“I didn’t ask for any towels.” My voice comes out harsher than I expected. I’m not prepared for the way my body is reacting to hers.
“I can, umm, leave these right here.” She has the towels on the side of her body as she uses her other arm to show where she can put them. I’m guessing she’s pointing to the bar top that she’s standing by, but with her hand moving back and forth and in every direction, she could mean anywhere.
“You can put them in the bathrooms,” I concede, and watch her the entire way, taking in the way her hips sway back and forth with every step she takes. If she’s housekeeping, I think I’ll call for new towels on the regular, especially if she’s delivering them.
Chapter Two
Cameron
“I’m so screwed,” I mumble to myself as I scurry into the master bathroom. When I got the call on my walkie-talkie that the penthouse needed towels, I dropped what I was doing and went right away. Sure, I’ve only been working in this position for a few months, but even I know the importance of the penthouse. When a client asks for towels, drinks, or food, you drop whatever the heck you’re doing, and you bust your butt. They do not wait, at all.
The gun pointed at my head almost had me fleeing the room. I pushed through, though. I need this job more than anything. I’m so close to finishing my schooling to become an Ultrasound Technician I can taste it. I have this last semester to finish up, and then I can do my internship and kiss cleaning up after people goodbye.
It doesn’t take me long to put the towels away. What I do, though, makes me stop in my tracks. I look into the mirror above the vanity, fix my ponytail that was falling out, straighten my uniform, and blow out a puff of air. “You’re an idiot, Cameron Ann Greene. No rich, hot guy is going to want anything to do with a glorified maid. Not to mention, he had a gun pointed at your head. You’re definitely an idiot.” With one last look, I turn on my heel, not looking where I’m going, and run smack dab into the hot guy himself. If he’s heard what I said about myself, I will be mortified.
“Oomph,” I let out. His hands grip my shoulders, and a tingling sensation overwhelms me. I can’t tell you when the last time someone actually touched me, even if it was to help me from falling on my ass.
“Are you okay?” he asks. My head tips up, and I can see he’s bent down to look into my eyes. I’m met with the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen; they remind me of the color of fresh-cut grass after a stormy night. His hair is styled in that way so it looks messy, short on the sides, longer on the top, and it’s a deep blond color. And the smirk he has plastered on his face is enough to have me weak in the knees.
“Yeah, I’m so sorry. I promise I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll be going now.” When I take a step back, his hands slide down mine, leaving goosebumps along the way, causing a ripple to glide through my body.
“Thank you, Cam.” His voice has a deep baritone to it.
“You’re welcome. Wait, how do you know my name?” I question. He points to my left shoulder, answering me. I can feel a flush overtaking my face, so I shake my head with a smile. “Whoops, definitely having a moment. If you need anything, a number to reach me is available in the living room,” I rush out while heading to the front door. “Why did I say reach me? Duh, it’s housekeeping in general,” I murmur under my breath.
“I’ll be seeing you around, Cam,” I hear him say as the door closes behind me. I never responded to him, but one thing is for sure; the occupant in the East penthouse suite has my toes curling. I wonder if he’s a member of the mob, or in the military. Or I know, maybe he’s a mercenary. My imagination runs wild with what he could possibly do for a living and why he’s staying in the penthouse by himself for two weeks. I was nosey enough to glance at the bedroom when I made my way into the bathroom to place the towels in their rightful place. Two bags were at the foot of his bed, one big suitcase and a smaller bag that looked more like a laptop bag. There was no woman around, no children, not even a friend. He’s definitely a mystery.
My walkie talkie sounds out loud and clear on my cart, but this time it isn’t for me. “Thank goodness. I’m not sure I can take another catastrophe today.” I look at my clipboard, looking to see if Mr. East Penthouse has a name to put to his face, and man what a face it is. My eyes took in his whole body; his skin was lightly tanned, his strong jawline was sporting a five o’clock shadow, and he had muscles that were apparent but not like some of the gym rats you see all over the place. No, you can tell he doesn’t spend seven-plus hours a day at the gym like some of the other hotel goers do. They’re on vacation, but they don’t take a break even from a gym. Sometimes, I wonder if they’re even human. My idea of a vacation is lazing around and doing nothing. Not working out every single day.