Page 9 of Slumming It

Even so, I counted to ten before slowly opening the door and poking my head out to peer into the hall.

Shit.

My eyes widened, and I sucked in a breath.

Lounging against the opposite wall, just out of peephole range, was Mister Billionaire Bigshot himself – practically shirtless considering that he hadn't bothered with a single button of his dark dress shirt. Instead, he had left the shirt wide open and untucked, falling just past his waist.

My gaze dipped and lingered as I took in his glorious pecs and abs so fine they put my fantasies to shame.

My pulse gave a crazy little jump.Wow.

But then I caught myself. With a start, I jerked my gaze upward to focus on his face. Our gazes locked, and I felt myself swallow.

His hair was thick and dark. His eyes were a deep shade of brown. His nose was straight, and his lips were so stupidly kissable that I might've stopped to admire them if not for the tightness of his jaw and the ominous storm brewing in his eyes.

He looked ready to kill someone, me in particular.

As I stumbled out of his room, I heard myself stammer, "Um…housekeeping?"

Chapter 4

Reese

Housekeeping, my ass.

I gave my unwanted guest a long, calculating look. She wore khaki pants, white sneakers, and a dark turtleneck streaked with dust. Her eyes were green, and her hair was a golden shade of brown. It tumbled over her shoulders in loose waves that I might've liked if I weren't so pissed off. "Tell me something."

Little Miss Housekeeper blinked up at me. "What?"

"How much did you pay her?"

"Who?"

The clueless act wasn't cutting it. "The hotel clerk."

This made her frown. "I didn't pay her anything. I work here." She visibly swallowed. "Honest."

I let my gaze drop rudely to her chest. She had nice breasts, firm and tight like the rest of her. But this wasn't why I'd looked. In my world, nice tits were a dime a dozen, and I wasn't the ogling type.

Still, I waited a good, long beat before looking up with a scoff. "I don't see a name tag."

Her eyes narrowed like she'd just been insulted.Good.

I'd meant to be insulting.If she couldn’t take a simple look, she had no business crawling around in my hotel room. And shehadbeen crawling. This much was obvious.

And hey, call me a dick, but she'd looked first – and longer. If she couldn't take it, she shouldn't be dishing it out.

When she remained silent, I felt my jaw flex. "The tag," I said. "Where is it?"

Her chin lifted. "I don't need a name tag. It's not like I'm working the front desk."

Right.Because she was the housekeeper – as if I hadn't heard that one before. I pushed away from the wall and took a single step toward her. "So, what is it?"

She stiffened. "What's what?"

"Your name."

"It's um, Emily, actually."