The grin grew. “Honey, you’re really drunk.”

I nodded. But somehow that knowledge didn’t stop me from leaning in closer…closer…so close I could have licked his lower lip if I’d stuck my tongue out.

Which I did.

“Tina,” he whispered.

But I didn’t let him finish that thought, my mouth suddenly acting all on its own as it latched on to his.

I was right. His lips were soft. And sweet. And when they started moving beneath mine, gently nipping at my lower lip, I felt a moan curl up from my belly. Wow, he was good at this. Really good.

His goatee tickled my chin, his arms drawing around my shoulders, pulling me in tight against that body that could make anyone believe in the power of protein shakes.

I lost all sense of time, but after what felt like a blissful eternity, we finally came up for air. Cal pulled away, his eyes dark and unreadable, his breath coming as quickly as mine suddenly was. His voice was husky. “I think maybe we’d better get you to bed.”

I grinned, biting my lower lip. “Anything you say, big guy.”

A full brass band was playing in the next room, the tuba relentlessly thumping out note after note. My temples throbbed with each beat, my head threatening to explode. I covered my ears with a pillow, trying to drown out the noise. But the damned band kept on playing, louder if anything. God, how many margaritas had I had last night? Thirty? Forty? Okay, it was probably more like four. But that was four too many. Tequila was definitely not my friend this morning. I rolled over, giving up on the pillow, and stumbled to my feet, trying to get my bearings. Four-poster bed. Navy comforter. Fuzzy velvet Elvis on the wall.

Cal’s room.

As the band played on, the night before came flooding back to me in one horrible ohmigod-what-did-I-do-last-night rush.

I remembered sitting on the sofa, saying something stupid about his eyes, and then we were kissing. Then he said something about going to bed…

I covered my mouth. Oh shit. Had I slept with Cal?

I looked down. I was wearing the shirt I’d worn yesterday and a pair of pink panties. Inconclusive.

I looked wildly around for any sign of Cal, but I was thankfully alone. Which could mean I’d dreamt the whole thing or that he’d already gotten up from our post-coital bliss to make me breakfast. Think, Tina, think! What happened last night? I wasn’t sure. My memory was covered in a tequila haze. I licked my lips and swore I could still taste Cal there. I’d kissed him…Oh, God, I’d kissed him. I buried my head in my hands. How stupid could I get? And why the hell was that band still playing?!