Candace Hudson wants a husband and babies. But a recent nasty break-up has her rethinking the husband part of the equation. Griff Calhoun, a divorced father and the product of divorce, wants to share his wealth and Texas cattle ranch to open a summer camp for children of divorce. Candace already has a full-time job; Griff wants her to consult with him on his project. Neither one is looking for love, but both Candace and Griff get a much needed wake-up call.
Candace Hudson slapped at the alarm clock, but the annoying noise continued. Remembering the wake-up call she had requested, she groaned and fumbled for the phone. “Thank you.”
A deep chuckle hummed in her ear. “Well, darlin’, you’re welcome.”
She jerked upright. The room swayed and her head pounded. “Who is this?”
“You knew my name last night, as I recall.”
She shivered and clutched the sheet around her naked body. I’m naked? I don’t sleep in the nude. Last night was fuzzy. She had attended the service awards dinner for the Kids World Summit where she had shared a table with five other people. Three women and the computer geek from California. No, he didn’t have a drawl. The only other man at the table was from Texas. What the hell was his name? He wore boots and a cowboy hat—a walking cliché. No one could have been more out of place. Name, name, name. She squeezed her eyes shut and tapped a finger to her forehead. Her breathing quickened.
She exhaled slowly. “I don’t know who you are, or what you’re trying to do, but….”
“Candy? You don’t remember. You downed a few glasses of wine, but not that much. I think that Randall fella got to you. I don’t know what he did to piss you off, but remind me to never do that. Maybe I should come back up there and refresh your memory.”
“No! Don’t come up here. And don’t call me Candy.”
An image flashed: Someone removing her clothing and placing her on the bed. She shuddered. What happened to me last night?
The Texas drawl pulled her back. “Okay then, how about lunch? Maybe seein’ me will jumpstart your memory.”
“I…I’m hanging up now.” She slammed down the phone as her stomach convulsed. She tossed back the covers and pulled on the robe draped over a chair. In the bathroom, she looked in the mirror. Her smudged eye makeup gave her a raccoon-on-the-morning-after look. Honey-blonde hair spiked out wildly from her head, and her lips were swollen. An oval bruise glared from her neck. What the hell have I done? And who did I do it with?