CHAPTER47
The sun piercing tiny slices through the drapes is worse than having salt poured in my eyes. The nausea hits as I try to sit up and my mouth waters crazily. My cell is by the bed and I realize it’s been switched off. I never switch it off! I don’t even know what time it is; I could have missed a multitude of calls.
I swallow down the bile and reach for the glass beside my bed, lukewarm water will have to do. I know I should remember last night, but after my third drink I don’t remember much else. I don’t do hard liquor, so it’s no surprise.
I’m a total lightweight.
I know at one point Jake came back. I think.
Maybe.
I have strange images of him leaning over me with his tie hanging free; I’m not even sure if it was a dream or a memory from another time.
I shower fast to combat the dizziness then walk into the living room to ram toast and Tylenol down my throat in a bid to recover quickly. The place is silent, and I guess that Jake is still in bed. I remember that Felicity is here; I’d forgotten about her. I always try and ignore his female guests. At least I slept through her screaming for once, which is the only upside to my hangover.
My head winces every time I move, and I’m having to sip water to keep the gag reflex at bay. I’m regretting drinking brandy immensely.
What the hell was I thinking? Why did I let it get to me that much? Why did I let that idiot get under my skin?
I usually have more resolve than that, but I think it was the shock. It’s been twelve years since his last contact, and although I knew he would resurface one day, I hadn’t expected it yesterday.
I’m wearing workout clothes as I intend to hit the gym when the nausea subsides, to sweat this out of my system. I’m glad we don’t have any meetings today, nothing planned until this evening with a late client dinner. I might be able to get through it if we’re working from here.
It’s 9.00 a.m. and I wonder why Jake’s not up. Even on weekends he never sleeps past six, even with a hangover, and this isn’t like him.
I don’t have to ponder it for long as he walks in the door wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt soaked in sweat. He’s already been down at the gym and has a towel draped around his neck. He is bright and cheery as usual; he’s a morning person, something I’m not and never have been. I smile with effort as he walks in, then grimace as I just feel awful.
“Morning, shorty,” he smiles back.
“Morning,” I mumble.
“How’s the head?”
“Sore,” I sigh and almost wince in reply.
“There are painkillers in the bathroom.” He flashes me a happy smile as he walks past the couch.
“I got some already.” I shake a packet in the air as proof.
“Have you eaten?” He walks across toward the kitchenette, always intent on whatever he is doing, always at home in our suites.
“Yup.”
“Good. Quickest way to recover from a hangover. Can you order me some breakfast? I’m going for a shower.” He’s at the fridge drinking a bottle of water, then throws me his special ‘I’ll floor you with my sexy smile’ smile and raises his eyebrow in way of thanks as he stalks off to his room.
I wonder where Miss Crane is as I watch his rather too-pert ass sauntering away and guess she’s still asleep. Jake must have exhausted her last night, and it instantly pisses me off, killing any good mood I may have thought of having today.
Ughhh!"
