“It’s late, I don’t want to wake her,” he finally said. “Don’t you have friends or family to call?”
Her cheeks heated and she shuffled her feet. “No.”
If he wanted to know why she had no one to contact, he didn’t ask. Just stared. She couldn’t quite understand his expression. Was it sympathy or judgement?
“If that’s all, I’d like to get some sleep.” She tilted her head toward the bed hoping he’d get the hint and disappear.
His gaze flicked over at the bed and then along her body. His eyes flared with interest. God, this guy gave confusing signals. She refrained from tugging the hem of the t-shirt down. It would only make him believe he’d made her uncomfortable which he’d probably enjoy. In truth, jittery nerves danced under her skin, at the heated stare aimed at her and her bare legs. Funny things stirred in her belly.
“I hope you’re not going to stand there all night because I’d like to go to bed,” she huffed. He was making the restless feeling spread down south the longer he stared.
“That’s my bed when I stay overand… you’re wearing my t-shirt.”
The way the words slid off his tongue had her wanting to crawl in bed with him and happily give him back his t-shirt. She mentally gave herself a forehead slap. What was she thinking? Clearly, she wasn’t thinking with a sensible brain. Seeing him naked had made her stupid.
“You can have the bed. You’re not having your t-shirt.” With that, she snapped up her bag off the floor, snatched a pillow from the bed, tucking it under her arm and hauled the quilt off the mattress. It trailed behind her like a tail. “Goodnight and sweet dreams,” she sarcastically threw over her shoulder. She could have sworn, she’d heard a low chuckle right before she closed the door behind her and headed to the couch.
Chapter 6
The next morning, well, Holly couldn’t officially call it morning until the sun shone through the windows, and the time on her phone said it would be thirty-six minutes before she saw any golden rays. A sharp pain stabbing her neck prevented her from going back to sleep. She rose off the couch. A couch designed more for decoration than comfort with its timber frame and hard leather cushions. She bet Ethan Doyle had a better night sleep than she did. The nerve of the guy to demand his bed.
She stretched and glanced around the dim room. The torch on her phone helped her located the guest bathroom. There was no way she was using the one in the bedroom he was sleeping in.
With nothing to change into, she put her skirt and heels back on and stayed in Ethan Doyle’s t-shirt. Surely, he wouldn’t miss it. She couldn’t do much without toiletries, so she washed her face with hand soap, finger-combed her messy hair and popped two mints she had in her bag into her mouth.
Tiptoeing through the apartment, she found the kitchen. She would have killed for a coffee from the shiny, silver machine that looked like it had come from a high-end café but made do with water. A glass jar of chocolate chip biscuits sat on the counter. Her stomach growled with hunger and she helped herself to a sugary treat. With nothing more to do, it was time to go home. Noticing a notepad and pencil on the fridge, she tore off a page and scribbled Nancy a note thanking her for her kindness and promising to return the t-shirt just in case Ethan Doyle called the police and reported her for stealing. She grabbed another biscuit for the road, wrapped it in a paper towel she found on the bench and put it in her bag. She quietly let herself out of the apartment.
Once outside, the colours of pink, purple and orange smudged the morning sky. Holly shivered in the chilled breeze, thankful for the small amount of protection the t-shirt offered. A lot better than her skimpy gold bra. Her bra she didn’t recall seeing in her bag this morning while freshening up. She rummaged through her purse in search of the top. Crap, she must have left it in Ethan Doyle’s room. There was no chance in hell she was going back to get it. Oh well, no great loss. It wasn’t like she’d need it again. No more fancy-dress parties for her.
Her outfit was far from decent even without the bra and fishnet stockings. She still looked like a sex worker after a long, hard night on the streets. There was nothing she could do about it. She needed to find the closest bus stop, detour past Declan’s place to get her stuff so she could change into something appropriate and go back to the train station.
She’d go home and take up her position with Ainsworth Hotels again. Needing to get away from Oliver, she’d quit her job. Her parents had given her six months to get over the breakup and return to the business. A business that was built with Ainsworth blood. Every descendant from her great, great grandfather had worked for the hotel chain. They made it clear she’d dishonour and embarrass the family if she didn’t return. The company shares and money that went with it when she turned thirty were only be available to her if she worked for the family business.
Guilt and family obligation lay heavy on her shoulders at the threat. They couldn’t really go through with it, could they?
She pulled her phone from her bag and clicked on Google maps. The nearest bus stop was a fifteen-minute walk. Glancing at her already abused feet from wearing stripper heels for hours last night, she took a deep breath and prayed she’d make it without rolling an ankle.
It took thirty-five minutes and three cars pulling up alongside her propositioning her for aridebefore she arrived at her destination. Men in suits with gold wedding rings wanting an early morning quickie before they headed off to work. Pigs.
The graffitied bus shelter and the steel bench seat never looked more appealing; her feet throbbed like crazy. Sitting on the cold metal, she was tempted to take off her shoes and rub them, but decided against it.
By now, the coloured sky had lightened to a soft blue with a sprinkle of white puffy clouds and she was grateful for the warming temperature. She pulled the cookie from her bag and waited. In fifteen minutes, it’d be back to her old life.
* * *
Ethan stared bleary eyed at the coffee dripping into his mug. He’d been out of bed for ten minutes and already onto his second cup. He’d only had a few hours’ sleep and with a full day of shooting, he needed to inject the caffeine into his veins to function. The lack of sleep was due to a small-part actress. He froze his arse off not having a quilt on the bed.
He liked the way she’d stood up to him and not backed down when he’d asked to know why she was staying with his mother—not many people did that. The sass as she pulled the covers off the bed and left the room, taking them with her, was kinda cute too. With the chill in the room, he’d given up on any chance of going back to sleep, and got out of bed.
Before he headed for the kitchen, he took a detour into the living room ready for round two with Holly. He enjoyed their verbal sparring match last night.
A neatly folded quilt sat on the couch and a pillow was propped on top. A note left on the kitchen counter confirmed she’d left. Disappointment tugged at his gut as he read her goodbye.
“What are you doing here so early?” his mother entered the kitchen and greeted him with a peck on the cheek.
“My house was preoccupied last night, so I thought I’d crash here to get some sleep.” Maybe he should’ve stayed at his place, probably would have gotten more hours even with all the noise.
A shadow of concern crept over his mother’s eyes. “Aiden had another party?”
