Our shoulders brushed as I stepped past Julian and I inhaled the scent of his body wash: clean, masculine, fresh. It was just what I’d expected and the last thing I needed as I tried to piece together my resolve.
“I swear this isn’t how it will be,” he said, closing the door behind him and holding his hands up in an innocent gesture.
I dropped my laptop bag on a lounge chair in the suite’s living room and then spun around to face him.
Abort! Abort! Staring at him when he was only wearing a towel was not good for my sensibilities. Before I could help myself, my gaze followed the contours of his chiseled torso, down over his abs, until I found myself staring at his hand gripping the towel right in front of his crotch.
Welp, I just stared at my boss’ crotch for like a solid ten seconds. That’ll help the situation. I gulped and looked away.
“I really thought we would have an office space by now,” he said.
“Don’t worry about it, I understand,” I said, admiring the fine art on the hotel room walls. Yes, oh how very nice. I love sailboats. They’re much better to look at than Julian’s naked torso.
I saw him run his hand through his damp hair out of the corner of my eye and then he took a step forward.
“I worked out a little longer than usual so I’m running a bit late.”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Okay, well…” I waved my hand to silence him. I was two seconds away from embarrassing myself, and I really needed to prevent that from happening. “It wasn’t that awkward before, but now we’re just standing here talking and you’re wearing nothing but a towel, so maybe you should go get dressed already.”
“Right.” He laughed, then spun to head into his room.
“Make yourself at home!” he called as he shut himself in his room.
Only after his door was closed did I let my eyes wander around his space. It was remarkably tidy for a single guy’s hotel room. No pizza boxes or beer cans littered the floor. A half-read New York Times sat beside an empty coffee cup on the living room table. He’d even taken the time to refold his newspaper as neatly as possible.
“Did that woman outside think that you were a prostitute?” Julian yelled through his door.
I smiled. “Yeah, is she used to a parade of them lined up for room 3002?”
“Ha ha. Sadly, my only visitor is Gary from room service.”
I smiled as I stepped toward the window to admire his view.
“Okay, so I suppose I just look the part,” I joked as the door to his room swung open.
He stepped out wearing gray slacks and a crisp white button-down. He was still finishing buttoning his shirt, so I was momentarily graced with one last glimpse of his chest. Buff—check. Tan—check. Just a sprinkling of chest hair that made my mouth water—check.
I glanced up to see him eyeing me with curiosity. He’d shaved away the stubble I’d grown familiar with the day before and had taken the time to style his hair after he’d gotten dressed. He looked like a consummate business man. Too bad the rest of him didn’t fit the bill. He’d developed a tan from our time spent outdoors while looking at properties, which only made his features more appealing. He had a devious glint in his eye as he inspected me from across the room, but I captured my thoughts and pushed them away before my silence became too noticeable.
Julian laughed. “Between you and my sister, I don’t think I can handle any more women in my life at the moment.”
I sat down on the couch and pulled out my laptop.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” he said, meeting my eye for a moment before picking up the hotel phone. “Have you eaten already?”
“Some toast before I left the house.”
“What an inspired meal,” he said sarcastically, just as a voice on the other end of the line picked up.
“Hey!” I argued, trying to defend my love of toast, but he held up his hand to silence me with a smile.
“This is Julian Lefray in suite 3002. I’d like to place an order for French toast with a side of sausage.”
“Oh gross. Everyone knows bacon is better than sausage,” I whispered over the back of the couch.
“And a side of bacon,” he said with a touch of amusement in his voice. He held his hand over the receiver and turned to me. “How do you prefer your coffee?”
“With a splash of almond milk, please.”
“Yes. Two cups of coffee, and could you bring some almond milk on the side? That will be all. Thank you.”
He dropped the phone back onto the receiver and I stared down at my laptop as I typed in my password.
Out of the corner of my eye I caught his bare feet and smiled. He’d styled his hair, shaved, and put on business attire, but apparently wearing shoes was asking too much.
“I figured if I’m going to force you to work in a hotel room, the least I can do is feed you,” he said, grabbing his laptop from his desk and joining me in the suite’s living room. There were two small couches that faced each other and a modern armchair that looked about as comfortable as a rock. He picked the couch across from me and met my eye.
“Will this do?” he asked, his tone a bit more vulnerable than I was used to.
Sure the situation was unorthodox and I’d just seen my boss in nothing but a towel, but nothing with Julian seemed awkward or strained. Working across from him and joking about whether he employed any ladies of the night seemed like normal water cooler talk.