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But the distance didn’t really help, especially not when she lifted her hand to prop her cheek and the strap of her dress slipped down a little, revealing her creamy, pale shoulder and more than a hint of cleavage.
This was a lost cause.
Suddenly, the idea of sharing a bed with this woman and not touching her felt like a form of torture.
“Shit.” She swore as she fumbled the hotel key, crouching to the ground at the same time Luca did, his hand rescuing it, closing over hers so she looked up and their eyes met, and something burst inside of her. “God, you’re handsome.”
Stop talking. Please, for the love of God, stop talking now.
His laugh was muffled. “Thanks.”
“I just meant –,”
Nope. There was no way to salvage that one. No clever misunderstanding she could suggest had taken place. She’d just told her boss he was handsome. As they were preparing to walk into a hotel room together.
“I didn’t mean that as an invitation,” she added, her tone haughty. Smooth.
“I didn’t take it as such.” Was he still laughing at her? Embarrassment spread through her veins. She stood up as he opened the door and he held it open for her, so she could step into the room first. She did so, mo
ving towards the window because it was the farthest she could get from him in this tiny place.
“Would you like the first shower?” Her voice sounded a little uneven.
“You go ahead. I’ll check my emails.”
She nodded sharply. Emails. Work. Yes, that was better. They needed to stay on a professional footing. This had been too much. He’d been too…nice tonight. Too much like a friend, so she’d wanted to tell him everything in her heart, to laugh with him, to cry on his shoulder.
“Would you like a tea? Coffee?” He offered, as she moved towards the bathroom.
“Where from?”
“There’s a kettle here.”
“Oh. I didn’t see. Um, yes, please. A coffee. Just –,”
“Black, no sugar,” he supplied with a smile. “Off you go.”
She frowned. How did he know how she took her coffee? She must have said so earlier. She couldn’t remember but given the drinks she’d had tonight, that was hardly surprising.
“I – won’t be long.”
He was already distracted by something, his back to her. “Take your time.”
Of course, she could take her time. It wasn’t like he’d be counting the minutes until she returned. She turned the taps on, getting the water warm before stepping into the shower cubicle, foaming her body with the body wash provided, breathing in the fragrance and letting the awful night wash over her. But as she stood under the streaming water, she realised something. The night hadn’t been awful. On the contrary, the cocktail party had been fine – bearable, except for the brief meeting with Ashton and even that had been better because Luca was at her side. And as for the pub…she’d actually had fun.
Who would have thought her billionaire boss could actually be good company?
It was only when Bronte stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel that she realised her foolish mistake. Her clothes were in the bedroom. And she was in the bathroom. And the towel was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a bath sheet. It was small in size, just enough to wrap around her midsection, but there was definitely no modesty afforded by its miniscule proportions.
“Oh, crap,” she muttered, throwing a glance to the mirror in the hope it wouldn’t be that bad. Except it was that bad. Every bit as bad.
With a sinking feeling of mortification, she turned the door handle and peeked out. Her heart trembled. He was sitting against the headboard, laptop on lap, papers spread out, a pair of glasses low on the bridge of his nose. Glasses! She’d forgotten he wore them while on the computer.
“I forgot my pyjamas,” she blabbed, wincing as she quickly stepped out into the room, unable to look at him as she moved towards her suitcase.
But she felt his eyes on her and every fibre of her being went into overdrive.
“You forgot to bring pyjamas or –,”
