Waking Up by Arianna Hart Page B

Orleans heat.
    Luckily, she was only a few blocks from her hotel on Royal Street and there were very few people out and about this time of the day. As she glanced at her watch, she realized it was actually closer to noon than six a.m. like she’d thought.
    And, sometime during the night, she’d gotten a tattoo of a Celtic knot on the inside of her wrist.
    What the fuck? She traced the intricate knot work with her finger and a shiver shot straight between her legs. Memories of Declan—that was his name—licking her wrist swamped her. She’d never thought of that part of her body as being particularly erogenous, but she’d just about come from his mouth on her there.
    Later, she’d come repeatedly from his mouth other places, but she really didn’t want to think about that right now. Right now, she was focused on taking a cool shower then crawling in bed and pretending this had never happened. She just did not do things like this.
    The elevator ride up to her room was no less nauseating than the previous ride had been. All she wanted was ice cold water and some aspirin. Please, God, she’d do anything for an aspirin right about now.
    As she fumbled with the key card to her room, she wondered how Leigh had fared last night. A twinge of guilt pierced her misery as she thought about how she’d abandoned her friend. Anything could have happened to her.
    The sound of retching met her as she finally opened the door to the room.
    “Leigh? Are you all right?” Ciara tapped on the bathroom door.
    “No, but I’ll live. I’ll be out in a minute,” her voice was raspy and faint.
    Ciara kicked off her heels and grabbed some clothes out of the suitcase. Neither bed looked like it had been slept in. Maybe Leigh had just gotten back to the room too.
    “So I take it you had a good night?” Leigh smirked as she came out of the bathroom. Her normally olive complexion was wan and slightly green. “Was he as good as he appeared when you were dancing? I swear, you almost gave me an orgasm watching you.”
    “Why did you let me go home with him? I never do things like that.” Ciara knew she shouldn’t blame her friend for her lack of judgment, but she didn’t have the fortitude to take responsibility for her own actions right now.
    “Sister, I was on stage doing the bump and grind with a six-foot tall transvestite wearing pink feathers and a gold G-string when you left. I don’t think I was in any position to be your moral compass.”
    “I know. Sorry. I’m hung over, embarrassed, and shouldn’t take it out on you.” She headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth. “Where did you end up? It doesn’t look like either of us used the room last night.”
    “Oh no, I was here. I slept in the bathtub.”
    “What? Why?”
    “It was easier when I was throwing up so much. The tiles were nice and cool and every time I had to puke, I just leaned over the side. It worked out well.”
    Ciara stared at her friend, who was wrapped in a towel, holding her head in both hands and looking as wrung out as she felt. This woman was a shark of a lawyer who brought opposing counsel to their knees. Right now, she could appear on a Girls Gone Wild—The Morning After video.
    “I think we should make a pact right now,” Ciara said as she undressed. “What happens in New Orleans—”
    “Stays in New Orleans,” Leigh finished. “Absolutely. I’d swear it in blood but I’m already so dehydrated I can’t afford to lose any more fluids.”
    “I’ll take your word for it. I need to shower then we’d better head to the airport. Our flight leaves in a couple hours and I have to be at work bright and early tomorrow.”
    Leigh moaned. “I don’t want to think about tomorrow. Or the flight home for that matter. Can’t we hide under the covers?”
    “Sure, if you want to support me until I get another job.”
    The cool water felt like heaven on her over-heated skin. Now that her headache had backed off a bit, she started to take stock of