about him seeing her bodyâespecially her least favourite bitsâin the full light of morning. Not that the tiny boxroom window let in much light at all but it was certainly brighter than the steamy dark theyâd shared last night.
So thenâ¦what? Lie here, clenching her bladder until Prince Harry, there, deigned to wake?
Screw that.
Izzy arched off the bed and reached one hand beneath herself, grasping the edge of her pretty duvetâking-sized on account of her old bedâthen she begged her abdominal muscles to cooperate and pushed up into a sitting position, dragging the covers up with her.
Cool morning air rushed in behind her.
Clambering over Harryâs legs wasnât quite as confronting as his hips and she twisted leftâtaking great care to keep the duvet between themâand half crawled, half rolled over his calves, her eyes firmly closed as she robbed him of covers.
She only opened them when the timber floorwas beneath her feet and escape was in front of her.
âElegant,â a sleep-thick voice rumbled from behind.
Busted.
âYou sleep like the dead,â she muttered back over her shoulder, tugging on the pyjama bottoms that had tumbled to the floor from under her pillow with all the on-bed activity.
âI wasnât asleep. And you didnât even try to wake me.â
âIâve been lying there, legs crossed, for eternity. You could have let on you were awake.â
It was clumsy but she managed to get her PJ top on, too, beneath the downy protection of her covers.
âAnd miss the Cirque du Soleil dismount?â
She had landed with quite a flourish. She threw back her duvet and only turned back when she felt certain it would have fluttered down onto Harry sufficient for everyoneâs modesty.
He tugged it back up around him for warmth. But the move looked too easy, as if he was settling in for a long stay. The rest of her squeezed up as tight as her bladder.
âDo you want first run at the bathroom?â
God, how polite was she?
âI went earlier,â he drawled, his accent more pronounced in the morning.
That would explain when and how sheâd slid off him into the cool embrace of the wall.
âBumped into duffel dude heading out before dawn. A friend of Poppyâs brother. I gather she wasnât thrilled about him being here.â
Soâ¦this morning wasnât surreal enough. Now her boss was filling her in on her own flatâs gossip. Her pulse started to panic.
âHold that thought,â she said, holding up a hand.
The plethora of hanging things clattered against her door as she opened it and hurried into the bathroom.
Relief only took moments but Izzy hung out in there, standing on the toilet mat to stop her feet from chilling on the stone tile floor, gnawing on the inside of her cheek and desperately trying to pluck reality from this weird fantasy sheâd found herself in.
What was the protocol here?
Should she ask him to leave? Should she ask him to stay? Should she invite him with her flatmates to breakfast later? All equally terrifying concepts. Theyâd had a fantastic night ofwhat Tori would call âmonkey sexâ and overall she was very pleased with her first crack at a one-night stand.
Possibly her last if this excruciating indecision was always waiting in the morning.
Why couldnât he have just tiptoed out like the coward he probably was ?
Finger-combing her short hair and briefly checking her face for panda eyes, Izzy turned back for her bedroom and entered with the words already forming on her lips.
âSoââ
But she neednât have bothered. Harry had redonned his suit in the time sheâd been hovering like a coward in the bathroom. He was just tucking his tie into his jacket pocket. As he did he pulled her ID card back out of it. And held it out.
âSo, see you Monday?â
She just blinked.
âAt the office?â
It hit her then. What he