Before I know it, an hour has passed and I’m close to being late for work.
“Shit!”
“I’ll drive you,” Day says, packing her camera away.
“And how am I supposed to get home?”
“Call this number.” She digs her hand in her purse and hands me a card. “It’s Aaron’s car service. Just tell them to charge it to his account under my name.”
“Won’t he care?”
She opens my door and turns back to me, her eyebrow arched. “Liv, he won’t even notice.”
“Must be nice,” I mutter, following her out.
I collapse back onto my sofa. Pizza, a late night working, and the 30 Day Shred are not an ideal combination. In fact, they’re not desirable. Not in the slightest.
My phone rings and I reach for it lazily, not moving from my slouched position. “Hello?” I groan into the receiver.
“Am I interrupting something?”
The British accent makes me sit up. I moan at the ache in my muscles. “Yes. You interrupted my post-workout collapse.”
“Post-workout? Does that mean I’m talking to you and you’re all sweaty?” His tone is suggestive, and I want to rip his face off through the phone.
“If I’m not sweaty, I’m not doing it right,” I retort, swinging my legs around so my feet are on the floor. “Bypassing the question of how you got my number, why are you calling me?”
“Dayton wants me to invite you for lunch.”
“Why can’t she call me herself? Wait, why didn’t she ask me yesterday when she was here?”
“She’s run into the office with Aaron for some emergency, and it’s an impromptu lunch.”
“Impromptu? Right.” I draw the word out. “And when exactly am I expected to be ready?”
“Right now.”
Several taps at my door follow his words and my head twists in that direction so fast my neck cricks. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Another knock.
I get up, keeping my phone attached to my ear, and pull my door open a crack. And stare into dark, amused eyes. “How the hell do you know where I live?”
He hangs up and pockets the phone. His lips twist to one side. “Aaron. Dayton told me to invite you to lunch. Aaron demanded I come get you.”
I narrow my eyes as his flick over my face and slowly make their way down my body. Sean’s door opens behind him and I find my neighbor’s eyes over Tyler’s shoulder despite being a few inches shorter.
Sean doesn’t say a word. He just raises his eyebrows and gives me a thumbs-up as he makes his way downstairs.
“Are you done ogling me yet?” I snap, feeling my body heat beneath Tyler’s gaze.
“Are you letting me in yet?”
I open the door wider and let him in. I can’t believe that Aaron sent him to my apartment. I’m going to kick his rich little ass next time I see him. Hard.
Tyler looks around and kicks the door shut behind him. I shoot him a glare, but he’s too busy nosing at the bookshelf in my living room to notice. He pulls one book off and reads the back of it.
“You actually read this stuff?” he asks, turning to me.
I snatch the book from him and put it back on the shelf. “That stuff is erotic romance.”
“Erotic romance? More like porn on a page.”
“Or it’s hot sex with an engrossing storyline, but whatever.” I pause in the doorway. “I’m going to shower. And don’t get any ideas,” I add at the glint in his eyes. “There’s a lock on the door.”
I storm into the bathroom and lock the door behind me. I quickly start the shower and strip off, leaving my workout clothes in a heap on the floor.
Tyler Stone is in my house. And I’m naked.
Thankfully he’s not. Hopefully he’s not.
Crap. There are so many things wrong with this. Namely: Tyler Stone is in my house and I’m naked.
I step under the hot spray and cover my face with my hands. I need to take a few deep breaths because I’m starting to freak out like a fucking teenager about to go on her first date.
I wash myself quickly, pausing at the conditioner before deciding that it’s worth being naked for a minute longer to get soft hair. I get out of the shower and reach for my—
Shit. I don’t have a towel in here. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
My eyes frantically scan the room. There’s always a towel lying discarded somewhere in this room, but for the first time ever, there isn’t. All because I did laundry this morning. Damn laundry.
Crap. “Um, Tyler?” I call through the bathroom door. “Tyler!”
“What’s wrong?” The door rattles as he leans against it or something.