Page 1 of Keeping You

CHAPTER 1

Hannah

Afucking 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.

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