Prologue
Karen Whitmire strained her eyes in the dimly lit hotel lounge, searching for a vacant seat. She blinked, her eyes watering from the gauzy haze of smoke. After all the crying she'd done tonight, she didn't think she had any more tears to spare. Her gaze adjusted to the darkness and focused on an empty table near the bar.
"What'll it be?" the bartender rasped.
"I'll have a strawberry daiquiri, heavy on the rum, please." The daughter of an alcoholic turning to a bar to drown her sorrows. The irony of it wasn't lost on her.
"Can I see some ID?"
Karen sighed, yanked out her wallet, and flipped it open to her driver's license. Sighing, she handed him her wallet. She couldn't wait for her face to catch up to her twenty-six years. He handed it back and walked away to mix her drink.
The table she chose was away from the main crowd. A voice with a country twang, emanating from the corner jukebox, sang of loss and heartache. The beat of the song vibrated through the floor. The music was loud, and she wouldn't be able to hear herself think, thank God. If she dwelled too much on tonight's events, she'd scream. How her dad could do this to her mom was beyond her.
Dancers swayed together on the dance floor. Her body longed to be held close, enveloped in love. How would that feel? She'd been alone so long that she didn't know if she could connect with anyone. The last time she'd tried to get close to someone, she'd ended up hurt. She didn't want that to happen again. Maybe coming here had been a mistake. Being around all these young lovers made her realize how lonely she really was.
The bartender appeared at her elbow with her drink. Forcing a smile, Karen managed a "Thanks," as she handed him a ten-dollar bill and took a tentative drink of her beverage. The glorious burn of rum slid down her throat, easing the ache in her chest. She relished the numbness the daiquiri created.
Awareness fluttered in her stomach, stilling her hand in the middle of setting the glass down. The hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end. Disconcerted, she rubbed her palm down the back of her neck, trying to banish the feeling of being watched.
She looked around the lounge. The wall behind the bar was lined with colorful bottles of alcohol. A long, gold-embellished mirror hanging above the liquor made the room look larger than it actually was. The wooden floor amplified the pounding sounds of the feet of the dancers.
Glancing into the mirror behind the bar, Karen scanned the clientele. A sandy-haired man sat alone at a table, toward the back. Their gazes locked, and an electrical current vibrated between them, sending shock waves to her core.
The fluorescent lights came on, blinding Karen with their brightness. An announcer stepped up to the wooden stage and told everyone karaoke was canceled for the night. Thank God for small miracles. The last thing she wanted was to listen to some vocally-challenged soul belting out show tunes.
She seized the opportunity to study her admirer's reflection in the mirror. She took in his chiseled features, from his sculpted cheekbones to his square jaw. His nose had a slight crook in it, as if it may have been busted in a bar fight a time or two. However, it enhanced his Nordic good looks instead of detracting from them. Her stomach flip-flopped, attraction stirring her blood. The lights dimmed and shrouded the handsome stranger in a hazy cloud once again.
Narrowing her eyes, her gaze wandered over his tan slacks and white silk button-down shirt. The brightness of his white shirt stood out in the subdued lighting. The top button remained undone and his tie hung loose, affording her a glimpse of sandy curls at the base of his throat. He looked as if he'd come straight from work.
Unable to stop herself, she ogled him as he stared at her. He ran his index finger around the mouth of his long neck bottle. It seemed to be an almost unconscious act on his part. The air vent above his head lightly blew caresses through his hair. Her fingers itched to run through his blond locks. Would they be as silky as they looked?
There was a warmth in his gaze that said he liked what he saw. She didn't know if she should be embarrassed or flattered at the attention he was sending her way. No man had ever looked at her like that. Heat crept up her neck, warming her face. She looked back down at her drink to hide the blush that was most likely turning her face a bright shade of red. Some inexplicable force made her look back at him. His gaze remained trained on her. Teenage giddiness welled up from her gut, but it was a woman's wanting that pooled between her thighs.
Unnerved by his intense stare, her hands grew clammy and damp. Unsure if it was from her nervousness or the sweating of the glass, she swiped a napkin over her palms to dry them. Her heart hammered. She touched her chest and breathed deeply, attempting to slow the cadence inside.
A sad smile crossed his face, and he nodded in her direction. Was he here drowning his own demons? A tingle of longing snaked its way through her body. She didn't want to feel anything tonight, especially toward a man. Those feelings could only lead to pain. Her mom was evidence of that. Her love had nearly killed her.
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as he grabbed his beer and headed her way. Heat crept up her neck, and her face grew hot. She knew she looked terrible. Karen focused on her image in the mirror. Her gray eyes were puffy from the tear-filled night she'd spent at the emergency room, which was understandable after the argument she'd had with her father. It hurt like hell to see her mother lying in a hospital bed, knowing her father had put her there. She'd tried to get her mother to press charges, and had even called the police for her, but it was no use. Her mother wouldn't go through with it, and the police wouldn't do anything unless she did.
You're not going to think about that tonight, Karen. That's why you came here in the first place--to block out your problems for a little while.
Her lips were too full and swollen because she tended to bite them when worried, a habit she'd picked up as a child while hiding from her drunken father. Her mousy brown hair framed her face, and her nose was pink from continuously wiping it with tissue.
I don't look like someone who'd get flirted with in a bar.
Panicked, she glanced again at the man heading toward her and wished she had something to hide behind. The closer he got to her table, the faster she twirled her straw. She crossed one leg, only to uncross it and cross the other. Her body couldn't stay still. The nerve endings in her back tingled, telling her he stood right behind her.
)
