Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club, #1)(27)

So I left the door open a crack, slipped out of my clothes, and got into Shepherd’s glorious bathtub.

The water was perfect. I settled in, letting the heat seep into me. I hadn’t seen any bubble bath—which, honestly, was a relief. If Shepherd had bubble bath, the only conclusion would be that one of his past girlfriends had left it here. There was nothing wrong with a man who liked bubble baths, but he didn’t strike me as the type, so I doubted it was the sort of thing he’d keep on hand for himself. And despite the fact that this was totally fake, I didn’t like the idea of finding traces of another woman here.

Call me territorial, but I was going to be the only woman in my fake boyfriend’s life. While we were still faking it, of course.

My phone buzzed against the tile with a text.

Nora: Well?

Me: In the bath. Nothing. I think he’s working.

Nora: Boring.

Me: What do you expect me to do?

Nora: Did you leave the door open a little?

Me: Yes, but only so it wouldn’t get too steamy.

Hazel: Mildew can be a serious health hazard.

Nora: Whatever makes you feel better.

The sound of the bedroom door opening and closing almost made me drop my phone in the water. I gasped, bobbling my phone a few times. I could hear Shepherd’s brisk footsteps in the other room. They stopped, then seemed to go back the direction they’d come.

Me: He’s in the bedroom, but I think he’s about to leave.

Nora: I bet he walks by again.

Hazel: Curiosity is a powerful force.

Nora: If Hazel agrees with me, you know I’m right.

I shifted, the water moving in a slow wave. And then I heard his footsteps again. Had he walked by the door?

Me: Okay, heard him walk by again. I think.

Nora: Told you.

I waited, scarcely daring to breathe. I was sure—positive, even—that he was doing something perfectly normal that had nothing to do with curiosity about me in his bathtub.

The footsteps stopped, but I didn’t hear the bedroom door open again. He was still out there. Not going to his office.

He walked by the bathroom door again. Was I imagining things, or did he walk much slower that time?

Me: I think he strolled past the bathroom door.

Nora: Strolled?

Me: I just mean he walked… slower.

Nora: It’s ridiculous how much fun this is. E, move your legs so the water splashes a little.

I shifted and the water moved, making a soft splashing sound. For a second, there was only silence. Then I heard Shepherd’s quick footsteps and the bedroom door opening and closing.

Me: He left.

Nora: Immediately or after a pause?

Me: After a pause, I guess.

Nora: I love this. You flustered him. I bet he went to his office to stroke the sex stick.

Hazel: You think? He didn’t receive much stimulation.

Nora: He has his hot assistant naked in his bathtub. He’s stimulated.

Groaning, I leaned my head back. What was I doing? I shouldn’t be making this situation more uncomfortable than it already was. That’s what I got for listening to Nora.

Me: I’m getting out and going to bed. I have to work in the morning.

Nora: Walk by his office and see if you hear anything.

Me: No!

Nora: Fine. You’re boring. But we all know he’s in there pleasuring himself to the thought of you in his tub.

Me: I’m positive he isn’t.

Neither of them replied, so I put my phone down and enjoyed the hot water for a little bit longer. I didn’t hear any sign of Shepherd. I was sure he wasn’t even remotely interested in what I was doing in here. He’d probably been in the bedroom to get something, or to change his clothes. Maybe he hadn’t been sure I was in here, so he’d paused by the door to see if the bathroom was occupied. Nora had this all wrong. He wasn’t aroused by the thought of me in his bathtub. The guy was practically a robot. Sometimes I figured he dated just to project the illusion that he was human.

Then again, when he’d taken me home from the gala, he’d seemed remarkably human.

I got out, took a quick shower to rinse off and wash my hair, and got ready for bed. Shepherd was apparently still in his office—did he ever not work?—when I stood facing the bed, my hands on my hips, dressed in my good morning sunshine t-shirt and shorts pajama set.

This was where things got real. I was standing here, staring at my boss’s bed, and somehow, I had to talk myself into getting in it.

A noise from the hallway made me gasp. He was coming. As quickly as I could, I turned off the lamp and jumped into bed, whipping the covers up over my shoulder. I’d pretend to be asleep. Then he could do what he needed to do, get in bed, and we’d both be spared the worst of the awkwardness.

I scarcely dared to breathe as the door whispered open. He clicked it shut almost silently. Was he trying to be quiet for me? That was nice of him. He went into the bathroom and closed the door.

The tension of the day was finally wearing on me. I’d tried to keep things light and friendly with Shepherd, but he was so serious. It was hard to know what he was thinking. At work, I’d learned not to worry about it. But this was different. I needed to figure out how to navigate this new dynamic, and I needed to do it fast.

My eyes were just starting to get heavy when Shepherd came out of the bathroom. My back was toward his side of the bed, but I swore I could feel his movements. Usually, he was brusque and exacting. I could envision him getting into his bed at night with authority, the way he did everything else.