What bothered him was the woman lying in the bed.
CHAPTER THREE
SKYLAR WOKE TO find her head still pounding. This time it felt as if someone was having a fireworks display inside her skull.
It was still dark in the room and it took her a moment to remember what had happened.
Her relationship with Richard was over.
Over, over, over.
She relived the evening in fast-forward, from the moment he’d taken the microphone to the moment she’d had to sprint to the bathroom.
She’d been ill, and in front of Alec Hunter of all people.
Why, oh why, couldn’t she have lost her memory?
She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow to muffle the groan, and then a horrible thought occurred to her and she lifted her head and checked the bed next to her.
It was empty.
Well, that was something to be grateful for. She might have crashed in the wrong bed, but at least she hadn’t slept with the enemy.
Feeling wobbly and thoroughly irritated with herself, she slid out of bed and saw Alec asleep on the sofa. He was too tall and broad for it and she suspected he’d had a very uncomfortable night. Strands of dark hair flopped over his handsome face, signposting a bone structure that made the artist in her want to reach for a pencil.
Sleep softened his hard features and made him seem more approachable.
And of course last night she’d seen a different side of him.
He’d been cool, competent and … kind.
Alec being kind was the last thing she would have expected.
Unlike the man she’d been dating, who had behaved like an unprincipled rat, Alec had refused to abandon her. He’d brought her back here, mo
pped up the blood and held her head while she’d been sick.
That, in her mind, had earned him enough points that he could pretty much do anything and she’d never be able to criticize him again.
Later, she knew that would irritate her, but for now she was grateful.
Grabbing her bag, she dragged herself to the bathroom and recoiled from her reflection.
No wonder he’d wanted to take her to hospital.
She could have starred in A Christmas Carol as one of the ghosts.
Lifting her hair, she studied her face. The corner of the table had caught her above the eye, lacerating the skin, but not badly enough for her to require stitches. Worse, was the bruising. She pulled her hair forward, experimenting as she tried to cover the damage.
Another wave of dizziness hit her and she closed her eyes.
When she opened them again she saw her silver dress rinsed and folded on a towel along with his white shirt.
Only one person could have done that.
Alec.
Rinsing would have ruined the dress, but it was ruined anyway and she was touched that he’d bothered.