Obviously she wasn’t thinking clearly. This barrage of feelings that had tumbled into her so quickly made it all but impossible to maintain an objective distance and analyze.

Once Seth was settled, once all the details were arranged, she would have to find that distance again. The simplest and most logical method was to begin with geographical distance and go back to New York.

Undoubtedly she would come to her senses once she’d picked up the threads of her own life again and slipped back into a comfortable, familiar routine.

However miserably dull that seemed just now.

She took the time to brush her wet hair back from her face, to carefully cream her skin, adjust the lapels of her robe. If she couldn’t quite take full advantage of her breathing techniques to compose herself, it was hardly any wonder, what with the drag of the hangover.

But she stepped out of the bathroom with her features calmly arranged, then walked into the parlor, where Phillip was just pouring coffee from the room service tray.

“I thought you could use this.”

“Yes, thank you.” She carefully censored her gaze to avoid the empty champagne bottle and the scatter of clothing that she’d been too drunk to pick up the night before.

“Did you take any aspirin?”

“Yes. I’ll be fine.” She said it stiffly, accepted the cup of coffee and sat with the desperate care of an invalid. She knew she was pale, hollow-eyed. She’d gotten a good look at herself in the steamy mirror.

And she got a good look at Phillip now. He wasn’t pale at all, she noted, nor was he hollow-eyed.

A lesser woman would despise him for it.

As she sipped her coffee and studied him, her muddled mind began to clear. How many times, she wondered, had he refilled her glass the night before? How many times had he refilled his own? It seemed to her there was a wide discrepancy between the two.

Resentment began to stir as she watched him generously heap jam on a piece of toast. Even the thought of food had her shaky stomach lurching.

“Hungry?” she said sweetly.

“Starving.” He took the lid off a plate of scrambled eggs. “You should try to eat a little.”

She’d rather die. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah.”

“And aren’t we bright-eyed and chipper this morning?”

He caught the tone, slanted her a cautious look. He’d wanted to take it slow, give her some time to recover before they discussed anything. But it appeared that she was recovering rapidly.

“You had a little more to drink than I did,” he began.

“You got me drunk. It was deliberate. You charmed your way in here and started pouring champagne into me.”

“I hardly held your nose and poured it down your throat.”

“You used an apology as an excuse.” Her hands began to shake, so she slammed the coffee onto the table. “You must have known I’d be angry with you, and you thought you’d just ease your way into my bed with Dom Perignon.”