long silk evening gown. She had the look of a silent film star with big doe eyes until she opened those soft red lips. “What a trash heap,” she crowed. “I hope my room is cleaner than this foyer. Honestly, I can’t believe this is where Aaron chose to hold his party.”
Aaron? Now that Charlize had a name to put to this sexy-voiced billionaire, her interest waned at the sight of this diva. Judging by the familiar way she said Aaron’s name, those two definitely had something going on.
“Darcy Johansson’s my name.” The lady indicated the computer as if Charly was incapable of figuring out how to check her in. “I trust that Aaron arranged your best room for me.”
CHAPTER TWO
Oh no! Darcy was here. Aaron Mills grimaced against the aching of his head and backed slowly against the wall. A haze of exhaustion dragged down his brain and body so that he could barely move, let alone think, but he had enough sense left to hide from his latest ex-girlfriend.
He’d come downstairs to get... something. He couldn’t remember what. Strange what instincts still floated to the surface of his dreams. That’s what this was, right? Nothing felt quite real, even the squawks of Darcy’s voice. Every part of him wanted to lie down to sleep again, but the shrill notes of Darcy’s voice penetrated his ears. He felt his numb skin begin to crawl.
Where was he? He blinked, staring around a foyer that looked like it had come straight from the turn of the century with its weathered wooden checkout counter and subway tiled floors. The railings from the second floor cut off the arched ceilings above them. The lights glowed softly down. Somehow it was night. Aaron remembered coming the back way to the hotel with his security detail to get to his room. That was the afternoon... of today? He couldn’t be sure.
Memories flooded through him of Veronica at his side, his assistant to his assistant to his assistant... yeah, something was wrong with his brain. He supposed he was lucky to remember Veronica’s name right now, though he had clear memories of her in a red velvet gown, her soft body pressed against his side as she helped him into his room.
What had caused this? The motion sickness medication. That’s what he remembered everyone saying, though it had never affected him this way before. It felt strangely like an out-of-body experience. Veronica had assured his security that she could take care of him. Her sternly pursed lips had collided with his cheek as she led him stumbling into the room and dropped him fully clothed onto a four poster bed that seemed to clamp down on his limbs and suck him up so he couldn’t move.
Veronica had disappeared into the other room, still talking while he closed his eyes. When he’d opened his eyes again, he had no idea how much time had passed, but it was silent. He was sleeping in his jeans, and the clock across from him would focus.
He was thirsty. Really thirsty. His cellphone had disappeared and there wasn’t another phone anywhere to call for water, so he’d pushed off his bed onto the soft brown carpet and crawled for the door, clasping the doorknob. He’d somehow found his feet. His legs barely supported his weight. He’d often asked himself what Tara had gone through, after he’d witnessed her frustration of not being able to control the body she depended on... and having the disease control her instead. Was he dead now or sleepwalking?
At the moment, Aaron leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath while he listened to Darcy’s piercing demands on the other side of it. She was showing her true colors all right. Her voice that had only been purringly soft around him was jarring. Any normal person would’ve sent back his party’s invitation after the break up. Darcy wasn’t normal. Why had he ever gotten together with her when he’d had someone like Tara?
“Yes, I understand your concern,” the woman at the front desk reassured Darcy in a soothing voice. Now that didn’t hurt his ears; no, in fact, it felt like a lullaby. He peered around the corner and saw a pretty dark haired girl in a cute dress that flowed provocatively over all the right curves.
His heart jolted. Tara? No... he’d cut her hair, but in his tired state, he couldn’t be sure that wasn’t her. Nothing felt right, and if he was dead? Was