His skin was amazing, Amanda thought as she took in the dark lashes brushing those cheeks. She could spend all day looking at him and another night as well. Too bad she had to be at work in exactly ninety minutes. She didn’t need to look at her phone to see what time it was. Amanda woke up every single morning twenty minutes before her alarm. Call it peak readiness. She took pride in her work and the lessons both her parents had taught her. On time was late. And now, she was definitely going to be late.

Okay. First thing, extract yourself from the bed without waking Sam up. Then flee from his hotel room before you have a chance to exchange another word. They’d agreed, no names. As if she didn’t know who he was, but when he’d asked her name in the middle of her enthusiastic rendition of the cha-cha slide, she’d played it cool.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you. I’m dancing,” she’d said. He’d laughed. They’d danced some more and more, until it was time to go their separate ways. Or so she’d thought. It wasn’t until she’d gotten off the elevator and found him waiting right where he said he’d be, right outside of room 1020, that she’d realized this thing between them was actually happening. No, it wasn’t until he’d asked if it was okay if he kissed her, that he’d been wanting to all night, ever since she’d made that crack about doing the breaststroke through a chocolate fountain. (Listen, it was her first night out in almost six months and some very nice woman named Lisa had done a great job on her makeup. She was feeling a little peppy and loose.)

That kiss though, the soft slowness of it that had somehow managed to work its way through the pulsing excitement of the night and of Sam’s Oscar win, she’d felt something in that kiss. It had been the only reason she’d shimmied out of the sparkling gold and silver romper that she’d scored from the Forever 21 plus-size section. The only reason she’d been glad she was still carrying the emergency condoms she always did on her boss’s behalf. That kiss had only been proof that Sam Pleasant knew exactly how to treat a woman. He wasn’t too bad at the sex part either.

But none of that mattered now, because she had to be standing at the foot of her boss’s bed in exactly eighty-seven minutes.

Amanda glanced toward the floor and calculated just how loud of a thud she’d make if she rolled off the bed. Her mental math told her that would be the quickest way to wake Sam up. Slow and easy would be the way to go.