Page 32 of The Fake Husband Deal

I opened my eyes slowly to find a shirtless Noah sitting on my bed, propped against the headboard, holding a glass of water and two small pills.

“They’re for your head. I ordered breakfast to the room so you don’t have to face the conference until you’re ready.”

“Thank you.” I took the water to help swallow the pills and get rid of the awful taste in my mouth.

“If you’re okay I’m going to head to my room for a quick shower. I’ll be back in ten, okay?”

“Yeah.”

I got up from the bed slowly, looking around for any signs that we’d done more than…well, anything. My memory wasfuzzy at best, and the last thing I remembered was the two shots I’d ordered when I’d seen Pierce come into our bar.

The room was as tidy as I’d left it. My jeans were folded and on top of a chair with my shirt hanging from its back.

Did I undress myself? Or did Noah help?

It was hard feeling mortified without knowing how mortified to be.

I’d ask Noah when he got back, but I needed a shower first.

I tried to be quick, but it was as if my body was on vacation from functioning, so by the time I walked out with a towel around my waist, I was met by Noah and a tray of breakfast food.

He looked as fresh as a daisy on a spring morning.

His appreciative gaze over my body made me feel only marginally better. At least I didn’t look half as bad as I felt.

I reached for my suitcase to get a clean pair of underwear and jeans.

“You’ve seen it all before and my head’s too heavy for modesty.” I turned around and dropped the towel before stepping into my underwear, jeans, and T-shirt.

“You’re forgetting that the last time you kept your clothes on. I’m not sure looking but not touching counts as us getting even now, but thank you for the pleasant reminder.”

I joined him at the small table, eyeing the fresh fruit, pancakes, and bacon, wondering which option I could stomach.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“We didn’t have sex, if you’re wondering. You passed out as soon as we got here.”

Okay, that was a good thing. We’d acknowledged our chemistry but had held firm on keeping a professional relationship.

“Did I do anything embarrassing last night?”

Noah tilted his head as his lips curled into a teasing smile. “It depends. On the scale from slightly embarrassed to mortified, where would you place proposing to me?”

I massaged my temples. No way I proposed to him. It had to be a joke.

“Hey,” he said gently. “It’s okay. You were a little drunk, and I’m pretty irresistible. The alcohol talked louder last night. It’s normal.”

I groaned. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m still here, and we’re still good, right? What happens in Atlanta stays in Atlanta. Do you agree?”

“I agree. I’m still mortified. This whole marriage and will thing is on my mind. I shouldn’t have gotten drunk in the first place.”

His eyes perked up. “What do you mean?”

I filled a cup with coffee from the pot and drank almost half of it in one go.

“My father stipulated in his will that I have to get married in six months or lose the company and the museum. A month has passed already.”