Keeping You (Destined Love #3)

1. Hannah

CHAPTER 1

Hannah

A fucking diamond ring and matching platinum band are sitting on my left hand.

What the fuck!?

I stare at the rings I don’t remember buying or being gifted. Granted, I don’t remember much of last night, and now I’m naked in a hotel room with what looks very much like an engagement and wedding ring sitting on my left hand.

My head is pounding and my stomach is queasy, a clear sign I drank way too much last night.

I groan and lie back on the pillow, closing my eyes and taking deep breaths as I try to push past the nausea.

The sound of the shower filters out from the washroom, and I hold the throw sheet against my chest, wrapping it around myself as I slowly slide out of bed to look for my clothes.

What is wrong with me? Getting drunk with my friends and not remembering it the next day is one thing, but I’m in a strange city with people I don’t know and I went way overboard last night.

I find my clothes scattered around the room and dress quickly, freezing when the door to the washroom opens. I inhale the scent of the soap that wafts out of the open washroom door and steel myself.

When I turn around, my jaw drops and anger courses through me.

I’m staring at Grayson Maxwell, the arrogant doctor I had to come to this convention with, in nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist as he leans against the door frame, watching me. His blond hair is completely mussed as if he just quickly rubbed a towel over it. Water droplets trail down his chiselled abs, and my eyes catch on the strip of hair leading into his towel. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

This is the man who a couple of years ago I thought was a good guy, until he showed me otherwise. It’s bad enough I have to deal with him at work, but when one of my best friends started dating one of his, I was forced to spend my personal time with him, too.

I was less than pleased when I found out the two of us were selected to come to this convention, but I told myself we’d have different seminars. After all, he’s an ER doctor and I’m a nurse. I told myself I’d only have to see him at the meet-and-greet mixer and that was it. Now I’m standing in his hotel room while he’s half-naked and I was just fully naked in his bed.

Anger at him and myself has my stomach rolling. How could I have let this happen? I know better than to get close to Dr. Grayson Maxwell, the renowned playboy.

I finish adjusting my shirt and spot a cardholder with my room number on it on the edge of the dresser. Clutching it in my hand, I turn toward the door.

He smirks. “Running away already?”

His nonchalant tone has me clenching my hands into fists.

“I would love to get away from you as quickly as possible,” I say through gritted teeth. Looking between the bed and Grayson, I ask, “We didn’t sleep together, did we?”

“I woke up completely dressed this morning. I don’t think so.”

He reaches up and runs his left hand over his face, and the light glints off something on his finger. Moving quicker than I probably should with my pounding headache, I grab his hand and examine the platinum band on his left ring finger.

Even at five-foot-seven, I have to tilt my head back to meet his deep-blue eyes.

“What is this?” I ask.

My stomach tightens as I prepare myself for the answer I’m sure he’s going to give.

“My wedding ring.”

My hand goes to my stomach as I stumble back. Okay, Hannah, deep breaths.

“And where is your wife?”

Humour fills his eyes as he smirks again. “I’m looking at her.”

That does it. Between the booze and this news, I feel my stomach turn a final time. I push past him into the washroom, bend over the toilet, and begin emptying my stomach. Grayson comes behind me and pulls my hair into a ponytail and gently rubs a hand over my upper back.

When I feel like I’ve finished, I settle on the floor beside the toilet, and Grayson crouches beside me, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I’m too tired and feel too gross to reject the comforting touch.

I take a few deep breaths as Grayson leaves the washroom. Returning a minute later, he hands me an open bottle of water.

I offer him a weak smile as I say, “Thank you.”

He settles beside me on the floor, trying to ensure his towel stays closed. He plays with the wedding ring on his left hand before his head turns to me.

“You feeling better?” he asks.

Taking a small sip of the water, I nod. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Silence fills the small space, and it makes me want to crawl out of my skin.

Picking at the label on the water bottle, I ask, “What happened?”

He doesn’t say anything, and when I turn to look at him, he’s watching me. Different emotions I can’t decipher flicker across his face before he says, “I don’t know. I woke up this morning not remembering last night. When I went to my bag, I saw a marriage license with our names on it.” He continues to fidget with his ring.

In all the years I’ve known Grayson both at work and out, I’ve never seen him seem unsure. He’s always been so full of confidence that his behaviour has me watching his every move.

His shoulders are tight despite the fact I know he took a hot shower. The mirror is still fogged over and the air in here still has a bit of a sticky feeling to it.

“Okay, so we can get it annulled,” I say.

His entire body stiffens. As he opens his mouth to say something, a phone rings in the other room.

“Excuse me,” he says as he pushes off the floor, leaving the washroom.

I slowly push myself up and grab a towel, cleaning off some fog from the mirror. I can’t help but laugh to myself as I take in my dishevelled look. Mascara and eyeliner are smudged under my eyes, my lips still have a faint red tint to them, and my hair is a disaster.

I wet a washcloth and gently clean my face of the leftover makeup. I run my fingers through my hair before making my way to the bedroom. When I enter, Grayson is sitting on the end of the bed, tying his shoes. He looks up at me with a tentative smile.

“You could have told me I looked like shit,” I say.

He shakes his head quickly. “Hannah, you never look like shit. You look beautiful.”

His words surprise me, and I stand in the entryway of the room as I watch him pack his bag. Slinging it onto his shoulder, he stops and stares at me. He looks at me like he’s taking in every inch of me. My skin tingles as his eyes rake over my body slowly.

He clears his throat and says, “I’m really sorry, Hannah, but the hospital called and asked if there was any way I could come in for the evening shift tonight. I guess Dr. Brighton called in sick so they’re down a doctor. We can talk at home.”

I nod, not sure what to say. He closes the distance between us, hesitating before kissing my cheek and leaving the hotel room, the sound of the door closing signalling his departure. My hand comes up and touches my cheek. The spot tingles, like that feeling when you put cooling gel on your muscles, but it’s warm. I shake my head and drop my hand. Grayson’s behaviour this morning is so different from the last two years. I’m not sure what to do with that.

I walk over to the bed and sink into it. I run my hands over my face but stop when the feeling of something cool grazes the left side of my face. I look at my hand.

Those freaking rings.

I came to Vegas for a work conference with a man I can’t stand, and I’m leaving married to him. I’m not sure this could have gone any more wrong.