Page 34 of Slumming It

He gestured toward the bed. "It's under the clothes. You can sign it after you change." His tone grew mocking. "Unless you're quitting already."

Was that a challenge?It sure sounded like it. Or more likely, this was the way healwaysacted with people he considered beneath him.

My mouth went suddenly dry.Beneath him.

Well,thatwas thought-provoking – and slightly repellent considering his attitude.

Pushing aside the distraction, I considered why I'd come here in the first place.Did it really matter what I wore? Or how I felt about it?

No.

If I wanted to save the town from being hoovered up by a condescending jerkwad like him, I would wear a clown costume if that's what it took.

With new resolve, I turned back to the bed and grabbed the townie-wear along with the paperwork, which he had placed in a big manilla envelope beneath the red flannel shirt. And then, I turned on my heels and marched straight into the bathroom without another word.

When I emerged a few minutes later dressed in my so-called uniform, Reese Murdock was nowhere in sight. I glanced around, taking in the empty space along with the lone crumpled bill remaining on the bed.

I gave the bill a wary glance. Now that I didn't have an audience, I walked slowly toward it and plucked it up to see what it was.

A hundred dollars.

This made two-hundred total.

It wasn't a fortune, but it was a lot more than I'd been expecting. Some of the money would go to Rosalie for doing my job, but some of it would be mine to keep.

Heaven knows I could use the money.

I took a deep, calming breath. The way things were looking, I would definitely be earning it.

Chapter 12

Reese

When the knock sounded at the door to my hotel room, I took my sweet time in getting up to answer. Fifteen minutes ago I'd left my fake girlfriend in the neighboring hotel room with the clothes and cash.

And the agreement.

This had given her plenty of time to go along with the game or get the hell out of Dodge. Last night, I'd put the odds at ninety-ten that she would actually show – and significantly lower that she would wear the ridiculous outfit and sign the agreement.

Both were obnoxious as hell, but that was the point.

Yesterday, I hadn't known who she was.Now I did. Her full name was Emily Ann Quinn, and she was no random housekeeper, which made her invasion of my privacy a more serious transgression than I'd thought.

At one time, I might've called her my competition.Not anymore.

These days, Ihadno competition, just like I had no desire to save Emily Ann Quinn from herself – or from a little payback, which some might say was long overdue.

When I pulled open the door to my room, she was standing in the hall, shifting from foot to foot on her high black heels.And yes, she was wearing the ridiculous getup.

I frowned.Fuck if she didn't look good in it, too.

She wasn't tall by any means. And yet, her tanned legs looked long and shapely in those absurd shorts. True, the heels gave her added height, but even in flat sneakers, she would've warranted a second look.

And maybe a third.

As far as the red flannel shirt, it was slightly tight across her chest, accenting her curves and making me wonder what kind of bra she was wearing underneath. Something black and lacy? Or something virginal and white?

Either way, I was more curious than I'd meant to be.