Autumn Getaway (Seasons of Love) (30 page)

After a minute, Lydia flung the covers back and went into the bathroom. She relieved herself, then rinsed her mouth out several times with cold water and took a long drink. As she rummaged through Sam's toiletries for some mouthwash—
ah! he had some, thank God
, she thought. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and groaned again. It could have been worse, but it was certainly not her best. She ran her fingers through her thick, slightly tangled hair, trying to tame it into submission. Her eye makeup had barely smeared, amazingly enough; but her lips were pale, naked, and dry, screaming for artificial color to help her look more alive, or at least some lip balm. She gnawed on her bottom lip to force some color into it as Sam’s words crashed around in her head:
We clicked right away. There was just something there, right from the start. I thought we both felt it… why are you so stunned that I’d want to see you again?

She shook her head at her reflection in the mirror.
Too good to be true.
She wanted to, but just couldn’t, believe him. Men you just met didn’t talk like that. Not unless they were lying. She used the mouthwash and spat it fiercely into the sink before looking at herself again.

God, she wanted to believe everything he'd said… all those lovely, sweet words… and there was Sam's gentle, rational ending to the discussion:
We’re both tired. This is something we should continue to discuss further in the morning, with fresh heads, when we’re not exhausted.

He’d be expecting to pick up the loaded conversation where they’d left off. Half of her was thrilled by the things he'd said, and the other half just couldn't believe him. If he wanted to take it all back, she'd totally understand, but at the same time… she'd be embarrassed. Slightly mortified. Even somewhat crushed. She just wasn't ready for that. Especially not before coffee.

She recognized that she was scrambling, and was mad at herself for it. But she needed space. She needed time to think, to get herself together. She needed to leave.

She went back into the bedroom and looked around for her clothes. Her beautiful burgundy silk dress was laid out carefully on the couch beneath the window. She realized that Sam must have placed it there for her when he woke up in the morning; she clearly remembered how, last night, he had helped her out of it: slowly pulling down the zipper along her back, easing her out of it with warm, skilled hands… and then, once they'd hit the bed, how he'd tossed it across the room with a deliciously sinful smile. His eyes had rounded and lit at the sight of her revealed to him, and it had made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

Last night had been incredible.

Last night… Sam had taken her by the hand and led her out of the lounge with everyone watching.
Everyone.
Only now did the ramifications of that start to hit home; she could only imagine what scathing comments Alec and Paige would have ready when she walked into the brunch. The grilling session that Donna, Kathryn, and Melanie would have in store. The looks she'd possibly get from Sam's parents, or even Melanie's parents, or from any of the people who'd been in the lounge and aware of them… her headache was picking up steam, getting strong enough to make the thought of facing anyone seem like too much to deal with just then.

She looked at the dress, then closed her eyes and winced as she realized that it was the only thing she had to wear. She’d have to put the dress back on to return to her room. If anyone she recognized saw her, sneaking back to her own room wearing last night’s clothes, she would possibly die of mortification. It was almost kind of funny to get caught doing that in your twenties; it was simply wretched to get caught doing it in your late thirties.

But there was no other way.
Suck it up and deal
, she told herself coldly. After finding her bra on the floor next to the bed, she removed Sam’s long black T-shirt and shimmied into the dress. She folded the T-shirt neatly and placed it on the arm of the couch. She looked at it for a few seconds, touched it wistfully, then turned to look back at the messy bed. Her heart rate jumped as steamy scenes from the night before replayed in her head, again like flashes of lightning. Her face heated as she remembered.

Sam was, without question, the most sensual and passionate man she had ever gotten physical with in her entire life. She could still vividly recall how his lips had felt on her, his hands… she remembered some of the lusty things he'd whispered into her ear as he'd advanced on her… a shiver went through her entire body and she closed her eyes as she quickly recalled some of the more sultry, breathtaking moments. How she had managed to stick to her guns and not have sex with him was utterly beyond her.

Either I’m way stronger than I thought
, Lydia muttered to herself inwardly,
or I’m just the dumbest woman who ever lived. Probably both.

She found her shoes—one by the bed, one by the closet—and put them on. She picked up her handbag and went to leave as she saw Sam’s note to her out of the corner of her eye. She strode back to the bed, picked it up, and read it again. Sighing, she sank down onto the mattress.
What am I doing?
Sam was more than charming and witty, more than attractive and sexy as hell. He was a genuinely sweet, good-natured guy. He’d been open with her, sensitive to her, and treated her with total respect. Even if she couldn’t let herself believe all the things he'd said, he certainly didn’t deserve to come back to an empty room and no explanation. He deserved so much better than that. She scolded herself harshly for her panicky, immature impulses. She could do better than that, and no matter how flustered she was right then, she
had
to.

Okay
, she decided. New plan: go back to her room, take a long shower, think hard, and go down to the brunch to see Sam and see what would happen.

She folded his note carefully and put it in her handbag; she’d have a keepsake of their night together, evidence to have and to hold, no matter what. She found the hotel stationery and a pen in the long, middle drawer of the writing desk. She gnawed at her bottom lip as she tried to decide what to say.

Sam,
she wrote.
Good morning. Got your note. Hope you enjoyed your run. I went back to my room to shower and get dressed. I’ll meet you at the brunch—I always take too long to get ready, and would hate to think of you having to wait for me. You go ahead. See you downstairs.—Lydia

She pulled the heavy, ornate velvet comforter up over the bed, making it neater, and left the note in the center of the bed, where Sam wouldn’t be able to miss it. She took a quick last look around the room. A pang of wistfulness hit her. She had so enjoyed her night with him. It had been fantastic, beyond her expectations… clutching her handbag, she walked out, closing the door behind her.

She checked the long hallway. Empty, thank God. Sam’s room was on the third floor, hers was on the second. Keeping her eyes averted and head down, she quickly got to the staircase and swept down them in a blind rush. But because her head was down, she didn’t see anyone coming down the hallway until she literally slammed into him.

“Careful,” Alec said, catching Lydia’s arms to steady her as she bounced off his chest. Something wicked flashed in his eyes, and a salacious grin popped onto his face.

“I'm so sorry,” she began to apologize as she looked up. When she saw who she’d collided with, her eyes widened and her face flushed bright red.

Alec laughed lightly, obviously amused. He let go of her. “Well, well. Good morning.”

She pressed her lips together and just stared at Sam’s brother, unable to think of anything witty or clever to say, feeling stupid and exposed. His eyes glided over her slowly, and a dark eyebrow arched. She felt smaller, somehow degraded, just from his cool, assessing stare. His condemnation of her came off him in palpable waves.

Alec cleared his throat and said with smooth sarcasm, “Mrs. Powell. You look
fantastic
. You know, I liked that dress yesterday too. Really held up remarkably well, huh?”

Her blush deepened.

“In a hurry?” he asked dryly. His stare turned even more haughty. “Where are you running off to? Or, should I say, running away
from
? But I guess that answer is obvious.”

“Having fun?” she said in a hushed tone, her eyes level on Alec’s face. She was now humiliated, and he, apparently, was enjoying himself immensely at her expense. He'd been nice enough to her all weekend, even if she'd sensed his slight disapproval. She couldn't believe he'd purposely be openly nasty.

“C’mon, Lydia, lighten up. I’m just teasing you.” Alec’s aloof smile didn’t reach his eyes, however. His pale green eyes relayed something slightly malicious. “Is Sam in his room? That’s actually where I was headed. Safe to assume that's the scene you're fleeing?”

“He’s not there.” Lydia worked to keep her voice flat and even. “He’s out on his run. He’ll be back soon.”

“Wow. He is dedicated, I have to hand it to him,” Alec marveled. “I’m so hung over I can barely see straight, and he’s out running after what was obviously a long night? I wouldn't think he'd be able to pull himself out of bed, away from a willing woman, but what do I know. Maybe he just needed space to think…
nah
. He's out there solely because he has incredible discipline. Yeah, that's it. He’s something else, isn’t he?”

Lydia just offered a silent, tight smile that felt like a grimace. Her hands were ice cold, but they were itching to slap him.

Alec grinned again, relishing her discomfort. “Yup, you’d be hard pressed to find a better guy than my brother. But here you are, for all the world looking like you're running away from him… Hmm. Am I wrong?” He pinned her with a stare.

Lydia swallowed hard. She'd never been great on her feet when openly confronted. “Your brother
is
a wonderful guy,” she managed to say, her voice low and a drop shaky. “And I have to say, I don't think he'd appreciate your acting like this towards me.”

“Acting like what?” Alec asked. The look on his face reminded her of a cat toying with a mouse. “Being… truthful? Hey, sweetheart. You've known Sam for all of, what, forty-eight hours? I've known him for thirty-five years. Don't tell me what he'd appreciate from me.” His eyes narrowed as he went in for the kill. “You know what
I'd
appreciate? A woman so newly divorced not toying with my brother. The ink isn't even dry on your divorce papers yet, and you had no problem jumping into bed with him. So don't pull a high and mighty on me, okay? It doesn't fly.”

Lydia was speechless. The blush disappeared as the color slowly drained from her face.

“Hope your night was fun,” Alec murmured in a soft, vicious tone, “but don't go looking for more than that. I know you're just starting up again, but that's the nature of a one night stand, honey: one night only. Welcome back to the dating pool. I wish you luck. But my brother has a wide future in front of him. He doesn't need to get involved with a woman like you. Go home and take care of your son.”

Lydia felt frozen in place, but managed to grind out, “Go to hell.”

“Well!” Alec’s tone was now jovial, even though his eyes were still as cold as ice. “Seems like you’re in a rush, I assume to change your clothes before anyone else catches you so disheveled. So I’m gonna just mosey on back to my room. Back to Paige and the kids, since it seems Sam’s not around to join us for the brunch just yet. But hey, we’ll all see you down there, huh? That’ll be great.”

“Can’t wait,” Lydia said in a low snarl, and shot past him back to her room without a backward glance. She heard him release one smug chuckle, and a shiver ran down her spine.

Once she’d closed her door, she ripped off the dress and threw it into the closet with a furious grunt. Her heart was pounding, and she was, to her dismay, trembling all over. Like a shaken, frustrated child, she got into bed, pulled the covers up to her chin, curled up into a ball, and squeezed her eyes shut. Her head was throbbing now, she was slightly nauseous, and her breath felt tight in her chest, somewhat strangled in her throat.

Of all the people she had to run into, it had to be
Alec
? The only way it could have been any worse would have been if it were Sam’s mother or father, and Lydia was pretty sure that they wouldn’t have delighted in her obvious state of disarray and embarrassment as Alec had. She'd been humiliated, vulnerable, and he'd poked the stick with a vengeance. He was one of those people that had the unique power to belittle someone with just a look, and had wielded it on her with glee. He'd looked like he was actually enjoying himself as he hurled his verbal grenades at her.
That snarky bastard
, she cursed inwardly. If she had been on the fence before about whether to meet Sam at the brunch or not, Alec had just pushed her over.

No way am I going down there,
she thought with vehemence.
No fucking way.

The phone rang, and it made her jump. She let it keep ringing. If it was Matt, he would have called her cell phone, not her hotel room phone. Anyone else, she had no desire to speak to. It kept ringing. She waited until it stopped, then got up and headed into the bathroom to find some Tylenol and escape into a very long, hot shower.

* * *

When Sam was finished with his morning run and got back to his room, he opened the door cautiously. He was hoping Lydia would still be asleep in his bed, so he could kiss her awake, maybe convince her to share a shower with him. But what he found disappointed him: a quiet, empty room. He placed his iPod and room key on the desk and went to peek into the bathroom; it, too, was quiet and empty. Her dress was gone, and the T-shirt he'd loaned her to sleep in was neatly folded on the arm of the couch. Lydia had fled the scene. As that registered, the elation and light seeped out of his body like the air from a balloon.

He saw the sheet of paper on the bed. As he picked it up, read it, and sank down on the edge of the mattress, a wave of unease washed over him. He glanced over at the clock: there was less than half an hour until the brunch. Refusing to let the nervous energy overtake him, determined to ignore the twisting sensation in his gut, he kicked off his sneakers, undressed rapidly, and jumped into the shower. He just wanted to get ready so he’d be able to get downstairs to meet Lydia. Once they were face to face, he could determine with more certainty where her head was, instead of torturing himself and wasting energy by speculating.