The ring of the doorbell shocked us both out of it.
I heard a voice on the other side of the door. “Hello?” The bell rang again. “Super!”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Max muttered.
I scrambled off his lap, suddenly mortified. Whatever happened to three hours? Meanwhile, he stood, making a quick adjustment below the belt before opening the door.
“Thanks a lot,” I heard him say. “It means a lot that you came out so soon.” I turned my face away so the man in the hall didn’t see how hot and bothered I was.
“No problem,” he said to Max. “My kid ended up getting stage fright, so we left early. Have a good one.” I heard him walk away as Max closed the door.
I wanted to die. What the hell was I thinking, humping a total stranger? A nice stranger. A hot stranger. But a stranger I had to share a floor with. Why hadn’t I learn my lessons the first time? Now I would have to avoid Josh at work and Max at home.
“Your key,” he murmured. I held my hand out, still averting my eyes, and felt the cool metal touch my palm. My whole body was burning up so much I felt like a pork chop on somebody’s barbecue.
“I should go,” I whispered, gathering up my used tissues and purse and making a quick exit.
“Hang on,” Max said, but I ignored him and rushed out.
When I got in through my front door, I locked the door behind me. I didn’t think. I just headed straight for the bedroom, threw myself on the bed and promptly passed out.
15
Max
“That was totally unexpected,” I murmured to myself, as I stared at the closed door.
The heat of her body was gone, but I could still taste the sweetness of her lips on my tongue. Her smell lingered on my shirt, flooding my senses. My cock was rock hard and aching, and my whole body burned with a raw need to slide my hand under the skirt and touch her smooth skin again. The urge to follow her to her place and finish what she started was shocking.
Wait a second…what the hell was I thinking?
The last thing in the world I needed was to fuck my neighbor. Dear God, imagine that kind of complication. No, just no. Even the idea should give me the creeps. My style was hit and run.
My antenna went up from the first moment I saw her a year ago. I knew she was trouble, and that was why I gave her a wide berth. I just didn’t know how much trouble until a few minutes ago. Damn it to hell. Why did she have to lock herself out tonight?
I exhaled. What I needed was a stiff drink.
My favorite bottle of Scotch waited on the bar cart. The first sip helped me to herd my primitive thoughts back to reality.
There was no room for relationships or commitments in my life right now. I needed to focus on business. A woman like that would be pure distraction. The kind of distraction that could drive a man crazy. I had enough on my plate. The line had to be drawn right now. She was off limits. Absolutely, no more contact with her.
The second sip helped me remember I was living in a city with an endless supply of willing women. So, he was sexy and maddeningly cute with the goddamn most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen, but she was not irreplaceable. No one was. What I needed was more women like the one I had last night. Women who didn’t make me want more than just one night with them.
I wondered uncomfortably what made me tell her about the soccer game. I’d never told anyone that story. She must be the sort of person who effortlessly tricked you into opening up and spilling cringeworthy memories.
All I had to do was keep away from her. She wouldn’t be here long. She was fighting a losing battle. I knew how these things worked. The offers were going to get crazier and crazier, and one day her magic number would come up, and she would be gone just like the rest of the people in the building. It was only a matter of time. Once she was gone I’d never see her again.
My phone buzzed. I pulled it out and frowned when I saw who it was. Rule Number One: Never give your phone number to random hook-ups. Bridget was too foxy for that though. She knew my family so she hunted my mother down and tricked her with the “I left my Grandmother’s earrings at his place” story. My unsuspecting mother gave her my number. Rule Number Two: Do not sleep with people who know your family.
“Hi, Bridget.”
“Hi!” she squealed enthusiastically. That took care of my erection. Thanks, Bridget.
“I’m busy,” I said, looking around my empty apartment. “Do you need something?”
She didn’t even pause. “You. I need you,” she purred.
I died a little inside. We’d had fun. Why did there have to be more than that? “I don’t want to be a dick, Bridget, but we’ve had this talk before.”
“I know, but there’s nothing saying we can’t have fun again, is there?” Her voice was low. She thought she was being seductive. If she knew how many times I’d heard that line, she’d cry herself to sleep.
“Actually, yes, there is. It won’t be fun for me.”
“Oh! Stop being so mean, Maximus.” I hate women who call me Maximus. I could imagine her sitting in her apartment on the other side of town, pouting while twirling a lock of her blonde hair around one finger, trying to figure out how to trap me.
“I don’t want to be an asshole, but you keep putting me in a position where I have to be.”
“Don’t get mad at me.” Her voice broke on a sob.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Women. They were all fucking nuts. I took a deep breath. “I’m not mad,” I said as calmly as I could. “You’re a beautiful girl. You have a lot to offer. There’s gotta be a lot of guys out there who would be thrilled to have you.”
I poured a second drink. It was just that kind of night.
“But I want you, Max. You’re the only guy who ever made me come like that.” She gave a girlish giggle.
I smelled bullshit but kept my thoughts to myself. “That’s a nice compliment.” I walked to the bedroom, drink in hand, sat on the bed and took off my shoes. I was supposed to meet up with friends for dinner, but I missed it while waiting for the Super to get here. I guess I was in for the night—the way my luck was running, I’d end up getting an anvil dropped on me.
“It’s the truth,” she insisted.
“I believe you,” I lied, putting my shoes away. I liked order, tidiness. In all areas of my life.
“So, why do you keep pushing me away?”
I really didn’t need this hassle. I made a mental note to remind my naïve mother never to give my phone number to any woman again even if they claimed to have left their entire jewelry collection in my bedroom.
“I’m not pushing you away. I’m just letting you know again how it is. I enjoyed my time with you, but as I told you before, I’m not in the market for anything but casual sex,” I said wearily.
“I was just hoping you would change your mind, I guess.”
“I’m sorry, Bridget.”
“Just give me a chance?” She needn’t have bothered. She didn’t have a chance in hell. The term one-timer was invented for women like her. She was jealous, clingy, needy, and stupid. Now, the sex-bomb next door. She was a whole different story. That’s the kind of women you want to make memories with. Christ, I need to stop thinking about her.
“Look-,” I began.
“Please,” she begged.
I felt like an ass, and I didn’t like feeling like an ass. No, it wasn’t my fault she couldn’t let it go. Damn my mother and her bleeding heart. “You should consider yourself lucky that you’re not in a relationship with me. I’m a dick. I’m always working. I don’t remember birthdays or anniversaries. I even forgot Christmas last year.”
“I’m sorry for you,” she blurted out.
“What?” I almost dropped my drink on the floor.
“I said, I’m sorry for you,” she yelled furiously. For the first time since I met her, she sounded like a real person instead of a wannabe Marilyn Monroe. “I’m a nice person, and I have a lot to offer, but you won’t let me into your life. I bet you me
et a lot of nice girls. You’ve, um, met at least two of my friends. And that’s just recently.”
I grimaced. Women talked too much.
“You have all these bullshit excuses for why all you can do is hook up and move on. You’ll never know what a good person I am.”
I got undressed. “I really am very busy.”
“Oh, I know you’re very busy. You’re a big deal.” The sarcasm dripped from her voice.
This was getting boring. I would give one last try for our families’ sake. “You wouldn’t be happy with me, Bridget. I wasn’t kidding when I said that. It’s not just a line.”
“You can’t be happy, either. Nobody’s happy when the closest relationship in their life is with their assistant.”
“Right well. Thanks for calling.” I had to hang up then, or else I would have said something to really piss her off. “Sorry, mother,” I muttered and blocked her number.
I walked back into the sitting room and dropped down on the sofa. I picked up the remote and thought of Mimi asking me how much the TV cost and grinned to myself.
It was strange sitting there alone when I knew she was on the other side of the floor. All I had to do was go over there and knock on the door and I could have her. Then again, there was a good chance she was puking her guts up by now. Not sexy.
I thought about the jackass who’d cheated on her. She didn’t know it, but that was a lucky escape. I raised my glass in a silent toast to the chicken shit, whoever he was for dropping her. He deserved to be tied down with a screaming brat. Idiot.
I watched some TV, but I was distracted. I couldn’t stop thinking about the chick next door. How unfortunate that she was my neighbor. Restless, I roamed my apartment. I even thought about visiting my favorite lounge, I didn’t have the heart to get dressed and go out again. Finally, I decided to turn in early. Definitely not the way I usually spent a Monday, or any night.
As I leaned over in my king size bed to turn off the bedside lamp, something funny happened. I remembered that only a wall separated me from the beauty next door and it gave me an instant erection. Her mouth was so soft and voluptuous. And that amazing ass. Round and full and…
Stop it, Max. Stop it.
I was wired and wide awake. I closed my eyes and forced myself to think of something else. With any luck, I wouldn’t see her again.
16
Mimi
My first conscious thought on waking was the most fervent wish that I could just die and get it over with. My head was throbbing like there was a woodpecker in it. I hadn’t even opened my eyes yet, but it already felt like the rays of sunshine coming through my bedroom window were trying to kill me. Why the hell hadn’t I closed the blinds? Why was drunk me so stupid?
I pulled the blanket over my head, but that wasn’t helpful since it meant having to smell my own breath, which was rank. I vaguely remembered throwing up twice during the night, and not having the will to brush my teeth. I made an opening for my breath to escape, hoping I’d at least reached the bathroom both times. I thought I had, but who knew? Maybe drunk de had decided to leave a surprise for poor, hungover me.
That was bad until I remembered my trip to Max’s apartment. A whole other level of pain hit me.
“No. No. No,” I groaned, whimpering a little from the pain in my head and in my heart. What was I thinking? Oh, right. I was thinking how hot he was, and how much I hated Josh.
What must he think of me? I could only imagine. Little snippets of our conversation came back making me cringe with shame. I was such a mess the entire time. Thank God, the Super had come when he did, or who knew where I’d be waking up—or where I would have thrown up. No way a make-out session like that one would have ended in anything but wild sex. I would have thrown up in his bed, on his body. Oh, God. It didn’t bear thinking about.
I hated wine. I would never drink wine again. Wine was poor decision juice. Bad, bad wine.
No way I could make it to work, especially with the thought of seeing Josh. When I was free from the clutches of impending death, I would have to give a lot of thought to how to move forward. In the meantime, I fumbled around for my phone, grabbed it and pulled it under the blanket with me. Dialing Tracee, I left a mumbled message for her that included something about my stomach, feeling sick, and coming in tomorrow. The less detail, the better. Only people who were lying left lengthy messages.
I decided to venture out of bed a couple of hours later, after waking for the second time. I didn’t feel much better, but I didn’t feel any worse. It was a good first step. And no nasty surprises from drunk me. An excellent second step.
Once I got moving and decided my head was not, in fact, about to fall off, horror spread through me again as my behavior with Max last night worked its way into my thoughts again. I couldn’t shake the memory of that…that kiss.
Actually, I don’t even know if you can call what happened just a kiss. Even in my state of total misery, the memory of the way his lips felt on mine was clear—and even a little bit of a turn-on.
I guess he had had a lot of practice. His technique was smooth, sexy, and so intensely masculine, he just about melted my panties clean off. I could imagine women throwing themselves at him. I didn’t want to be just another one of those women. But I was.
Because if what I did wasn’t throwing myself at him, I didn’t know what was. I held my head in my hands, sitting on the edge of my tub as I waited for it to fill.
“I climbed into his lap,” I moaned to nobody in particular. “I tried to hump him. Oh, God.”
But God wouldn’t help me. God was too busy shaking His head in disappointment. It wasn’t my fault. It was the wine’s fault. And Josh’s, since he was the reason wine and I got together in the first place.
As I soaked in silky bubbles, I imagined seeing Max him again and barely managed to keep from drowning myself. No way. I couldn’t put myself through that kind of humiliation.
“He probably thinks I’m a slut,” I muttered miserably.
Well, his opinion is probably no better than it had been before. I vaguely remembered him giving some kind of explanation that he was lost in his own thoughts most of the time, but somehow, I didn’t buy it. He was not lost in his thoughts. He was deliberately unfriendly to me, so it was not like I’d fallen far in his estimation. That was cold comfort, but it was the closest thing to comfort I had.
“Damn, Josh,” I cursed aloud.
And I had ugly cried. Ugh! Stupid me. Then I remembered that Max had tried to comfort me. He had been nice, hadn’t he? I wasn’t misremembering it. At least, I didn’t think so. I’d sure as hell never ask him face-to-face. There was only so much humiliation a girl could take.
I soaked in the tub until my skin pruned. By the time I got out, I felt a lot better—physically, at least. Mentally, on the other hand, all I could do was worry about what to say to Max when we ran into each other again. That was inevitable and I might as well prepare for it. I would thank him, of course, because he’d taken care of me. I owed him for that.
Maybe I could wear a bag over my head while I thanked him since I couldn’t imagine looking him in the eye and I was sure my face would turn tomato red. Maybe a letter! That was it. I breathed a sigh of relief.
I would write a “thank you” letter. No, I would buy a card. And I’d thank him that way and slide it under his door. No. In his mailbox. That way, I wouldn’t face humiliation if he happened to be on the other side of the door. Yes. Perfect solution.
When I walked out into the living room, my thoughts had moved from Max to the idea of breakfast. My stomach was still all sorts of messed up, thanks to the wine, but everybody who’d ever had a hangover knew that greasy food was the best solution. It didn’t help that somebody nearby was cooking something that smelled incredible.
Then, I froze in place. Wait a minute. I didn’t have any neighbors except for Max. No way could I smell cooking smells from other buildings. I tiptoed to the front door, sniffing the air. Sure enough, the smell got
stronger the closer I got. What the heck?
I peered out the peephole, but the hallway was empty. Finally, I dared open the door, and what I found made my mouth drop open in surprise. On the floor, in a box, was a mouth-wateringly good hangover-breakfast-in-a bun that the Deli nearby specializes in, a liter bottle of water and a large cup of coffee.
I looked up and down the hall, but of course, Max was nowhere to be found. The big bun and the coffee were still hot, too. Hmmm…I wondered how he knew. My bath did make a horrible glugging sound whenever I unplugged it.
17
Mimi
The next day I bought a cute thank you card with a bashful bear holding a bunch of flowers on it and dropped it into his mailbox. I never heard or saw him. I was also gratified to note there were no more sexual noises coming from the other side of the wall. He had either moved his bed, or he hadn’t brought anyone home. For reasons unknown, I found myself hoping it was the second option.
The first day back at work was the hardest, but I realized all I had to do to carry on as normal was keep away from Josh altogether. I found I had a great talent for it. In fact, it was quite amazing how many excuses I came up with to avoid him. I’d even started wearing headphones at my desk, just so the sound of his voice didn’t turn my stomach. What a shame I couldn’t get paid for avoiding Josh.
Incredible to think that there was a time when I was a master at inventing reasons to visit his office. How much effort I used to put into it. Dropping off papers, printing out reports rather than emailing them, even carrying random file folders into his lair just so I’d have an excuse if anybody saw me walking in.
Every time it had gotten to be a little much throughout the week, I’d remind myself that brunch at Megan’s was only days away. It would just be the two of us and a couple of her friends from work. Nice girls who sort of drifted in and out of our weekly tradition depending on their plans. It was one of my constants, a way to decompress after a long week. And if there had ever been a long one, this was it.
Dear Neighbor Page 5
