Page 19 of Sleeping with the Frenemy

Victoria

Four hours later, I was starting to think Katherine was right to call housekeeping back-breaking work. I spent my teenage years cleaning the cabins at the lodge, but that was nothing compared to the drudgery of maid service at the Valenti Hotel. The manager—a frazzled-looking woman in a blue pantsuit, heavy makeup, and fake pearls—had wasted no time showing me the laundry room and cleaning supplies.

“You’re the only housekeeper on the evening shift,” she’d explained, “so you’ll have to take care of anything the daytime staff missed. We have sixteen dirty rooms at the moment, so I’ll need you to flip those.”

Panic had shot through me. “Sixteen rooms? It’s an eight-hour shift.”

“I know,” she said, her voice muffled as she pulled clean linens from a shelf and piled them on a rolling cart. She straightened and blew a stray hair from her bottle-blond French twist. “Normally, I’d say just wipe down what you can and skip the vacuuming, but we had something of a surprise this afternoon.”

My heart rate sped up. I’d known this was coming, but hearing it out loud made it more real.

She looked up and down the hall, then lowered her voice. “We have a VIP staying with us a few days. Someone from corporate.” She said the last in the hushed tones normally reserved for celebrities and heads of state.

I raised my eyebrows. “Corporate. Wow.”

“Exactly.” Her heavily mascaraed eyes widened, and she mouthed “very big deal.”

“Sounds like it.” For a wild moment, I considered telling her I recently had sex on a table with the very same VIP, but I thought better of it. Just my luck, she’d clutch her pearls and faint right in front of the ice machine.

Instead, I’d helped her stock the cleaning cart with fresh towels and tiny wrapped soaps and made my way down a long hallway of dirty rooms. The hotel was more booked than usual due to Valentine’s Day, and I tossed out several wine bottles and heart-shaped boxes of half-eaten chocolate. I gritted my teeth as I stripped beds and emptied garbage cans. As if that wasn’t bad enough, an instrumental version of Foreigner’s “I Want to Know What Love Is” drifted from a speaker in the hallway ceiling.

But at least I didn’t have to worry about running into Chase. According to the manager, Mister Very Big Deal was staying in one of the two top-floor suites. My rooms were on the second floor, with a romantic view of the parking lot.

I shouldered my way out of a room and dumped an armful of dirty towels in the soiled laundry bin. Overhead, the music switched to a soft rock rendition of Bon Jovi’s “Shot Through the Heart.”

Seriously?Muttering under my breath, I closed the door behind me and pushed the cleaning cart to the next room on my list. When I got there, a beige-colored “do not disturb” tag hung from the handle.

Which couldn’t be right.

I double-checked the list. Yep, it was right there. Room 287. The guest had checked out at 4PM. The manager had written it herself.

Just to be safe, I rapped my knuckles on the door and called out, “Housekeeping!”

Silence.

I knocked and called out again, hoping no one from the other rooms stuck their head in the hall to complain about the noise.

When I got no response, I grabbed a bottle of cleaner and stepped through the door.

And came face to face with Chase Valenti in nothing but a white towel.

The heavy door slammed behind me—an exclamation point on my shock.

“Jesus!” My whole body went rigid, my gaze locked on Chase’s bare chest.

His wet chest, because he’d clearly just stepped out of the shower. His blond hair was tousled, as if he’d rubbed it dry. Beads of moisture dotted his upper body, from his well-defined pecs to his ripped abs. The towel was slung low on his hips, exposing a happy trail of dark blond hair that led to a sizable bulge.

And I knew just how sizable it was.

“Victoria?” For a second, he looked speechless, his handsome features blank with shock. Then he frowned. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I work here.”

“Work… What are you talking about?”

I lifted the bottle of cleaner. “Housekeeping.”

He stared at the bottle, and his gaze narrowed. “Who hired you?”

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