Something warned her that sex with Conor would be more intense than any she’d experienced in the past. Could she handle it? Or would he end up joining her short list of failures? Even worse, was she ready to risk hurting both of them?

On that depressing note, she pushed to a sitting position. Her limbs were achy and stiff. Pain throbbed through her jaw, but she felt better than she’d expected. Today was Saturday. No work. She could stay in bed all day . . .

Saturday.

Oh no.

“What’s wrong?” Conor walked back into the bedroom carrying two cups of coffee and a white bakery bag.

“The museum fund-raiser is tonight.” She pressed a bandaged palm to her forehead.

“I think they’ll expect you to cancel.” He set the coffee on her nightstand.

Louisa swung her legs over the side of the bed. “We have a lot riding on tonight.”

“Take it slow.” He took her hand as she got to her feet, his grip solid and steadying as the floor pitched beneath her feet like a cruise ship in high seas. His gaze assessed her, doubtful and worried. “Dizzy?”

“Not at all,” Louisa lied as she limped toward the bathroom, her equilibrium steadying. She switched on the light and looked in the mirror. Ugh. Her jaw was puffy, and a bruise extended from her chin nearly to her ear. She was lucky she hadn’t knocked out any teeth.

Her palms weren’t so bad, and her black-and-blue, scabbed-up knees could easily be covered with slacks. But her face . . . Major concealer work to be done there.

“Considering you took a swan dive into pavement last night, you look pretty good.” Conor leaned on the doorframe. “Why don’t you just call your boss and explain? I’m sure he’d understand.”

“The museum is largely dependent on donations.” She brushed her teeth. “This is the first big fund-raiser since I started. The opening of the new Celtic Warrior exhibit is the biggest event this autumn. I have to be there to talk about my qualifications and the new exhibit. Patrons want to see where their money is being spent.” Plus, she didn’t trust her boss. What would he say in her absence?

Conor shook his head. “So you still intend to go?”

“I don’t have a choice.” She shooed him out of the bathroom and closed the door to use the toilet. When she emerged, he was lounging on the bed drinking coffee, as relaxed as if he spent every morning in her bedroom. “I don’t want to lose this job.”

Conor looked around the apartment. “Do you really need it?”