirt back into the pot. When he stood my eyes lined up with the collar of his shirt, and I tried to not notice the way the material strained across his chest. My gaze trailed upward, over his scruffy jaw, nose, and sharp cheekbones to meet his warm stare.

“David Rhodes.” He held his hand out to me, his eyes running over my face.

“Yeah, I remember that now.” I wrapped my fingers around his. “I’m Cathy.”

“Nice to meet you, Cathy.” His fingers squeezed mine and his eyes twinkled with mischief. “Again.”

“I’ll never live last night down, will I?” I laughed.

“Not if I can help it.” His fingers tightened on mine briefly before he let go. “It’s not often that a princess orders me to take my clothes off.” His voice took on a distant tone.