Until There Was You(35)

“You need anything?” he asked. She didn’t answer. Might have been sleeping already. Liam stood there a second or two. Should he put her under the covers? He hesitated, then just folded the bedspread over her and looked around. Back in his youth, he’d been something of an expert at putting drunks to bed, but it had been a while. He put the trashcan next to the bed in case she needed to puke. Went to the kitchen, got a glass of water and a couple aspirin and put them on the night table, then glanced around to see if there was anything else she might need.

This room hadn’t been used yet; he and Nicole hadn’t had any guests, though Cammie, her closest friend from San Diego, might come out this summer. And someday, much sooner than he wanted to acknowledge, his daughter would go off to college, and he’d be stuck with two empty bedrooms instead of just one. Then again, maybe she’d come back to visit and bring some friends, and the apartment would be full and happy.

Cordelia gave a little snort, then murmured something.

She was kind of cute in an elflike way, with that stick-up hair and little chin, those long wispy eyelashes. And that mouth. Not an ounce of fat on her, not much in the way of a rack, either. Nice legs, cute feet. His eyes wandered back to her mouth. That was a nice mouth. All the rest of her was lean and spare, but her lips were lush and full and pretty damn tempting.

Cordelia used to have quite a crush on him back in the day, he remembered. She’d follow him around like a little duckling who’d imprinted on the wrong thing. Given that the Osterhagens had been good to him, he kept his distance. Wouldn’t be cool to let their kid fall for some punk fresh out of juvie. So he ignored her many attempts at conversation until her initial crush cooled.

Suddenly the red-faced guy clicked. Had he dated Cordelia? Liam had some flash of memory of that guy… Rob? No, Rick. Rick and Cordelia together…or maybe not. Maybe he was thinking of someone else. Those days were kind of a blur…?. Bellsford was the eleventh place he’d lived in seventeen years, and he’d learned not to get real attached, which had worked just fine. Until Emma, that was.

His charge gave another snort and turned on her side.

“’Night, Cordelia,” he said and closed the door gently behind him.

POSEY’S FIRST THOUGHT on waking was not optimistic. No. It was that the sunlight hated her, and really, God was quite cruel in sending this blindingly painful day, and why did her mouth taste like a landfill for poopy diapers?

She clamped a pillow over her head and groped for the comfort of Shilo. Empty. And hang on a sec…this pillow…it was foam. And her pillows were not. Hers were down. She cracked open an eye. These sheets were blue.

Her sheets were yellow.

Posey bolted upright, pain kicking her head like an angry mule. Where was she? Holy Elvis Presley, where was she? The room was nowhere she’d ever been. Ever.

In a panic, she looked around, wincing. Oh, man, the party. Otto passing over drinks like they were M&Ms, those tiny appetizers, Gretchen taking over Guten Tag. So, what happened after that? She must’ve gone home with someone. She’d picked someone up. Or been picked up. This was something she’d never, ever done before.

But that dress on the floor…that was hers. Boots…hers. Panties…oh, man! They were hers, too… Which meant…

Posey lifted the covers and glanced down.

She was naked. Oh, bieber. Who? How? What?

Just then, a soft knock came on the door. She opened her mouth to say something, but only a squeak came out.

The door cracked. And Liam Declan Murphy looked in.

Posey yanked the covers to her chin, thoughts sloshing around like toxic waste in her sore brain. Liam? Liam Murphy? Oh, no. Oh, man. She was officially a slut. A slut! And for nothing… She’d slept with him, and she didn’t even remember. What a waste of her first slutty night ever!

And Liam. Did he actually take her home and…do things to her? Had he also been, um…impaired? A memory floated to the surface—Liam had carried her somewhere! Horrifying! Thrilling, too, but mostly horrifying.

“Hey,” he said, and there was a very appealing half grin on his face. His unshaven face. His gorgeous, unshaven, smiling face.

“Hi,” she whispered, drawing up her knees to her chin, trying to disappear. Yes. Disappearing—or melting—or spontaneous combustion, any of those would be most welcome right about now.

He glanced at her clothes for a long moment, then at her face, which was on fire. “How are you feeling this morning?” he said, and his voice was just a purr, oh, bieber, bieber, bieber!

“Um…you know,” she managed to squeak.

He sat on the edge of the bed. And she was naked. Her spine was already digging into the headboard. Unless she tunneled through the wall, she couldn’t get any farther away. And how bad was her breath at this moment? Because it felt like she’d swallowed a decomposing dragon.

“Want some coffee?” he asked.

“No. Thanks. No, thanks, I mean.”

“So…” Liam said, and, lordy, he smelled good. He must’ve showered, because his hair was damp, and even though she really didn’t approve of people getting drunk and sleeping with men they didn’t really know that well or even like that much, Posey’s lady parts seemed to stretch like a waking cat. Hello! Liam Murphy is sitting inches from your na**d body. Do something. Now.

“Um…Liam,” Posey began, gripping the covers to her chin.