Dirty Work - Regina Kyle Page 0,39
after round one—or was it two?—of bed sex. The doc said I can sleep without it, although there wasn’t a whole lot of sleeping going on in here last night. I consider taking the time to wrangle my way back into the damn thing, but the banging and the howling are picking up speed and volume. Leaving the sling where it is, I continue on my way, closing the bedroom door behind me so I don’t disturb Sleeping Beauty.
“Hold your horses, I’m coming,” I shout, not sure if it’s directed at Roscoe, whoever’s at the door or both. I decide to deal with the dog first. I crack my bedroom door open to let him out, and he practically bowls me over on his way to the kitchen to check out the food and water situation.
After a quick peek inside to make sure he hasn’t peed on my designer bedspread or chewed up one of my Gucci loafers, I head for the door. I’m halfway there when Connor’s voice rings out through the banging.
“I know you’re in there, Lawson. The doorman’s working a double shift. He said you haven’t left since last night.”
I’ve got to have a word with that guy. He’s not supposed to let anyone up without calling first.
“How did you con your way past him?” I ask, opening the door.
“I’m on your emergency contact list.” He brushes past me into the kitchen, stopping to pet Roscoe, who’s sitting mournfully next to his empty food bowl. “I’ve been trying to call you for over an hour.”
I dump a couple of scoops of kibble from the wholesale club–size bag on the floor next to the refrigerator into Roscoe’s bowl and lean against the counter. “What’s up?”
Roscoe wedges his big body between me and Connor, buries his face in his food and starts chowing down like he hasn’t eaten since there was a Bush in the White House.
Connor steps around the dog and pulls out a stool to sit down. “Your guy in Miami faxed some documents for you to go over. Said it’s time sensitive. He wants you to get a hold of him as soon as you’ve read them.”
“Why didn’t he fax them here?”
“Beats me. You’ll have to ask him.”
He hands over a large manila envelope, then frowns. “Where’s your sling?”
“Relax, Dr. House. I’m allowed to take it off to sleep.”
“You’re not sleeping now.”
I toss the envelop onto the counter. “I just woke up. Cut me some slack.”
Connor’s eyes dart to the digital clock on the microwave above the stove. “Jake Lawson, sleeping past seven? What’s wrong? Are you sick? Hung over? Or did you stay up all night playing hide the cannoli with your new roommate?”
It takes everything I have not to smack the smirk off his smug, pretty-boy face. He may be my best friend, but right now he might as well be Draco Malfoy to my Harry Potter. I’ve got to get him out of here before Ainsley stumbles out of bed, all morning-after sleepy and sexy and clearly well fucked. One look at her and Connor will know exactly what went down last night.
Or who went down on who.
I scrape a hand across my five o’clock–shadowed jaw and eye the Keurig. Connor’s self-congratulatory, superior, I-told-you-so is the last fucking thing I need without caffeine in my system.
I start to open the cabinet next to the sink where I keep the coffee mugs, then abruptly slam it shut. I don’t want Connor to get any ideas about staying for a cup of joe, no matter how bad I’m craving a hit of caffeine right about now.
“Documents delivered. Was there something else you wanted?”
He cocks his head and raises an eyebrow. “Can’t a guy check in on his injured friend and business partner?”
“You’ve checked. I’m fine. Thanks for stopping by. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect you were hiding something.” He stands. “But best friends since second grade don’t keep secrets from each other, right?”
Wrong. Whatever is going on with me and Ainsley, I’m not ready to talk about it yet. Even with Connor.
I pat the envelope on the counter.
“I’m just in a hurry to get these papers read so I can call Alex. We’re this close—” I hold two fingers about an inch apart “—to inking a deal for a sweet space right on the strip in South Beach.”
Although I’m starting to worry that the landlord is jerking us around. Every time it looks like