My breath hitched in my throat. Why did I keep hearing double meanings in his words?
“Ready to see your room?” Jett grabbed my suitcase and set off through what looked like a living room, toward three doors. I hurried to keep up with him. He opened one of them and moved aside to let me through. “This is it. If you need anything I’ll be next door.” He pointed at the closed door. “I’ll leave you to unpack. Work starts at eight sharp. I like my employees to be punctual so don’t be late.”
The guy was sleeping next door. With only a few inches of wall between us. I wondered whether he slept naked. He sure had been in my bed. The picture of a naked Jett Mayfield looking all self-assured and not bothered flashed before my eyes. My cheeks began to burn.
Not again.
Talk about being doomed.
He smirked as though he could sense my thoughts. My temper flared. What sort of sleeping arrangement was that? Was it even legal? I opened my mouth to protest when he pressed his index finger against my lips, silencing me instantly.
“I like to keep my personal assistants at my beck and call. I hope you don’t have a problem with that.” His gaze bore into me, challenging me to show just how much his proximity blew off any sense of self-control. Did I have a problem with that? You bet, and yet I shook my head no. He was just a man, for crying out loud. I could deal with his kind. Besides, I had a million other questions that needed addressing. Like why he employed me and brought me in on such an important job at the last minute, when it’d take me ages to get acquainted with all the details.
“Eight a.m. it is.” My voice came lower than expected and a little bit hoarse, but at least I managed to speak.
“Sleep well, Miss Stewart. I’ll make sure to make this stay worth remembering.” He smiled and my heart dropped into my panties. A big neon light flashed before my eyes:
BIG MISTAKE, BIG MISTAKE!
I had to get the heck away from him, and yet my feet remained glued to the spot as I watched him stroll into the living room. His narrow waist accentuated the broad shoulders and sculpted upper arms that were clearly visible beneath his thin shirt. My gaze moved down to his long legs and strong thighs—thighs I imagined parting and settling between my legs.
I groaned, irritated with myself, and slammed the door a tad too hard.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When my alarm went off, I could have screamed. I had been right in the throes of a fantastic dream during which I was holding on tight to a hard muscular back while being devoured by soft luscious lips. I glanced down at my wet naked skin and the crumpled silk sheet between my thighs. One more second and my nerve endings would have exploded like stardust. Instead, I was left panting and frustrated with a delicious ache in my lower body.
It was official. Jett Townsend was haunting my dreams. As my pulse settled down again, I got up and straightened the sheets as best as I could. What the hotel staff thought of me should have been the least of my worries, but for some reason it mattered because I cared about my job and reputation. Deep in my heart I knew having sex on a business trip was nothing but a meaningless fling. If Mayfield propositioned, and if for some stupid reason I wouldn’t be able to resist his sexy charm, the whole hotel would know I had succumbed to the temptation and surrendered to his lust. I didn’t want anyone to think Mayfield scored with the arguably professional assistant on the first day. It didn’t feel right.
But isn’t that exactly what happened back home?
Pushing the irritating yet accurate thought to the back of my mind, I implored my brain to become obsessed with something or someone else…and failed. I hadn’t heard a sound since last night when Jett had left me standing in front of my door, which led me to believe that he was either very quiet or didn’t spend the night in his room. Call me opinionated, but I was ready to bet on the latter. He was the bad boy type all right. The type my mother warned me about. The type you have a good time with, then forget about as you go home to live your boring life, while he moves on to the next skirt ready to give him the time of day.
Only this bad boy wouldn’t be so easy to forget because we worked together. I had only two options: either get rid of him or find a way to ease those hormones that followed me even in my dreams. Quitting my job wasn’t an option so Number Two it was. If only I knew how to stop turning into a drooling teen every time I so much as heard his voice.
Maybe it won’t be so bad in the light of day.