by Vi Keeland
“You can come in, you know.” I was still huddled near the door.
“Thanks. I’m good.”
“Just give me one minute and I’ll get you something to wear. My kid sister is coming to stay with me tomorrow, and I ran out to get her Ben & Jerry’s Hazed and Confused.”
I smiled. “That’s sweet.”
“Not really. I have an ulterior motive. Put this crap in a bowl and it shuts her up for a solid ten minutes. She’s fifteen.” Again, the twitch at the corner of his mouth threatened. For some reason, all that smile foreplay made me anxious to see the real thing.
“Hazed and Confused is not crap,” I said defending my good friends, Ben and Jerry.
“You know how much sugar is in there?”
“Enough to make it taste delicious.”
“I wouldn’t know. Don’t eat ice cream.”
My eyes went wide. “Just when I was beginning to calm down and trust you, you have to go and say something scary like that?”
Another twitch, followed by a headshake and low chuckle.
“What do you do after a breakup if you don’t eat ice cream?”
Smith shrugged. “I workout, I guess.”
“Looks like you’ve been through a lot of breakups lately.” I thought I’d mumbled it to myself, but apparently not.
His eyebrows shot up.
The honesty of the conversation had me beginning to feel like myself. Unfortunately, myself lacks a filter. “Sorry. Can’t help but notice. I mean you’re walking around with no shirt on and all. Showoff.”
A flush of pleasure grazed me as the full smile finally made its appearance. And what a smile it was. Perfect teeth, full lips that curved up toward his deep blue eyes…and cavernous dimples. Damn. I wonder if he groans when…
Smith arched an eyebrow. “I’ve seen you with less on, don’t think you’ve seen a breakup in years.”
I definitely liked that compliment. At least someone got to appreciate the four hundred dollars I’d dropped for the lingerie I was sporting beneath this oversized t-shirt.
But then I remembered that he was wrong. I had seen a breakup recently. All of about ten minutes ago. “Actually, my last breakup was only about ten minutes ago.”
Smith nodded empathetically—the puzzle piece he’d been trying to figure out finally fell into place. Then he reached back into the freezer he’d just closed and pulled out his sister’s ice cream, spooning me a heaping bowl. Smirking, he slid it in my direction across the table with a spoon. “Sit. Eat.”
“What about your sister?”
“She’ll chew my ear off, but she’ll live.”
I sighed. And then sat and grabbed the bowl. After the night I’d had so far, I really needed it.
Smith leaned back against the kitchen counter, arms folded over his ridiculously muscular chest, and watched me eat. He actually looked like he was enjoying himself.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asked cautiously.
“Not really.”
He nodded.
“Why would a guy take me out—to a half dozen expensive dinners and not try anything on me? And then screw someone else when I come over to initiate the first move?” Guess I changed my mind and really did want to talk about it after all.
“Sounds like the guy you are seeing is an asshole.”
“The guy I was seeing,” I corrected him.
“Sounds like the guy you were seeing is an asshole.”
“Too bad I didn’t figure that out until I humiliated myself.” I shoveled another spoon full of heavenly breakup solace into my mouth.
“You have nothing to be humiliated about. I saw what you looked like. Totally his loss.”
Heat flushed on my face.
“Thanks. But I just don’t get it. Why take me out and then sleep with some other woman? You’re a guy, what was he thinking?”
“I’m nothing like him.”
“Do you know Evan?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know you’re nothing like him?”
“Because you wouldn’t have left my apartment for three days, you walk in like that.”
Ohhhhh. Good answer. I shook my head, tried to conceal my smile, and dug my spoon in deep again.
“I need to stop dating people I meet at work. It never works out.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a lawyer. He was opposing counsel on a case I litigated.”
“Lawyer, huh?” I suspected a hint of disappointment in his voice.
“You have a problem with lawyers?”
“Not at all.” He shrugged. “But maybe you intimidated him.”
“Why would you say that?”
“You must have a mirror, sweetheart. That shouldn’t be too hard to figure out. Makes it easier on a man when he’s prettier, smarter or more successful.”
“That’s archaic.”
He shrugs. “Maybe. Doesn’t mean it’s not true. Woman like you, takes a man with confidence.”
“Not that I’m defending him, because I really want to run him over with my car right now. And then back up, and run him over again. But, Evan is confident. I’ve been on the other side of he courtroom.”
“That’s work. Makes it easier to forget you’re a woman.”
“What are you, the Dear Abby of the boxing world?”
“Just call ‘em like I see him. Whatever his reasons. Your ex is an idiot. He could be vibrating my walls with a woman who’s the whole package.”
A flutter in my stomach took me by surprise. “Well, for a man who’s got it all figured out, I don’t see any signs of a woman around.” I look around at the drab colors of his kitchen. Most definitely a bachelor pad.
“I don’t date when I train.”
“Why not?”
“I like to keep focus.”
“How long do you train for?”
“A few months. Next fight is in two weeks.”
“Sounds like your dry spell is almost as long as mine,” I mumbled.
He arched an eyebrow, surprised at my admission. “Been a while?”
“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with a complete stranger. But, yes, you can say that, it’s been a while.”
“I’m not a stranger. I’ve already seen your ass. Usually takes me at least dinner before I get that much.” He winked.
I rolled my eyes, but I was actually enjoying myself. “Don’t you…ya know…get frustrated sometimes abstaining for months?”
“Frustration is good for a fighter. Allows you to channel your energy somewhere else.”
“Perhaps I need to take up kick boxing.”
“No vibrator?” he asked as casually as if he’d asked the time.
My face flushed.
“You’re blushing.”
“I am not.”
“So that’s not pink on your face?”
“No. It’s not.” And I wasn’t lying, by then it had to be a crimson shade of red.
I finished the ice cream and walked the empty bowl to the sink. I felt his eyes on me the entire time that I washed the dish. Needing more time for the flush in my face to subside, the bowl was really clean when I was done with it.
He watched me with an intensity that made me fidget. Men didn’t tend to make me fidget. My mother made me fidget when she looked at me…because she was the one person who could always see right though whatever fancy façade I was showing to other people.
I folded my arms over my chest, mimicking his position and caught his eye. “Yes, I have a vibrator. But it’s not the same.”
“Men all over the world would be glad to hear that.”
His comment made me smile.
Until I heard it.
The banging.
On the wall.
Coming from the apartment next to Smith.
Evan’s apartment.
It was light, but constant, the squeak of the bed joined in a minute later as Smith and I stared at each other.
Then came the moaning. From
her. The moaner.
It was nice to know he didn’t waste too much time thinking about me after I’d run out of his apartment. After all, I’d interrupted their shower, so they likely had business to attend to.
“Oh Evan.” The sound came through the wall loud and clear.
Smith and I stared at each other.
It got louder. “Oh Evan.”
The quirk at the corner of his lip was back. The entire night had been laughable, but Smith was trying hard to keep a straight face for my benefit.
The first overt laugh that came was mine. It started out as a giggle. Then Smith joined in. A deep, gorgeous, guttural sound that made me really smile. And then our laughter turned to a fit of hysterics. Through the intermittent Oh Evan, the two of us cracked up for a solid ten minutes.
Honestly, it was the relief I needed. Okay, so maybe not the relief I needed. But it was what I needed at that moment in time.
“He sorta fucks like a rabbit,” Smith said and we both cracked up all over again.
A little while later, Smith gave me a shirt and sweatpants. I promised to return them, but he told me it wasn’t necessary. I was pretty sure I was going to sleep in them and not wash them for a long time to come anyway. They smelled like him. And I liked him. I’d have liked him even if he didn’t have a drool worthy body and literally give me the shirt off his back.
“Thank you. For everything.” I reached on my tippy toes and kissed his cheek.
“Anytime you want to run over in a black lace outfit like that, my door is always open,” he smiled, hanging on to the open door frame waiting for me to walk away. Oddly, I found it difficult to do.
***
It took a lot less time to get over Evan than I thought it would. Sure, I replayed that night over and over for the last few weeks. But each day I found myself thinking about the embarrassment of Evan less and less, and Evan’s ridiculously sexy neighbor Smith more and more.
Today I saw Evan in Court. I’d ignored the texts he sent me every day since that night. Not even bothering to dignify any of his bullshit with an answer. Although my pride ached, I realized I’d sold myself short with Evan Little. His resume may have been everything I wanted, but I was willing to settle even though the spark obviously hadn’t been there.
I would definitely not be making that mistake twice. I’d spent less than an hour with Smith, yet he’d opened up my eyes so much. I wanted a man who made me feel. One who would buy his sister’s favorite ice cream in one minute, and be perfectly comfortable talking about my vibrator the next. A man who would give me the shirt off his back.
I’m usually not a stalker…really, I’m not. But curiosity got the best of me. With Google there wasn’t much you couldn’t learn about people nowadays. Especially one that was somewhat in the public eye like Smith was. When he said he was a boxer, he failed to mention that he was on his way to a championship fight. If he was victorious in his next fight, he’d have a shot at the middle-weight championship. It seemed like a pretty big deal, though I’d never watched a real fight. My boxing knowledge was limited to Rocky’s one through four.
The timing might’ve been absolutely ludicrous, but I decided I wasn’t going to let one bad experience sour me forever. No, I was a fighter. Just like Smith. I was also still incredibly in need of getting laid.
So I pulled up my big girl panties. Now that would be a metaphor, seeing as I wasn’t wearing any, and got right back on the horse. That one, I’m hoping isn’t a metaphor so much.
The elevator chimed as it glided to a slow stop on the twenty-second floor. It was almost ten in the evening. Smith’s fight had been at three, I’d hoped he would be home by now. Hopefully alone at home. Because I just couldn’t go through that a second time.
A feeling of déjà vu settled in as I knocked on the door. The hall was quiet; the only sound my labored breathing. What if I’d misread the entire evening that night? It wasn’t like I was in a stable frame of mind or anything.
I knocked.
And waited.
Nothing.
My knuckles rapped a louder, more forceful, second knock.
But still nothing.
Deflated, I turned to walk away.
I put one foot in front of the other and then stopped in my tracks. I had to give it one last try. I reached back for the doorknob, pleasantly surprised when it turned.
“Smith?” I said quietly into the dark room. I was just about to turn around when the sound of brisk rain caught my attention. It couldn’t happen to me twice, could it?
I steadied myself and took a deep breath, untying the belt. I let my new long raincoat fall to the ground. Wearing only five inch red stilettos, I took the seven long strides to the bathroom.
The door was cracked open.
“Smith?”
“It’s about damn time.” The sexy low voice rumbled from the shower. “I waited two weeks, now get that sexy ass in here.”
He didn’t have to ask twice.
We spent the entire night ravishing each other’s bodies. There was no first, sweet, pensive kiss that built into a fire. From the moment we touched, flames of passion engulfed both of us. He wrapped my long hair around his fist and yanked my mouth to exactly where he wanted it. It couldn’t have been more perfect.
We went at it long and hard, spending hours releasing months of frustration. Both of us fully sated when we finally fell asleep with morning sunlight streaming through the window.
The next afternoon started the same way we had left off, with Smith inside of me. I’d barely woken when I felt him nudging at my entrance again. Neither one of us, it seemed, could get enough.
“Come on, let me take you out to dinner,” he said when my stomach growled in the late afternoon.
“Shouldn’t you have bought me dinner before I let you have your way with me?” I teased.
“Backwards seems to work for us. I saw your ass before I saw your face. It only makes sense to be inside of you before we shared a meal.” He swatted my ass and pulled off the sheet as he leaped from the bed.
Ten minutes later we were dressed, me in yet another of his t-shirts and shorts. It wasn’t the most attractive look, but the smile on my face matched perfectly.
“Hang on a second, I forgot my phone,” I said, turning back into the apartment. I heard voices mumbling as I searched around the bedroom for where it had fallen.
“Man. I’m jealous. My walls were shaking all night.” I froze at the sound of Evan’s voice.
After taking a deep breath, I pulled open the door and watched Evan’s face falter when he caught sight of me.
“You should be jealous.” Smith slung his arm around my shoulder. “You’ll never know what you missed, asshole.”
★★★
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BOSSMAN
THE #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER
The first time I met Chase Parker, I didn't exactly make a good impression.
I was hiding in the bathroom hallway of a restaurant, leaving a message for my best friend to save me from my awful date.
He overheard and told me I was a bitch, then proceeded to offer me some dating advice.
So I told him to mind his own damn business―his own tall, gorgeous, full-of-himself damn business―and went back to my miserable date.
When he walked by my table, he smirked, and I watched his arrogant, sexy ass walk back to his date.
I couldn't help but sneak hidden glances at the condescending jerk on the other side of the room. Of course, he caught me on more than one occasion, and winked.
When the gorgeous stranger and his equally hot date suddenly appeared at our table, I thought he was going to rat me out.
But instead, he pretended we knew each other and joined us―telling elaborate, embarrassing stories about our fake childhood.
My date suddenly went from boring to bizarrely exciting.
When it was over and we parted ways, I thought about him more than I would
ever admit, even though I knew I'd never see him again.
I mean, what were the chances I'd run into him again in a city with eight million people? Then again...
What were the chances a month later he'd wind up being my new sexy boss?
EGOMANIAC
The night I met Drew Jagger, he'd just broken into my new Park Avenue office.
I dialed 9-1-1 before proceeding to attack him with my fancy new Krav Maga skills.
He quickly restrained me, then chuckled, finding my attempted assault amusing.
Of course, my intruder had to be arrogant.
Only, turned out, he wasn't an intruder at all.
Drew was the rightful occupant of my new office. He'd been on vacation while his posh space was renovated.
Which was how a scammer got away with leasing me office space that wasn't really available for rent.
I was swindled out of ten grand.
The next day, after hours at the police station, Drew took pity on me and made me an offer I couldn't refuse. In exchange for answering his phones while his secretary was out, he'd let me stay until I found a new place.
I probably should have acted grateful and kept my mouth shut when I overheard the advice he was spewing to his clients. But I couldn't help giving him a piece of my mind.
I never expected my body to react every time we argued. Especially when that was all we seemed to be able to do.
The two of us were complete opposites. Drew was a bitter, angry, gorgeous-as-all-hell, destroyer of relationships. And my job was to help people save their marriages.
The only thing the two of us had in common was the space we were sharing.
And an attraction that was getting harder to deny by the day.
THE NAKED TRUTH
It was just a typical Monday.
Until the big boss asked me to make the pitch for a prospective new client.
