Not Just Friends (Hot in the City #3) - T. Gephart Page 0,20

a little too glad I wasn’t the only one who’d been subjected to a rude awakening. “We did, but Scott Collins had other ideas. I just got off the phone with him.”

“Why are all the cute ones so dumb? You know if he just shut his mouth and didn’t say anything, I’d totally do him.” She was lying of course, but I didn’t care enough to point it out.

“You sleep with whoever you want, Rae, but I was hoping you might meet me for lunch.”

And unlike Scott, Raelle wasn’t stupid enough to think my lunch invitation was anything other than business. She sighed knowing better than to say no. “Fine, and I’ll have what you asked for by then too.”

As predicted, she didn’t need a reminder on why we were meeting. “Good, I’ll see you then. I’ll make reservations at that new Japanese place near Diablo. I’ve heard great things.”

“Send me the details. I’m going to go back to sleep. Bye.” Unlike me, Raelle could fall asleep on a park bench. All she needed to do was close her eyes and she was gone. So I had no doubt that once I’d heard that click she’d probably waited maybe four seconds before she was blissfully back in dreamland. Definitely a skill I envied.

With my plans made and no hope of crawling back in between the sheets, I decided I’d get in the shower instead. It was worth the rent I paid on my midtown apartment for the bathroom and closet space alone. The loft was mostly open plan, the interior not wasted with barriers and doors. It allowed the light to flood the apartment and make it feel bigger. Didn’t give you a lot of privacy if you had company, but considering I’d been living alone for the last few months, it was no longer an issue.

But the only exception was my huge bathroom. It was tucked away from the main living area behind a frosted glass wall. The only “room” with a door and lock, it was a hidden eutopia of white tile, mirrored surfaces, and silver fixtures.

My eyes closed as I tipped my head under the warm cascading water. The waterproof Bluetooth speaker provided the soundtrack, competing with the spray of the shower as I washed my hair and body.

It was the one place in my apartment where I refused to be stressed, the powerful jets pounding my muscles as I allowed my mind to wander. As the steam fogged up the room, I let out a slow, extended exhale.

I’d never once had sex in my bathroom despite the room being sexy as hell. Sure, Lewis had suggested it, jerking off in front of me and trying to entice me to bend. But I’d always refused, not wanting my sanctuary tainted. Guess I knew even back then that eventually our relationship would end, and I didn’t want the peace and tranquility of my shower taken from me for a cheap orgasm I could’ve given myself.

Which had me thinking . . .

I’d barely slipped my fingers between my legs when I heard my phone ringing. I hadn’t brought it into the bathroom with me—no business or stress allowed—my ringtone overriding the music on my speaker.

“Fuck,” I cursed, annoyed that for the second time that morning I’d been disappointed. It was turning into one-of-those days, and I hadn’t even had my coffee yet.

Grabbing a towel, still dripping water I sprinted to my phone which was sitting just outside the door. In a perfect world I would have ignored it, but I was still waiting to hear from the police about Lewis. And while I was fine to do the bravery thing while I was in public, I allowed myself a small amount of grace in my private space. It was the bathroom, it definitely brought out my vulnerability. And since I had no idea what he wanted when he broke into my apartment, I was hoping the NYPD might have some answers for me.

I didn’t have time to check the call ID, answering the phone before it kicked over to voicemail. “Presley Tibbs.”

“Presley, it’s Lorena. How are you this morning?”

Oh fuck, I groaned internally, knowing the call didn’t mean good things.

“Hi Lorena, I’m fine,” I lied. “How are you?”

Lorena was David Cheng’s personal assistant, which sounded much less important than it was. But the owner of Diablo didn’t do regular. He was progressive and aggressive in business, not subscribing to the traditional rules which had seen his father almost run