I offer him my T-shirt and he takes it, leaving me to put on his disgusting dress shirt with nothing between it and my skin. The wetness makes me cringe. Anton’s sweaty pit hair was just all over this thing.
“It’s too big,” he says, gesturing at my stomach. “You must not eat quite as many doughnuts as I do.”
“It’ll work.” I clap him on the shoulder, reminding myself that this shoe endorsement is a seven-figure deal. I can wear any shirt a few hours for that much money. “Thanks, Anton.”
He squints at me. “Wait a minute…you’re Jake Birch.”
“Yeah. You want some hockey tickets?”
“Hell yeah.”
“I’ll have the front office set you up, man.” I open the bathroom door and look at him over my shoulder. “Thanks again for the shirt.”
“Hey, sure thing.”
I hustle to get my suit, tie and shoes on but I’m still running late. The shirt smells bad and looks worse, but fuck it. It’s the best I can do for now. I still want to know where my shirt went—the one I left on the chair in my room this morning.
I’ll have to figure it out later. And if I don’t get this endorsement deal because of the nasty shirt I’m wearing, someone’s gonna be at the top of my shit list.
Chapter 3
Miranda
The splash of ice cold water on my face makes me scream and bolt upright in bed.
“What?” I cry, looking around frantically.
My sister, Paige, is standing next to the bed, a smirk on her face and an empty cup in her hand.
I narrow my eyes at her. “What the fuck was that?”
“Your alarm. You keep going back to sleep when I wake you up.”
I groan with disappointed realization. “I have to go to work.”
“Yes, you do.” She steps aside so I can get out of bed. “What time did you get in last night?”
“Two-thirty.”
Paige cringes. “Sucks to be you. You should have told that guy you wouldn’t cover his shift at the bar.”
“I need the money.”
“I don’t have class ’til eleven, so I’m going back to bed.”
I glare at her again. “I hope you dream about that guy at the gym and he can’t get it up.”
Her mouth drops open in surprise. “Now that’s just mean.”
Fatigue hits me all at once and I sigh deeply. “I have class tonight and I have to go to the library after work to finish a paper for it. I’m so tired. Why do I keep doing this to myself?”
“You shouldn’t have taken that shift last night. Go get in the shower and I’ll put on some coffee.”
It’s only a few steps to the tiny bathroom in our very tiny apartment. The entire place is about five hundred square feet. Paige and I get along well, though, and we both work or have class so much that we’re never able to get on each other’s nerves from too much togetherness. She’s in veterinary school, so studying is her second job. Her first job is waitressing at a sports bar.
After a hot shower and a cup of coffee, I’m ready to face the day. Paige hands me a travel mug full of more coffee on my way out the door.
I walk to the L train and slide into a free seat. The guy in a suit across from me checks me out over the top of the newspaper he’s reading, his gold wedding band visible on the side of the paper facing me. I give him my best “fuck off” glare.
It’s not that I don’t like men; I just prefer to appreciate them from afar. Relationships are hard, and at this stage of my life I don’t have the energy. There’s all the groundwork to determine if a man is crazy, married and lying about it, or both. And if he passes that test, he’s most likely a narcissist, a mooch or a deadbeat. Been there, done that.
The walk from the L stop to the Dupont is short, and I’m actually early to work for once. I pull my hair into a neat bun and stock my cart before the shift meeting.
Tony doesn’t have much to say this morning. He dismisses the staff and I stifle a groan when I look down at my assignment sheet and see I’ve got the penthouses again.
Crap. I still feel guilty about the shirt I ruined in one of the penthouses yesterday. I also don’t want to run into another naked woman.
I roll my cart of cleaning supplies onto the service elevator and debate whether I should knock out Jake the stripper fucker’s room first or put it off ’til last.
Might as well get it out of the way. I knock on the door and announce myself more loudly than usual.
“Housekeeping! Housekeeping coming in. Are there any naked people in here? Hello?”
Nothing. I stood in the middle of the massive suite and look around. There’s a glass on the counter and a gray sweatshirt thrown over the back of a chair.
“Hey.”
The sound of a deep male voice makes me jump and screech. I actually screech, the cry caught in my throat before it escapes sounding more like a loud wail than a scream.
A tall, well-built man is leaning backward out the bathroom door, just his head and shoulders showing.
“What the hell?” I put a palm on my chest and will my heart to resume its normal pace.
“This is my room,” the man answers.
“Yeah, but…didn’t you hear me announcing myself?”
He steps out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a white towel around his waist and I see that “well built” doesn’t even begin to describe him. His arms, chest and stomach are ripped. I didn’t even know it was possible to have so much definition on ab muscles.
“You like the view?” he asks, giving me a cocky grin and glancing down at his bare stomach.
“Uh…” I clear my throat and look up at his eyes, which are a bright gray-blue. “No, I just…”
His smile slips away. “What?”
Apparently it’s been too long since I saw a man in a nothing but a towel. I can’t even think straight right now.
“No,” I repeat, clearing my throat.
“No, you don’t like the view?”
“It’s okay, I guess.” That’s a lie, but I’m pretty sure this guy’s self-esteem will survive.
He hmm’s with amusement. “Want me to drop the towel so you can get a closer look?”
“No. No, definitely…no.” I shake my head for emphasis.