If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense

like the hotel is
that
far away.”
    As he circled around the car, he grimaced. She wasn’t joking. The hotel was only a mile away.
    It wasn’t as if she was very likely to sober up and as he slid into the driver’s seat, she immediately laid a hand on his thigh, stroking up, then down … up. Down. Teasing. Taunting.
    “Would you stop?” he finally begged.
    She laughed again … and stopped.
    It gave him a few precious moments to try to cool himself down. He could do this. He could. He just had to remind himself how she had looked earlier when he’d seen her talking to Ezra.
    A few months back.
    Yeah. He could do this. Really.
    A soft sound came to his ears.
    At first, he didn’t quite catch it. Then, abruptly, he started to laugh.
    Shit.
    She’d fallen asleep.
    Son of a bitch.
    Looked like somebody had decided to cut him a break, after all.

CHAPTER
SEVEN
     
    I F THERE WAS ONE THING N IA HATED ABOUT GETTING drunk, it was the fact that she remembered it all the next morning. In vivid, Technicolor detail.
    She lay on her bed at the oh-so-cleverly named Ash Hotel, staring up at the ceiling, still wearing her jeans, her T-shirt, even her damned shoes, and replaying the entire night, from start to finish.
    Seeing Law. Talking to Law. Kissing Law.
Groping
Law.
    Groaning, she sat up and covered her face with her hands, tried to figure out just what in the hell she’d been thinking. Except that was the problem.
    For the first time in months, she hadn’t been thinking. She’d let herself just … relax. It had been, well … nice. Just sitting there. For a little while she’d been able to forget about things.
    “You don’t have a
right
to forget,” she muttered, utterly disgusted with herself. No right—at all. Her cousin had been murdered, and everything inside her screamed that the guy who had killed her was
not
dead.
    What right did she have to forget?
    With tears pricking her eyes, she climbed out of the bed, stripping out of her clothes and leaving them in atrail on her way to the bathroom. A hot shower. She needed a hot shower. Then coffee. Then she’d continue kicking her ass, while she figured out how to face Law again … after she’d all but eaten him alive …
    Guilt and embarrassment—a bad, bad combination. But that wasn’t enough—just the memory of last night was enough to reignite the burn of hunger.
    “Shit.”
    Heat hit her low and hard, square in the belly. So
not
what she needed. She wasn’t the type to ever really get hangovers, and other than just a vague queasy feeling, a whole lot of embarrassment, and plenty of guilt, she had been feeling fine, until now.
    Bracing her hands on the counter, she sucked in a deep breath and muttered, “A long time. That’s all. You were drunk. It had been a long time. That is
all
.”
    She just needed a damned orgasm. That was why he’d been so damned appealing. That was why she felt like she could have eaten him alive. Why she was still inclined to do just that—
    Swearing, she climbed into the shower and cranked the heat up to high. As the hot water came pouring down on her, she braced her back against the cool tile wall. She had been alone too long. Just alone too long and she needed a climax.
    Nia could give herself a damn climax, and she’d damn well do it, too.
    She didn’t need a guy.
    Except even as she slid her hand down her belly, it was
his
face she was seeing. When she tried to block it out, it only got worse. Nia whispered, “The hell with it.”
    If she had to think of a guy, there were definitely worse ones to be thinking of …
    Law twirled the keys and studied the door, the coffee, the door.
    Then his car.
    He should just leave. She was probably still sleeping. It was after nine, though. And why in the hell wouldn’t she want caffeine? She’d probably need it. Hungover and all, right? Who wouldn’t want caffeine, need caffeine under those circumstances?
    Besides, he did need to return her keys, right? He’d even gotten up early just so he could go to Leon’s, drive the bike over here, then get back to his car, all without making it look like he’d been rushing around to get all of that done, too.
    Granted, it had
occurred
to him last night that when he kept her keys in his pocket that he would have to come back here today. He could have even used the keys as an excuse to see her again later, but that seemed too … contrived. Was a lot better to just run around like an idiot without her knowing instead