Alexa grudgingly pushed the cart of cleaning materials through the doors of the service elevator and into the hallway.
This was a really bad idea. Housekeeping had never been her forte. In fact, she was terrible at it.
Sure, on paper she was a part of the housekeeping staff. But that was only because her credentials didn’t allow them to hire her for any other position. The Crofton Regent’s manager Kaala Moore was supposed to brief Darien on what it was that Alexa actually did to earn her pay, but she must have forgotten.
She parked the cart outside the door of the suite and rang the doorbell. It was one of the executive rooms, which was puzzling because Darien said it was a VIP guest. But then it was entirely possible it was just a really cheap celebrity.
She waited a minute, then rang the doorbell again. There was no answer, so she let herself in. “Housekeeping!” she called out.
There was no reply, but she could hear the shower running. According to Darien, a few items had been broken and all she had to do was clean up and give a report on whatever it was that needed replacing.
“Rich people,” she muttered softly. They pay so much to be surrounded by fine, expensive things only to break them so people like her could clean up after them.
She found small pieces of glass strewn all over the carpet, and what looked like a stone carven broken into three pieces. She looked around and saw that not much else was out of place. There was a bowl of strawberries, a champagne glass, and a half-full bottle of Dom Perignon in an ice bucket.
It didn’t take her long to finish her task. Once she had swept up the last of the broken glass into a dustbin, she stood outside the bedroom and asked if the guest wanted her to leave the champagne or clear it.
“What?” was the muffled reply.
She noticed the shower was no longer running. “Would you like me to leave the champagne or would you like me to put it away in the fridge?” she said again.
“You can leave it, thank you,” said a man coming out of the room.
Alexa stared at him in stunned silence, the broom and dustpan in her hands largely forgotten.
His hair was still wet from the shower, his skin damp. She could see rivulets of water glistening on his bare toned chest and finely muscled arms. A few drops rolled down his six-pack to stop at the towel wrapped tightly around his waist.
It was a very small towel. She was quite sure she had never seen a tinier towel in her entire life.
The man paused in the middle of drying his hair with another towel. It must have been two, three times the size of the one he was wearing.
“Is there a problem, Miss?”
A frown creased his handsome features. “What’s tiny?” He looked down his torso.
“I mean yes,” she almost shouted. Her brain was functioning again. “I’ll leave the champagne.” She forced herself to look up at his face without letting her gaze stray downward to his chest.
His damp, glistening, muscled chest.
He looked at her as though trying to figure out what she was staring at. “That will be all,” he said.
As he was turning to go back into the bedroom, the phone rang.
Alexa dumped the contents of the dust pan in a trash bin, but from the corner of her eye, she watched as he hurried to answer the phone.
God he was hot. She’d always had a thing for tall men. This one was a little over six feet. Well-built, toned body. But not too buff. Just right. Perfect, in fact.
He tossed the towel he had been using on his hair onto the sofa and picked up the phone.
“Yes,” he said. He bit his lower lip as he listened to the person on the other end of the call. “I understand.”
She pulled the trash bag from the bin, but she couldn’t resist stealing another look at him. Dios mio, but his shoulders were just so broad. His bicep flexed as he held up the phone to his ear. His other hand rested on his hip right above the towel that hugged the curve of his backside so snugly.
It was only when he turned around that Alexa realized she’d been standing there gawking, the trash bag forgotten in her hand.
He was looking at her, his brows furrowed slightly
“Sorry,” she muttered weakly. “I didn’t mean to—“
“Are you always this inappropriate with guests, Miss?” he said.
“Uh not really.” It wasn’t as though it was the first time a male guest walked around in a towel while she was cleaning. She was usually unaffected by it. Usually. “I was just … I mean I’m not doing anything.”
“You were staring.”
“Yes sorry.” She laughed, hoping to make light of the situation. “Relax. It’s not as if I was about to take my clothes off and jump into your bed—”
He raised an eyebrow.
Did she just say that? Oh God she had to stop talking. And staring at his naked chest. It was seriously affecting her brain functions.
“I mean I would—“ She managed another awkward laugh. Maybe she could convince him she was joking. “—but I have to get back to my rounds.” She gestured toward the door and shrugged.
“What if I pay you?”
“I’ll pay you,” he said. “If you take off your clothes off and get into the bed.”
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