“Hey, I’m sorry, Payton. That was unnecessary and mean.”

She glanced over at him, catching his eyes softened in apology. “You had a point, though. It’s the whole pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it? But maybe I’ll just rest my eyes for a little while. I’m suddenly pretty wiped out.”

“Yeah. I understand.”

She sank back farther in the seat, closing her eyes.

Maybe attempting conversation hadn’t been such a good idea.

Cruz cricked his neck and flipped through the radio for something new. A glance at his passenger told him she was either sound asleep or pretending to be to avoid further conversation. Either way, she wasn’t likely to brook much argument on his musical choice.

He’d been mulling over the bit of her conversation he’d overheard for the past half hour. The fact that Brad Eastman had been caught in a sordid position didn’t surprise him in the least. But Payton’s surprise had.

Brad was a player. No matter how gorgeous Payton was, men like Brad liked the conquest, the score of something new and different. Cruz had thought people in Payton’s position just overlooked those kinds of things. Something, if Payton were to be believed, her mother had done in the course of her own marriage.

He had to give Payton points for spunk. Her mother sounded like a shrew—since he pretty much caught the entire conversation thanks to the high decibel rate the woman had been yelling at through the phone—and it couldn’t have been easy for Payton to stand up to her like she did.

He smiled again as he remembered Payton chucking her pink cell phone out the window, grinning in satisfaction when it was creamed by a truck. She certainly surprised him. Surprises were something he tried to avoid. He preferred order and predictability in his life, which was probably why he and Payton couldn’t stand each other.

Although to be truthful, she wasn’t turning out to be as big of a pain in the ass as he anticipated. Well, the night was early. Could only be a matter of time.

The roads over the past hour had gone from flat and boring to more mountainous and curvy, so he’d had to be more alert to the traffic around him, sometimes crawling, sometimes whizzing by. Up ahead the bright lights of the city of Monterrey greeted them.

“It’s beautiful.”

Her voice broke the silence and caught him unaware. He jerked the wheel to the left and almost into the car passing them, who lit off their horn in a warning that brought a shrill scream from Payton.

He righted the car again, shaking his head. “Sorry. You startled me.”

“I can see that. Why don’t you pull over and let me drive for a while?” She was still gripping the handle above the door, panting from the near collision.

He glanced at the time. Nearly eleven. Leaving them close to eleven, maybe twelve, more hours of driving. He rubbed at his eyes, now straining against the bright lights of the oncoming cars. Honestly, he hadn’t realized how drained he was until that moment. And from what he’d heard Payton was going through, she had to be even more emotionally drained than him.

“Not that I don’t trust your mad driving skills, but what would you think about stopping for the night? My assistant sent me some hotel and restaurant suggestions, and I’m sure we could find a place with room service. We could be up and back on the road by six. Just fashionably late to the rehearsal dinner and with plenty of time for you and Kate to paint the town red.”

She released her grip on the handle, stretched her legs in front of her, and curled her back like a cat. “You had me at room service. Not that a long hot shower doesn’t also sound divine.”

She tilted her head back to look up at the dark sky, revealing the delicate skin of her creamy neck. Even with the minimal light, he could see two moles placed close together.

The blaring of a horn from his left nearly sent him careening off the road, and he realized he’d been drifting into the left lane. Again. Shit.

It had to be fatigue. Why else would he be staring at the neck of someone he had no right thinking about?

Someone who would be demanding and high maintenance, and…too far out of reach for him anyway.

Payton had just finished washing out her underwear when she heard someone knock at the door. Room service, finally.

She glanced down at the oversized cotton T-shirt she’d bought in the lobby gift store and wondered if she should slide on her wrinkled capris that were now hanging up in the steamy bathroom. But the length—hitting her knees—and bagginess probably offered her more coverage than many of her slinkier dresses anyhow.

And she could practically taste the chocolate mousse. Too many months of deprivation so she could squeeze into that beautiful—even if too small—wedding dress had her looking forward to eating anything and everything she wanted.

Only, when she opened the door, it wasn’t her food waiting for her to pounce on, but the six-foot-something mass of a tired but still too handsome Cruz Sorensen standing in her doorway, his cellphone up to his ear. His hair was poking almost straight up, giving her the impression he’d been running his fingers through it and hadn’t realized the effect. Nerdy but strangely…sexy.

She was delirious. This was Cruz she was talking about. The guy who’d sooner insult her than pay her a compliment.

“Yeah. Okay. I have her right here. You too, Kate.” He paused and held the phone out to her. “You have someone who wants to speak with you.”

Payton took the phone and held it to her chest while she spoke to Cruz. “Remind me what room you’re in, and I’ll drop it off when I’m done.”

The ding of the elevator, followed by a short statured man carrying a tray, told her the food was finally on its way. Only, instead of leaving, Cruz stood back to the let the man in, before following him inside.

“No chance,” she heard him say under his breath.

The guy placed the tray on the desk and handed her the receipt and a pen. With panache, she flicked the pen across the paper while still holding the phone and handed it back, all the while aware of Cruz’s dark gaze watching her every move. Or she should say the server’s every move, by the scowl Cruz was giving him before shutting the door on his back.

“Can you really be that naïve? You can’t be wandering around a hotel in the middle of the night or letting strange men into your hotel room—especially not dressed like that. This isn’t the States and you have no idea the kind of trouble you could get into.” He ran his hands through his hair again, stopping to scratch the top of his head as if pondering something. “I would let you hold onto the phone until morning but I’m expecting a call. Why don’t I come back in…half an hour?”

Already putting the phone to her ear, she nodded and waved. She noticed the way he looked back and forth down the hallway as he left her room in case a small, stealthy ninja was waiting around a corner, before shutting the door. She rolled her eyes.

“Kate? You still there?”

“Yes, are you kidding? I wouldn’t hang up for the world. I just wish I had thought to take my phone with us when we left for dinner and site-seeing earlier. I only saw your last message half an hour ago. Now what the heck is going on? Your mother has already left four messages. She’s freaking out. Something about you calling off your engagement?”

Payton sank onto the bed, her head cushioned by the pillow and told her friend about the ill-fated video call she’d made to Brad just before boarding. She hated how her voice hitched at the end when she described Brad’s state of undress.

Kate stayed silent for a moment and Payton expected to hear Kate’s denial, her argument that it couldn’t have been what she thought it was. But her friend only said, “I will kill the little twerp. No. I’ll sue him, I’ll”—she paused then and sighed. “I’m sorry, Payton. Have you heard from Brad since he hung up?”