He snorted. “Have a little faith in me, grasshopper.”

He concentrated on walking straight, without any hint of a wobble, back into the hotel. Made his careful way to the front counter. “I need a room for the night, please.” Hah. Not even the slightest slur.

He plunked down a credit card on the counter as Sherri caught up with him. She’d taken care of the bar tab. Oops. He’d forgotten about that. Must be drunker than he’d realized.

A key card was handed to him, and he escorted Sherri across the elegant lobby to the elevators. Somewhere along the way, she’d kicked off her sandals, and they dangled in her left hand. Barefoot, a little drunk, with her hair tousled by the night breeze, she was turning every head in the lobby.

Look all you want, gentlemen. She was going upstairs with him. He joined her at the brass elevator doors and looped a possessive arm over her shoulders. His pulse leaped as she leaned her head on his shoulder. He would never get tired of holding this woman close.

The hotel room was nicer than any place he’d stayed in a very long time. He’d lived in plywood hooches and slept on the ground for so long he’d almost forgotten places like this existed. It even smelled good in here, like some fancy air freshener.

Sherri flopped across the high, king-size bed piled with pillows and bolsters. “I do believe I’m a bit drunk,” she announced.

“I should hope so. You’ve had nearly as much scotch as me, and I’m definitely drunk.” He added, “And I’ve got eighty pounds on you. Get up so I can pull the covers down. Then you can crawl into bed and pass out.”

Except when she stood up, Sherri started shedding clothes. The tank top came over her head, exposing a white lace bra that was sexy as hell against her tanned skin. She dropped her pants next.

Holy centerfold model! That thong ought to be registered as a lethal weapon. Griffin gulped. Apparently, he wasn’t so drunk that his body didn’t leap to instant, painfully hard attention at the sight of her.

She glanced up at him, and her mouth curved into one of those infinitely mysterious female smiles that Mona Lisa had perfected. Sherri reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. The skimpy lace fell away from the globes of her breasts, and Griffin stopped breathing.

“Like what you see?” she murmured.

“Uh-huh,” he managed to choke out. He cleared his throat. “I’m mesmerized by you.”

She slipped into bed and pulled the snowy-white sheet up to her waist, leaving her magnificent chest and those rosy peaks uncovered, tempting him to lose his mind in her.

“Why don’t you get naked and bring your mesmerized self on over here, sailor?” she said in a husky tone that tightened his groin even harder.