Out of the Blue

CHAPTER 1 THE HEAT OF the sun on my face woke me, and for a few seconds, I couldn’t remember where I was. Certainly not at home because the converted attic I slept in didn’t have any windows. I cracked open one heavy eyelid. An expanse of opulent plum carpet stretched out in front of me, all the way to a pair of glass doors, and silver railings around the balcony beyond glinted as the light caught them. The sun itself blazed high in a cloudless sky, a ball of fire that caused me to squint. It all came back to me then. An airplane ride, Las Vegas, the sales jolly—sorry, symposium. My asshole of a fiancé. In daylight, the Strip didn’t look quite so impressive. The hotel opposite was dusty rather than glitzy, the gaudy lights that lit it at night an illusion of glamour that didn’t hold up under scrutiny. This was my last day in the city, thank goodness. The three-day trip had been a chore rather than a pleasure. But at least the bed was comfortable. I cocooned myself under the quilt, hoping for another half hour of sleep on a mattress far more comfortable than my lumpy affair back home. Getting up would mean a return to reality, or rather, to Norsville, Texas. The tiny town perched on the edge of the mainland just across from Galveston. In high school, the jocks had called it Snoresville and the geeks had called it Nowheresville. Two very different groups of people with one thing in common; they both left town the moment they could. Some took jobs in Galveston or even Houston—anywhere with a bit of nightlife and neighbours who didn’t get all up in your business. Others moved farther away to attend college, only returning for the holidays when family custom dictated that it was their duty to visit. Not me. I stayed put. My life was going nowhere, or rather, staying there. Because in a little under three weeks from now, I’d be marrying Wade Bruckman. Twenty days until my life got flushed well and truly down the toilet. Four hundred and eighty hours, 28,800 minutes, 1,728,000 seconds. I’d hated Wade from the moment I met him, long before he blackmailed me into going through with this charade. The arrogant son of a b***h took after his father, who by some fluke of genetics had ended up owning half of Norsville and part of the neighbouring town too. Wade’s grandparents had bought the land cheap decades ago, and now he used his birthright to make other people’s lives a misery. Including mine, although my stepdaddy helped him out there. The thought of my upcoming nuptials made my stomach turn. I’d had a recurring nightmare for the past few weeks where I walked down the aisle and flipped my veil up, only to find Wade had turned into a grotesque monster with horns and a tail. Which wasn’t too far from the truth, really. I screwed my eyes shut again, trying to block out the sun. Had I dreamed of the devil again last night? I couldn’t remember. An image flashed through my mind. Not Wade, but another man—muscular, toned, with blond hair instead of brown. Clearly I’d been reading too many of my sister’s romance novels. I shook my head to erase the picture, and the faint throbbing in my temples signalled a killer headache just waiting to burst onto the scene. And that damn guy still lurked at the corner of my subconscious. I couldn’t help licking my lips, but my mouth was drier than Death Valley itself, and the bottom half of my face felt like somebody had sandpapered it. Water. I needed water. And Tylenol. I spied my purse on a chair in the corner of the room, an industrial-sized bottle of pills hidden safely within it. I’d been getting a lot of headaches recently—no prizes for guessing why. A sigh escaped my lips at the thought of getting up, but it was no good. I needed to do it. I stretched my legs out under the quilt until my knees clicked, and then I did the same with my arms, reaching up until I hit the headboard behind me. With the kinks worked out, I rolled over. Or at least, I tried to. A warm lump blocked my way, and I didn’t know whether to hit it or run. What was it? Or rather, who? Not Wade, that was for sure. I’d cited traditional values and refused to share a bed with him until our wedding day, even though that was only putting off the inevitable. He was safely ensconced in a deluxe suite on the twentieth floor while I was stuck in a “tier one” room on the eighth, which basically meant I got a bed and bathroom, albeit very nice ones. Natural instinct took over and I screamed. Seconds later, a tousled head of blond hair popped out from under the quilt, a lazy smile quirking at the corners of the owner’s mouth. My eyes widened as I recognised the man I’d shaken out of my head a few moments ago. Could I be seeing things? His smile faded. “Well, that’s not the reaction I usually get when a woman wakes up.” Unless I was hearing things as well, he was real. I scrambled into a sitting position, clutching the dark-purple quilt in front of me like a shield. “How did you get here? Why are you in my bed?” He rubbed his stubbly chin and blinked a couple of times. Finally, he shook his head. “Honestly? I have no idea how I got here, but I can take a fair guess as to why.” I wriggled sideways, putting some space between us. Unfortunately, I didn’t think that move through because it pulled the quilt off him completely, and I quickly realised that his body matched up to the picture in my dirty mind as well. Every single inch. Nope, he wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, and his muscles weren’t the only things that were big. Hot damn—it was pointing right at me. I squeezed my eyes shut again, wishing this would all go away. The stranger chuckled. “Looks like someone’s happy to see you.” I tried to think again, and the bowling ball careening around inside my skull shook something loose. The bar. This had all started in the bar last night. I’d travelled to Vegas with my mother, my stepdaddy Clayton, and Wade. Clayton owned a car dealership in Norsville, and Wade worked for him as a salesman. They’d dressed this up as work trip—some conference to learn how to sell even more clunkers to unsuspecting schmucks—when in reality they spent their days drinking and their evenings drinking even more. I’d rather have taken an adventure vacation in Iraq than come with them, but wives and girlfriends were expected to attend the two formal evening events, so as Wade’s fiancée designate, I’d been dragged along too. Last night, I’d pulled on the hideous dress Wade had picked out for me and headed to the second event, a three-course sit-down meal with cabaret. And wine. Yes, the wine had been my downfall. After the anger and humiliation of the first event, I’d decided getting drunk early would be the best strategy. That way, I rationalised, perhaps I wouldn’t feel so upset when my stepdaddy introduced me as the daughter he’d been forced to take on at the age of seven—forced, as if I was an employee rather than a child. And when a pudgy stranger groped me on the dance floor, maybe I wouldn’t remember the touch of his hands quite so vividly. Only I must have drunk more alcohol than I’d intended. Another memory flitted back, this time of me sneaking away from our table after Wade upset me yet again. Of course, he didn’t notice because he was dancing with a brunette who wore a skirt so short I’d class it as a belt, his sweaty body pressed up against her like they were Siamese twins. But that wasn’t what had driven me to the bar. The brunette was welcome to him. If Wade had taken her off to the Little White Wedding Chapel after the song ended, I’d have celebrated with a dance of my own. No, he’d upset me in the elevator before we even made it to dinner. We’d been alone when he pressed me up against the mirrored wall and shoved his hand between my legs. “Three weeks and this’ll be mine, sweet thing.” I’d had nowhere to go. Wade was six inches taller and a whole lot heavier than me. I couldn’t even look him in the eye without craning my neck back. I was trapped in every way. When I didn’t answer, he’d grinned, but his eyes shone with lust. “I hope you like it rough.” Two hours later, I’d still felt ill at the thought of it, not to mention scared. The prospect of him forcing himself inside me left me contemplating a leap off the balcony. I’d never slept with any man, let alone a sadistic asshole who got off on my pain. I had, however, googled the details and terrified myself by reading others’ tales of how much it hurt the first time. When we exited the elevator, I’d been shaking, and Wade must have noticed. Not that he cared. This was all a game to him. I was the mouse to his cat—a toy to be played with until he went in for the kill. And the clock was counting down. Tick, tick, tick. That was why I’d found myself sitting on a bar stool yesterday evening, throwing back a vile cocktail the bartender had pushed in front of me—whether out of generosity or pity, I wasn’t sure. And fuelled by vodka, gin, and who knew what else, I’d come up with a plan. At the time, the idea had made perfect sense, but now, with the aftermath lying in bed beside me, not so much. All I needed to do, drunk me had reasoned, was go out that very night and find myself a nicer man than Wade—which let’s face it, wasn’t a difficult task—and lose my virginity to him. Not only would I have the satisfaction of giving what Wade wanted to somebody else, but I’d also know what to expect on my wedding night. So, the question was, had my plan come to fruition? The strangely exquisite throbbing between my legs suggested that was a definite possibility, and I half moaned, half groaned. What the hell had I been thinking? Oh, that’s right, I hadn’t. And now I had a problem to deal with. A big one. Even with my eyes closed, I could still see him. His perfectly proportioned face, his straight nose, his strong jaw. Piercing blue eyes and that messy shoulder-length hair I wanted to tangle my fingers in. Wide, powerful shoulders leading to a tanned chest and chiselled abs. Then his... No! I shouldn’t even be thinking about that. But at least drunk me hadn’t been blind as well. His voice broke into my thoughts, hoarse and deep. “Are you going to open your eyes again, or am I that bad to look at?” Open my eyes? No, I didn’t want to do that. How far was the balcony? Six steps? Seven? One swift leap, a few seconds of exhilaration, and it would all be over. Only the thought of Lottie, my sister, kept me from running to the window. Which meant I needed to apologise. I wasn’t sure exactly what for, but I very much suspected I’d taken advantage of the poor man next to me yesterday evening and possibly part of this morning too. “I’m so sorry.” That got me an amused chuckle. “Sorry that I’m bad to look at?” “No, no, of course not. You’re very pleasant to look at.” How did other women thrive on hookups? This morning would fuel my nightmares for years, the kindling to Wade’s gasoline. “I meant, I’m sorry for whatever it was we did last night.” I forced myself to woman-up and look at my companion. His smile was back. And he was still very much under-dressed. Keep your eyes on his face, Chess. “Why?” he asked. “I’m not sorry. At least, I’m pretty sure I’m not. Can you remember what happened? Things are kinda…hazy.” So it wasn’t only my memory that was acting up. Should I be relieved or upset by that? “Uh, not really. Do you think we did it?” “It?” “You know…” My cheeks heated, and I was sure they’d gone quite pink. “It.” “You mean did we f**k?” Well, I wouldn’t have put it quite so crudely. “Yes.” The word came out as a whisper. He leaned to the side and peered over the edge of the bed. Curiosity got the better of me, and I shuffled sideways on my butt to look too. A condom lay on the floor, the shrivelled evidence of alcohol and bad decisions, and the white gloop leaking from the end of it gave me my answer. The blond guy came to the same conclusion. “Yeah, I’d say we did.”