Anything but Vanilla(73)

Only to find that her stupid key didn’t work.

* * *

Donovan was relieved Lorelei had left in a huff. He’d been awake for about fifteen minutes before her, and he’d spent that time anticipating a number of equally horrific and awkward scenarios.

But Lorelei had gone straight to indignation and huff—which, in this case, had been more than he’d dared hope for.

Of all the women who’d attended what was arguably the biggest society wedding of the decade, he’d managed to hook up with Lorelei LaBlanc. He’d known both Connor and Vivi at least tangentially since high school and, while they might not be close friends or anything, they were business associates and often traveled in the same social circles now.

He might be considered an interloper by some in those social circles, since his blood wasn’t quite as blue as theirs, but no one had the courage to say that to his face anymore. And, while he might not have generations of Old South manners ingrained into him, even he knew it was bad form to bed the sister of the bride after the reception.

Yeah, pretending it had never happened was an excellent idea.

Another excellent idea was liberal quantities of aspirin and coffee until he felt human again. That might take days.

The little two-cup coffeemaker on the desk didn’t have the best quality coffee included, but it would do for now. He set it to start and the smell of coffee soon filled the room.

The jackhammering behind his eyes had been honestly earned. He’d lost count of the tequila shots, but there might have been a bet involved about who could drink who under the table. He and Lorelei had never been friends, never hung out together, so how they’d got to that point last night was a mystery.

Lorelei had been a couple of years or so behind him in school—and they certainly hadn’t traveled in the same circles in those days. St. Katharine’s Prep was the school of choice for New Orleans’s best families. A safe haven for their precious children from the riff-raff of society, with only a couple of charity-case scholarship students as a nod to “diversity.” The Lorelei he remembered had been spoiled, narcissistic and stuck up. Even when he’d morphed from one of those scholarship students to the son of a major donor by his senior year, Lorelei hadn’t deigned to give him the time of day.

Oddly, he respected her for that. She might be shallow, but she’d proved herself to have slightly more depth than most of her socialite friends when the sudden influx of money into his family’s bank account hadn’t changed her attitude toward him at all.

Tequila had, though.

He had a few hours before checkout, and the need for a nap was nearly overwhelming, but if he headed on home he could nap in his own bed—a bed that did not now carry the scent of Lorelei’s perfume. He might not remember exactly everything that happened last night, but he remembered enough that the light fragrance sent a stab of pure desire through him and made the scratch marks on his back burn. Lorelei certainly had stamina.

He turned on the TV for background noise and picked a news station to listen to while he waited on the coffee. He still had to decide on a topic for Monday’s column, and...

The phone rang. Not his phone, but the hotel’s phone. Who would be calling him here? “Hello?”

“Open your door and let me back in.” The voice was quiet, whispery.

“Who is this?”

“Oh, for the love of... How many other women would need to get back into your room this morning?”

“Why aren’t you in your own room?”

“Because my key won’t work.” It sounded as if

Lorelei was spitting the words through clenched teeth. “I’m now stuck in the stairwell, so will you please open your door and let me in?”

The image of Lorelei hiding in a stairwell caused him to laugh—which then made his head hurt. He heard her sharp intake of breath, followed by some muttering that probably wasn’t very flattering to him. It was tempting to leave her there, just for the amusement factor and a much-needed ego-check. But Connor and Vivi might not be happy to hear about that.

He relented. “Come on.”

He returned the phone to its cradle and crossed the room. Opening the door, he stuck his head out. A few doors down, he saw Lorelei’s dark head do the same. After seeing that the hallway was empty, she sprinted for his door, nearly mowing him down in her haste to get inside. “You could have just knocked, you know.”

Lorelei didn’t seem to appreciate that statement, shooting him the pissiest look he’d ever seen. “This is a nightmare.”