open a few inches. If so, he was definitely in some kind of garage or building.
He pushed toward the Mercedes’ back door, caught the handle and gave it a shove. The exertion sent the pounding in his head up another notch, and he groaned. As he eased out of the vehicle, he wondered if staying inside hadn’t been the smarter choice. It was fucking freezing out here.
He wrapped his arms around himself, pulled the tux jacket tight against his body to conserve heat, and took slow steps toward the door ahead. The light was soft, as if from a lamp, and warmth radiated from the room before he even reached the threshold.
Heat was good. No matter what was on the other side of that door, it was better than staying out here and freezing his nuts off.
He placed one hand on the solid wood, more to steady himself than anything else, and pushed.
It was an apartment of some kind. The room stopped churning long enough so he could make out a TV in the far corner. Beat-up furniture filled the space. His wobbly gaze landed on the figure curled up in a ball on the sofa.
“Hey,” he said in a raspy voice he barely recognized. He cleared his throat as the figure stirred. He’d tear off some-one’s head if he didn’t get the hell out of here and back to his suite at the Waldorf pronto. There was an Alka-Seltzer there with his name on it. “What the hell is going—”
The figure sat bolt upright, blinked several times and stared at him with big, brown, stunned eyes. And suddenly he couldn’t remember just what he’d wanted to know in the first place.
“Oh, shit,” he whispered.
The blood rushed from his head and went due south, leaving him lightheaded and shaky. No way this was happening. He was still drunk. That was the only explanation. He was tripped out on some seriously bad champagne and hallucinating because this wasn’t real. He wasn’t staring at Katherine Meyer alive and in the flesh because she was dead.
She rose slowly from the couch.
Stunned into silence, all he could do was stare as she rubbed her hands against her thighs and took a cautious step toward him.
It looked like Kat. A variation anyway. This woman’s hair was nearly black and cut short as a boy’s. But the face—holy hell—the face was the same. The same wide doe eyes, the same pouty lips, the same dark mole on the upper right side of her mouth.
“Pete. You startled me. I…are you okay?”
It sounded like her, too. His eyes widened in disbelief.
Her gaze darted over his face. “You look a little better. How do you feel?”
How did he feel? Like he’d just been hit by a bulldozer, head-on.
He barely managed to catch the door handle for support before his legs gave out. His mouth dropped open, a thousand questions fired off in his brain, and though he tried to form words, he couldn’t get his lips to work.
Hallucinating. You’re hallucinating, man. That’s the only explanation.
“I tried to move you, but you were like dead weight, and I, well, I’m a little tired after everything else. So I got you a blanket and left the door open. I know it was cold out there…”
Her words trailed off. And she closed her mouth quickly at what he knew had to be his stunned expression. Then sank her top teeth into her bottom lip the way Kat always had when she’d been shy or uncertain about something. “I guess you’re ready to chat. I think it’s safe to say you look a little surprised.”
Surprised?
No fucking way.
The room jackknifed. He knew he was going under like a class-A pansy, but he couldn’t stop it. His vision blurred and darkened until the only thing left was utter blackness and the sound of a voice he’d never been able to forget.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Pete. Oh, Pete. Please wake up.”
He knew that voice.
Through a fog, Pete struggled to consciousness. He’d been here before. Knew he was dreaming. Knew it was stupid to let himself get sucked in again because he’d invariably wake up feeling ten times worse than he did now.
But her scent was strong. Clean, fresh, reminiscent of the night-blooming jasmine she’d always loved. Yet some-how…bolder, spicier, more her. Before he could stop himself, he reached out to wrap his fingers around her arms and draw her close.
Her skin was as silky soft as he remembered, her heat warming the coldest space deep in his chest. His