3
Eliza woke with a start. Her dreams had been a jumble of erotic images, all coalescing with bright blue eyes, and a distinct urge for male hands on her—and not just any hands. The lights in her room still blazed, but beyond the window, the sky was black as pitch. Her stomach growled and she wondered at the time. A small alarm clock nestled on the night stand read one fifteen.
Untangling her legs from the robe, she scooted off the bed, heading into the bathroom. One glance in the mirror and she groaned. Her mascara had smudged into owl eyes, her hair was tangled and disheveled, resembling a bird's nest. There was only one remedy for her appearance. She needed a shower, pronto. And if she was still hungry after that, maybe she'd invade Cameron's kitchen for a snack.
His housekeeper had
