The Honeymoon That Wasn't

She sighed and snuggled down deeper into the cushions, letting one of her high heels slide off her foot. Her feet were long, narrow but dainty, and shining through the sheer black hose her toenails were a bright red.

Her tousled hair looked more sexy than messy, and thinking of how soft and warm and willing she’d been in the limo had him itching to get down to business. But not when she was like this. Coffee. Strong and black. He wondered if that really worked.

He looked away and studied the living room. The tropic-styled suite had to have cost a small fortune. Tony was no expert on decorating or art but he knew about wood and carpentry and the hardwood floors alone had set the owner back a year’s rent for a Queens apartment. Anyone could tell that the rattan furniture was of the highest quality and the artwork on the walls and interesting native pieces casually set on corner pedestals weren’t cheap knockoffs. Expensive knockoffs maybe.

Even the bar area was no afterthought. At least ten feet across against a mirrored wall, the back shelf was stocked with full-size bottles of premium brands and not the miniature version. The refrigerator was full size, too, and loaded with different varieties of beer, according to Otis. Four bar stools with blue-and-cream-colored seats that matched the couch were arranged around the tall, curved rattan bar.

No fake plants either. Eight-foot palms stood on either side of the sliding glass door to the balcony. It was dark but he knew they faced the ocean. Not just because the front desk clerk had told him. Tony could hear the waves lapping the shore.

Man, it sucked that Dallas and Eric had spent all this money and Tom was screwing up their plans. No doubt they had something equally nice someplace else but that wasn’t the point. It wasn’t even about the money. Tony had already decided he’d pay for the suite and everything else this weekend. He didn’t care what Dallas said. But it was all the hassle she’d gone through to counter Tom’s prank that irritated Tony.

He couldn’t think about that right now. It pissed him off too much and he had another problem to consider…sobering up Dakota. His gaze went back to Dakota. For a second he thought he saw her eyes open, but as he moved closer he realized it had to have been a trick of the light.

He’d already lost the bow tie and shrugged out of the jacket. He draped it over the rattan chair that matched the couch and bar stools, and then grabbed their bags and carried them to the bedroom.

The friggin’ bedroom was almost as big as the living room, with a canopied king-size bed and one of those white nettings you only see in movies draped over it and tied back to the bedposts. There was another couch and another sliding glass door that led to a separate balcony. More palms, more paintings.

He found the large walk-in closet and placed their bags on the built-in luggage racks. Kicking off his shoes, he unfastened his belt at the same time and then hung it on a gold-plated hook behind the door. He pulled his shirt from the waistband of his pants and started unbuttoning it as he walked out into the bedroom.

Dakota stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Frowning slightly, she tried to smooth her hair. A few curls sprang back to rest on her cheek. “Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Where are we?”

He cleared his throat. “You don’t remember anything.”

“Well, yes, of course I do.” Her gaze slid down to his exposed chest, lingered for a long satisfying moment.

“What exactly do you remember?”

“The wedding.”

“I hope so.” He chuckled. “And?”

She put two fingers to her temple. “Wow, do I have a headache.”

“Yeah, a vat of wine will do that.”

She gave him a glare that was immensely reassuring. Yup, she was definitely coming around.