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CHAPTER EIGHT
Ashlyn
She couldn’t be the housekeeper. I eyed her designer bag she’d thrown onto the couch. And Liam hadn’t mentioned anyone else coming by ever. Even his secretary at work, while not the most welcoming person, didn’t lurk in the shadows.
This woman was someone else altogether. I couldn’t tell if she was truly that much taller than me, or if the red-bottoms she was wearing had simply pushed her up that high. Regardless, I pictured her being someone who would look down her nose at anyone of any size, whether they were taller or shorter than her.
She lounged against the granite countertops, one smooth hip propped against the edge. Cool eyes watched me.
“My name is Ashlyn.” Why did it sound like a question?
Tall, brunette, and beautiful gave me a quick perusal, her perfect nails never slowing as they sped across the screen of her phone. “Breaking his rule on bringing girls back to the house? My, my, my, what was he thinking?”
My jaw dropped. “And you are?”
She smiled slowly, like a cat who caught the canary. “Let me give you some clues. I own half this apartment, I know you snagged those”—she pointed at my borrowed sweats—“from the top drawer. And I’m here to pick up my charger from the other night. What do you think?”
“You’re with Liam?” When had my voice gotten so high? Probably when I realized I was standing in a kitchen at an ungodly hour with the most probable girlfriend of the man I’d just spent the night beside, fantasizing about him. Horror swept over me.
“Oh my God, I need to go.” I finally choked out, feeling like a speck of dust on her dress, ready to be brushed away.
“Yeah, probably a good idea.” She gave me a slow smile, fingers still flying. I cringed.
I ran for it, my feet slapping against the hardwood as I dashed down the hall. Throwing open the door, I shouted behind me, “Nothing happened, in case you wondered.”
The beautiful stranger didn’t even bother turning around. Breathless and feeling like the weight of the world was crushing me, I ran to the parking lot, bare feet slapping. There was only one person I could call at this time of day, and she was going to be pissed for so many reasons. I swiped my screen open, biting my lips as I scrolled through my favorites.
“Cici, can you come pick me up?”
***
Liam
I was not a morning person. My usual crack-of-dawn wake up was only because there was ultimately no other way to get my task list done in the day. But I had to admit, if I got to wake up to Ashlyn’s sweet body curled nicely against mine every morning, I’d be way more interested in rising with the sun. If you know what I mean.
I gritted my teeth after pressing the end call button on my phone. It had been bad. That should make me feel a bit less like a whore for bailing on Ashlyn when things had been getting good. But it didn’t.
I tried to shake off the residual frustration at the interruption, as well as the irritation that I didn’t have time to crawl back in bed and torment Miss Grove more. Waking up beside her had been something new. I was surprised how much I had enjoyed waking up and feeling the curve of her body against mine. Even more so when she curved into me, her voice ragged and begging. My body stiffened. I glance down at my phone. I guessed I did have a few minutes to spare.
I slipped back into the room, my mind full of Ashlyn’s curves, only to realize that it was now empty. The sheets on her side had been thrown back wildly. Immediately my chest tightened with dread, and I followed the opened door to my living room.
And there, polishing off a bagel, fresh coffee steaming from her hand, was my baby sister, Samantha Macklen.
“Sam, what the hell?” I gestured around her. The penthouse was decidedly silent. “Did you—”
Sam cut me off with a smile, quickly swallowing her bite. “Yeah, no problem. I scared her off.”
My head thudded. “You did what?”
“The girl rocking oh-so-classy heels with the sweats look. Typical walk of shame garb. I sent her on her way. You’re welcome.” Samantha selected another cardboard coffee cup from the counter and held it in my direction.
“Oh my God, Sam! She wasn’t some quickie that I needed to get rid of. She’s a business associate with a concussion!”
Sam cocked a perfectly arched brow at me, smoothing the edges of her blown-out brunette curls.
“Do you know who you are talking to? I know practically everyone at Leden. And that”—she gestured at the door with perfectly manicured nails—“was no business associate. And besides, I know she had to have been in your room. Since she sure as hell wasn’t in Ian’s…”
I groaned, fisting my hands in my hair as I folded in half.
