Kira Sinclair - Caught Off Guard

The vision of her brother, dangling lifeless from the bathroom ceiling of their hotel suite, slammed into her brain anyway. Her muscles went rigid. Her lungs protested their sudden lack of oxygen as she forgot to breathe, forgot her surroundings, forgot everything but the nightmare. Curling her body into a ball, Anne shoved the heels of her hands into her eyes and laid her pounding head on her knees.

This was why she should have left last night. This was why she never stayed in a hotel. Not just Prescott hotels. Any hotel ever. After her brother’s suicide, she’d run away from the chaos, the guilt, the madness of the life she’d once led. She’d changed her name from Annemarie Prescott to plain Anne Sobel.

It had taken her years but she’d finally built herself a new life with no help from her mother or her trust fund. A life she could be proud of. A life with meaning outside whether or not she had the latest “it” accessory.

The downside was that for years she’d lived in fear of someone discovering who she really was and turning the information over for a quick buck. It had been a long time before the paparazzi had given up trying to uncover her hidey-hole. Birmingham, Alabama—not exactly first on their list of places to look. But now the world had moved on and found a new party girl to glorify, giving Anne a little room to breathe.

Taking on another persona, adopting her mother’s maiden name and pretending that Annemarie had never existed was worth it for a sense of peace.

And if she was lonely from time to time … well, that was a price she’d willingly pay again and again to be out from under her mother’s thumb and away from the memories and the girl she’d once been. Even though she’d been surrounded by people, she’d been just as alone in her old life, anyway. Or she would have been, without her brother.

Now, if she could just get out of here.

“Aspirin.”

The deep voice startled her, although she hadn’t for a second forgotten that she wasn’t alone. Her mind might have been swamped by nasty images of her past, but in some corner she’d been aware of Blake’s presence in the room with her.

His cupped hand appeared above her face, the long, tanned arm blocking her view of everything else. This was possibly a good thing.

A water bottle slid into her line of sight, strong fingers wrapped around opaque sides. She reluctantly uncoiled her body, careful to keep the covers caught tight to her chest which seemed like a stupid thing to do, all things considered.

She took the little white pills, downed them with one cold swallow and finally looked at him. Blake Mitchell. Her best friend’s older brother. The man she’d screwed six ways to Sunday last night.

Oh, she could blame it on the alcohol but she’d known, one-hundred-and-ten percent known, exactly what she was doing last night. And she’d wanted this man with a passion she hadn’t felt in … years. Of course, that didn’t exactly make what she’d done right.

Anne would be the first to admit that her upbringing had given her a skewed idea of what was appropriate. But even she knew that using her best friend’s brother for meaningless sex crossed the line. Especially given her history. Karyn might not care … but that didn’t take away the guilt gnawing at Anne’s insides.

Inappropriate sex had always been her slippery slope.

She wondered if it was seeing Karyn and Chris together that had pushed her over the edge, or just being in Mother’s hotel again. Either way, she’d obviously reverted to some very, very bad habits. Sexual pleasure could be just as much of a drug as crack cocaine.

Oh, she had sex. But in a very controlled environment with single men who understood that they were both simply getting off. No one got hurt. No one staked out her house to catch a compromising photo.

But with Blake, she hadn’t been able to stop herself from taking what she’d wanted. And that was probably what scared her most. She’d been so careful to control her affairs before. This one had not been planned.

Even now, she couldn’t keep her eyes away from him. His hair, burnt-toast brown, was disheveled. His chest was bare, hard and lean, and made her want to reach out and touch.

It would be so easy to lose herself in him again, to let him take the memories and the edge of bone-deep pain that being in this room caused her.

But she’d used Blake Mitchell enough last night. She couldn’t do it again.

He sat on the bed beside her, his hip rubbing against her own beneath the Egyptian-cotton sheets. She fought past the urge to reach out for him.

“Good morning.” His voice was gruff, rusty. “Karyn and Chris are leaving in about fifteen minutes. Do you want to head down to see them off?”

With a silent nod, the only response she could manage between the desire, self-loathing and guilt swimming around inside her, she watched as he unfolded from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.

Water sounded, the floor creaked against the weight of a full-grown male and the nightmares returned full force.

She couldn’t stay. She needed out of here. Now.

Anne swung her legs over the side of the bed, stood up just a little too fast for her head’s comfort and scanned the room. She was so worked up over Blake and the memories that it took several minutes to notice the bag in the corner. Her bag. The one that had been sitting in her trunk since she’d packed everything from Karyn’s parents’ place yesterday morning.

Ripping into it, she pulled out the first things she could find, a pair of well-worn jeans and a peach sweater. Clean panties and a bra helped make her feel somewhat human again. She brushed her hair, applied a minimum of makeup and finger brushed her teeth all in five minutes at the dresser mirror. She wasn’t waiting. And the hounds of hell would have had to drag her into that bathroom.

She grabbed her dress out of the closet—she’d spent a lot of money on it and would be damned before she left it. Besides, she really did love it. She threw a glance at the closed bathroom door, considered yelling her goodbye at Blake but thought better of it. Not very romantic. Besides, this way was better—he wouldn’t feel obligated to pretend he wanted something more than one night.

Ten minutes after waking up, Anne walked out the door and right into the lobby full of Karyn and Blake’s family.

Anne groaned. Any thought of skirting around the edges before anyone noticed her burned up in a flash as Karyn yelled across the large, echoing space.

“Anne. What are you doing here?”

“Ah.” Her brain was working at a distinct disadvantage, but as her friend rushed forward it seemed to kick in.

“Snowstorm, remember. There was no way I could drive home in that.”

Karyn slipped her arms around her in a big hug and squeezed tight, whispering in her ear, “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

Her friend leaned back, looked deep into her eyes and stared hard. Pinpricks of emotion she really didn’t want to deal with stung the backs of her eyes. Only Karyn.

From the moment they’d met, both working at Walker Technologies, she’d recognized something deep inside Karyn—a twin to the suppressed pain and loneliness that resonated in her own chest. Karyn had been hiding the secret of her rape; Anne had been hiding the secret of who she really was. She disguised her pain with bright smiles and a bubbly personality. Karyn had camouflaged hers with silence and solitude. At least until she’d met Chris. He’d helped heal her wounds.

Anne was happy Karyn had found someone who could do that for her. She knew she’d live with her own scars for the rest of her life. That was okay. Nothing and no one could wipe away the guilt she carried.