Did Someone Order Room Service?: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance Novella (Do Not Disturb, Book 2) by Charlotte Phillips Read Free Book Online
Authors: Charlotte Phillips
celebrity guest is exactly what the place needs to up the hotel’s profile and get us playing with the big boys. So get yourself up to the Kerry Suite and keep that guest happy. Everyone’s a winner.’
****
Everyone was most definitely NOT a winner.
The manager’s job could be her saving grace. Finally she could be making enough money to start moving forwards instead of madly paddling just to keep her head above water. She could save up a new deposit, she’d be a better prospect for a mortgage. A proper secure future with a bit of certainty about it for a change. But all she needed to do to make it happen was not stuff this up. Plans to avoid Matt Stanton like the plague for the week went out of the window and she tried desperately to come up with some kind of rational approach as the lift took her smoothly up to the top floor.
Maybe he really did just need a temporary assistant for the week to handle his admin while he stayed here. It wasn’t exactly unusual for the hotel to allow guests to utilise their staff when required. If you were prepared to paint a whole floor candy pink giving up one of your staff instead of calling in a temp from an agency was really a no-brainer.
Except that he’d asked for her by name
. And surely that could only mean one thing: the kind of personal services he was looking for had nothing to do with making travel arrangements and doing a few secretarial jobs.
There was nothing else for it, she would just have to convince Matt Stanton that she wasn’t up for a week-long stint as his plaything. She’d already made it clear that what had happened between them was a mistake, all she needed to do was stick to that line.
If
she could pull it off.
She kept her eyes fixed on the panel of lift buttons instead of checking her reflection in its mirrored wall as she usually did, just to prove to herself that she definitely did not give a toss what Matt Stanton thought of her appearance. This would be about providing a professional service. Nothing more. And if she could just keep things on that kind of detached level her life might look a whole lot more optimistic in a week’s time.
And it would be a whole lot easier if her stupid heart stopped skipping a beat every time she thought of him.
‘Good of you to knock,’ he said as he opened the door. He was wearing jeans and a sea green shirt that did nothing to hide the broad muscular shoulders, sleeves pushed up to the elbows to reveal his strong tanned forearms. His hair was softly tousled and his brown eyes creased lightly at the corners as he leaned against the jamb and smiled his melt-your-stomach smile. Her heart, clearly not up to speed on the absolute requirement for professionalism here, did a soft little skip in her chest.
Warmth rose in her cheeks as she crossed the room to stand by the rolltop desk in the corner and turned to face him. She deliberately averted her eyes from the glossy dining table in her peripheral vision. It was hard enough to stop her mind from providing constant reruns of what had gone on over there, without actually
looking
at the scene. She turned to him, spiral notebook upraised like a shield in front of her chest, pen poised to take notes.
‘Perhaps we can start with a brief outline of the tasks you think you need covering. That will give me an indication of how to adjust my working hours. I’ve been covering the late shift this last week or two but I can change that around depending on the kind of admin support you’re after.’
Admin support. That was good. That sounded officey.
He waved a dismissive hand her way.
‘Shouldn’t think there’s any major need for you to adjust your hours,’ he said. ‘The whole point of me staying here this week is to refocus on my training and minimise distractions. I have training sessions every morning with an early start so I’m not likely to be in the suite until the afternoon. If you could arrange transport to and from the tennis club I’ll be using,
****
Everyone was most definitely NOT a winner.
The manager’s job could be her saving grace. Finally she could be making enough money to start moving forwards instead of madly paddling just to keep her head above water. She could save up a new deposit, she’d be a better prospect for a mortgage. A proper secure future with a bit of certainty about it for a change. But all she needed to do to make it happen was not stuff this up. Plans to avoid Matt Stanton like the plague for the week went out of the window and she tried desperately to come up with some kind of rational approach as the lift took her smoothly up to the top floor.
Maybe he really did just need a temporary assistant for the week to handle his admin while he stayed here. It wasn’t exactly unusual for the hotel to allow guests to utilise their staff when required. If you were prepared to paint a whole floor candy pink giving up one of your staff instead of calling in a temp from an agency was really a no-brainer.
Except that he’d asked for her by name
. And surely that could only mean one thing: the kind of personal services he was looking for had nothing to do with making travel arrangements and doing a few secretarial jobs.
There was nothing else for it, she would just have to convince Matt Stanton that she wasn’t up for a week-long stint as his plaything. She’d already made it clear that what had happened between them was a mistake, all she needed to do was stick to that line.
If
she could pull it off.
She kept her eyes fixed on the panel of lift buttons instead of checking her reflection in its mirrored wall as she usually did, just to prove to herself that she definitely did not give a toss what Matt Stanton thought of her appearance. This would be about providing a professional service. Nothing more. And if she could just keep things on that kind of detached level her life might look a whole lot more optimistic in a week’s time.
And it would be a whole lot easier if her stupid heart stopped skipping a beat every time she thought of him.
‘Good of you to knock,’ he said as he opened the door. He was wearing jeans and a sea green shirt that did nothing to hide the broad muscular shoulders, sleeves pushed up to the elbows to reveal his strong tanned forearms. His hair was softly tousled and his brown eyes creased lightly at the corners as he leaned against the jamb and smiled his melt-your-stomach smile. Her heart, clearly not up to speed on the absolute requirement for professionalism here, did a soft little skip in her chest.
Warmth rose in her cheeks as she crossed the room to stand by the rolltop desk in the corner and turned to face him. She deliberately averted her eyes from the glossy dining table in her peripheral vision. It was hard enough to stop her mind from providing constant reruns of what had gone on over there, without actually
looking
at the scene. She turned to him, spiral notebook upraised like a shield in front of her chest, pen poised to take notes.
‘Perhaps we can start with a brief outline of the tasks you think you need covering. That will give me an indication of how to adjust my working hours. I’ve been covering the late shift this last week or two but I can change that around depending on the kind of admin support you’re after.’
Admin support. That was good. That sounded officey.
He waved a dismissive hand her way.
‘Shouldn’t think there’s any major need for you to adjust your hours,’ he said. ‘The whole point of me staying here this week is to refocus on my training and minimise distractions. I have training sessions every morning with an early start so I’m not likely to be in the suite until the afternoon. If you could arrange transport to and from the tennis club I’ll be using,
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