by Conn, Claudy
“Sure, but shouldn’t I come it? Your AC’s escaping.”
“Not to worry.” She felt bad about being rude as she left him to hurry up the hall toward her bedroom, but in this instance it couldn’t be helped. She didn’t dare draw attention to the corner of her living room where her TV was. Thankfully, the flat screen was against the back wall so he’d not only have to come into her place, he’d have to walk around the door to see it. A break for the weak-side. Wait…
Lumpy chocolate splat. Lumpy chocolate spat. Lumpy chocolate splat, sounded off in her head like that kid doing the Red-Rum chant in The Shining.
“Careful,” he said when she pretended to trip and fell against the wall, trying to walk backward in order to hide the mess.
Real smooth, Sid.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded, but continued to do the new strut, titled “the smear”, with her back against the drywall so he wouldn’t see the crusted chocolate as she made her way to her bedroom. Why did she drink that syrup right out of the jar tonight? You needed sweet after the bag of salt and vinegar chips you scarfed down, remember?
She groaned. Right.
With her room in sight, she pushed off the wall and practically dove in. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. You got this. She exhaled slowly and let her lids flutter open until she caught sight of her purse. Normally she loved her big bag, but not tonight. It was the enemy as time was of the essence. She dumped the whole thing upside down on the bed and shook out the contents. Spying the huge pink flamingo key ring she snatched it up and rushed to the entrance.
“I’ll just be a minute,” she called and held up the enameled bird. “You’re three A?”
Why she bothered to ask was a mystery. Riker had to be three A. He rented the penthouse apartment right over her unit. It was the only top-floor condo on this side of the building. So large it spanned the distance over the two units on either side of hers as well.
“Yes.”
When that smoky baritone voice reached her she shivered. The sound did awesome things to her insides. Her pulse raced and she refused to believe it was the sugar. No—she bit her lip as she fought to get his key loose without breaking a nail—it was his presence that had her all fired up. One stealthy glance toward the front door and she wished just maybe he’d stick around longer than a mere few hours. The complex always seemed more alive and exciting when he was in residence.
What was she thinking? He liked leggy blondes with beach ball breasts and perfectly vacant stares. She couldn’t she compete with that. She had regular sized knockers and an M. Ed from Florida State University. Kind of hard to pull off busty or stupid without expensive medical procedures. Did they even do lobotomies anymore?
“Do you need some help?” Riker saw her struggling with the keys and made the offer. He was dog-tired and still sweating his ass off even though the cooler air from her place breezed over him. Her AC was nowhere near as cold as he kept his and just thinking about that made him anxious to get upstairs where he knew his was cranking. Her place smelled great though. Orange and cinnamon. Nice—he sniffed—hell, the scent reminded him of Christmas and home. Memories the unseasonably warm weather lately had killed. “Do you want me to see if I can do it?”
“No, I’ve got it. I’ll just be a second.”
He took another deep breath, hoping to recapture that little bit of nostalgia when he spotted her dining room chandelier. It wasn’t so much the hanging light itself, but the things dangling off it. Angels. And not the ethereal kind either. There was a fat one holding a harp, a skinny one wearing glasses and when he saw the mop-headed blonde one in the red and yellow poke-a-dot bikini he found himself smiling. He liked the winged chicks. Shifting, he tilted his head to get a better look at Sidney Capp. The few tenants he’d spoken to around here always referred to her as a “sweetheart”. He thought it was because she taught kindergarten, but maybe not. There was something about her. He recalled how squirrely she’d been at the door and now watching as she fought with the keys, he decided maybe she was much the same as those ornaments. Quirky. Yeah, and probably an angel too. That sobered him right up.
Angels were off his list. He’d been there and done that and it hadn’t panned out for anyone. Especially him. He rolled his shoulders and shifted to turn away when he caught an image out of the corner of his eye. At first glance he’d though it was a graphic picture hanging on the wall, but then when he looked closer he realized it was a mirror. A mirror on the wall that reflected the image from—get the fuck out here—her TV. Miss quiet and keeps to herself kindergarten teacher—the woman he’d just determined to be a quirky angel— watches porn?
He eased the door opened wider and peered between the wall and the frame. Yessiree, she was watching naughty all right. Hardcore shit if the frozen image on the screen was any indication. Damn, that young woman was swallowing some pretty impressive—
“I got it. Oh, and I’ve also included a key to the pool gate. I know how much you like to do your twenty laps in the middle of the night when you can’t…”
Watching porn wasn’t her only form of late night entertainment it would seem. “Can’t?” He took the keys from her and while he waited for her to finish that sentence which wasn’t going to end well for her, he gave her the once over.
She was cute. Really cute with big eyes, pert little nose and nice mouth. Lips that were wide and full which only made him think about the image on her TV.
“Is that my phone?” He almost laughed. The comical way she cocked an ear, twisting back toward the master bedroom, but keeping her eyes on him, was priceless. “Phooey, it is—”
“I don’t hear anything.”
“Oh,” She leaned back farther and almost fell. “Yes, I hear it vibrating in the bedroom.”
He couldn’t contain his grin now. Judging from the porn, she might not be an angel but she was definitely quirky in an adorable way. “Are you sure it’s your phone?”
“Yup, gotta go. Thanks for stopping by.”
Riker stared at the door for a good thirty seconds before he realized she’d slammed it in his face. And there was nothing adorable about that. Intriguing? Sure. Interesting? Moderately. A fucking turn-on? Absolutely. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been shut out by a woman. He shook his head and closed his fist around the keys. Her dismissing him shouldn’t matter, but it did.
He was halfway up the stairs to the third floor when the raw image on her TV came to mind. Did the little kindergarten teacher watch skin flicks for real, or was it a fluke? A bad pause in an erotic romance of some kind?
Tumbling his apartment deadbolt, he decided. He’d seen plenty of R rated movies and nary had a one highlighted that kind of talent. That kind of action was triple X all the way. He wasn’t going to get his hopes up though. She probably had cable and stumbled on that channel by accident.
Once inside, he kicked off his shoes and went directly to the sink to wash his hands. He still had no idea what the hell had been on that rock. Right now he didn’t want to know. With that mess taken care of he grabbed an iced bottle of water out of the fridge and headed to his room. Bed was going to feel good tonight. Tomorrow he’d worry about quirky Sidney with her wide eyes and vibrating phone.
As usual, he peeled off his clothes and tossed each item into the hamper before he slid naked between the sheets. He closed his eyes thinking he hadn’t been wrong. Bed felt especially good tonight. Yeah.
“Oh, God. Harder. Oh baby, you rock my world. Yes. Faster. Ahhhhh…”
His eyes snapped open and he scowled. “Damn, don’t you guys ever take a weekend off?”
He was all for sex, yet their resident randy couple unfailingly kept him up Friday and Saturday nights. Not only was she a screamer, he was talker and they both were into role playing. Pretty cheesy role-playing if you asked him. This was why most nights when they “had at it” he’d head down to the pool. Their sex played out like a bad porno.
And when that came to him he s
hot straight up. “Son of a bitch. No way.”
This time he really listened while he tried to determine the logistics. Creating a mental floor plan he was shocked. His large penthouse condo ran the length of all three one-bedrooms below and now that he examined the virtual footprint he realized Sidney’s living room was right under his master bedroom.
All these nights. All the blaming and covert glaring at that middle-aged couple in unit two A. Damn.
He fell back in the bed and stared at the ceiling. So, it was adorable, wide-eyed Sidney keeping him up at night. Well, well, well. The little school teacher really did have a naughty side. This changed everything. Intrigued? Check. Interested? Check. Turn-on? Check, check.
She’s an angel…
Right, maybe if she hadn’t mentally stripped him when she first opened that door, he’d have been more convinced about that fact. But she did slam the door in his face so he should just leave it at that. Who was he kidding? That was the very reason he was burning to get to know her better. And what impeccable timing to do so, as they’d have this cozy little complex all to themselves for the weekend. With this unexpected turn, he was beginning to think his forced sabbatical from the jobsite might not be as bad as he’d originally thought.
“Harder. Oh, Doctor, you can examine me anytime. Faster. Oh, yes, the gloves…”
Scratch might not be bad. This was more like fantastic. He’d be sure to thank the guys for making him take a few extra days off for R & R before the holidays. Clearly they were right and he’d been working too hard. How else had he missed the little hottie literally underneath him for the past six months?
Suddenly the muffled talking and moaning stopped and one would have thought he’d be happy about it. At least he could get some shut-eye, but it wasn’t to be. Strangely his semi-hard state went to full-flag alert with the continuing silence because now all his thoughts were on what she was doing down there if she wasn’t watching TV.
He groaned.
He knew what she was doing.
Sleep eluded him. Damn.
Chapter Two
Sidney watched the suds tumble and slide through the circle of glass in the front of the washing machine. Riveting. Only thing better would be recalling what a complete and utter ass she’d made of herself last night. Riker probably thought she was a stalker or something. Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut about his middle of the night pool visits?
This was one time she was grateful he was MIA over the weekends. Even when he was in residence he had a habit of leaving early and coming home late, so there were no worries that she’d have to face him today.
“Come on.” She tapped the glass and growled, “not another blasted rinse.” She’d been waiting for the washer to finish up with the second half of her sheets.
By her calculation this meant five more minutes to go. Drat. She looked around for a place to sit and came up empty as her usual seat, the counter, was covered with her neatly separated piles of fluffy versus non-fluffy loads.
She eyed a spot on the terrazzo floor. Nope, probably cool, but also dirty. Placing a palm on the dryer she winced. Too hot. That left only the washer. Meh, what the hell? She hopped up and made herself comfortable. With hands stuffed under her thighs and feet swinging in time with the rinse chug, she looked around the room. It seemed different from this vantage point. Bigger somehow and when she spotted the newspaper clipping on the bulletin board about some local celebrity wrestler, she couldn’t help thinking of Riker.
Unlike the short, bulldog looking bruiser in the article, Riker was tall and had lean muscle mass. Thick, but not too thick. The kind of body an artist would want to sculpt. Heck, if he’d pose for her she’d get out the Play-Doh and give it a whirl.
The idea had merit, she concluded, when the wash cycle changed. Now the heady rhythm caused her to close her eyes and drop her head back.
“Nice.” Relaxing her shoulders, she thought about what kind of perfect man-sculpture she’d create using him as her model. With his rugged features and wide back? Those hard biceps, bulging and straining, begging for a woman to cling to them?
“Mmm…” Damn, the steady vibrations penetrating her lower half felt pretty good. Really good, she decided as she wiggled her butt and moved her hands out from underneath her to get better contact.
“Oh, yeah…” She shifted, licking her lips as she thought about digging her nails in his chest. Pectorals molded so beautifully and abs? God, a real artist would have field day replicating that intricate basket-weave pattern. That’s exactly what it looked like. Hadn’t she’d memorized every contour, every rope-like sinew, during those midnight swims of his?
The recall made her instantly restless and she rubbed herself against the smooth metal a little harder. The vibrations became steadier. Rocking her in a very, very, good way. So sultry, all she could do was go with it. Real, as in really, good…
“Sidney, what are you doing?”
She jerked to attention so hard she nearly got whiplash. “Hey! You scared the bejesus out of me.”
He didn’t apologize. Nor did he speak. He just stared right at her and boy, was he tall. She gazed directly into his glittering eyes. Right. No wilting off the machine to melt at his feet. He expected an answer. Now, what could she say? She couldn’t very well say “I was riding the spin cycle while fantasizing about you,” could she?
Best to keep it simple. Direct and to the point. “Laundry.”
His lopsided grin made her stomach do flip-flops that turned to full rolling somersaults when he drawled, “I can see that darlin’. I only ask because you’re looking a little flushed.”
“It’s the, um,” she hiked a thumb to her right, “dryer heat. Gets me all the time.”
That to-die-for grin slid up into a devilish smile. “I bet it does. How long are you going to be?”
When he shoved his hands into his pockets she nearly sighed out loud. His shoulder muscles bunched, his biceps flexed and she just knew underneath his black T-shirt those abs of his would be weaving a fine pattern.
Wait, she needed to stay focused and not on him. Laundry. Think laundry. She shook her hair behind her shoulders and pointed to the piles at his back, counting, “One, two, three…I’d say I’ll be done by lunchtime.”
The second he spun around she wanted to die. Great. Now he was eyeing her clothes. Good thing she always buried her underwear at the bottom.
“You missed one.”
When he bent and scooped an item off the floor she was sure she was going to die. She closed her eyes and repeated the silent mantra, please let it be a shirt. A shirt. A shirt. Over and over again.
“Pretty. What pile?”
Gingerly, she cracked a lid prepared to die right on the washer if he had a pair of her tightie whites in hand. If he did, she swore she’d hold her breath until she expired. Better to die the way she wanted to than out of embarrassment, so when she spied her lace camisole swinging from his finger, she blew out a breath.
“Non-fuzzy.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The first load on the left.”
He tossed the lace on the pile and turned back to her. “So you’ll be done by noon?”
“Yes.”
Instantly the room she’d thought seemed bigger only a few moments ago was feeling small. Tiny. Suffocating. Prison-ish, if she were being truthful. Because he was back to examining her with those stunning brown eyes. They were the color of burnt sienna with brilliant flecks of deep rich gold.
“Great. I’d like to make up for disturbing you last night.” The smile he flashed could have lit up a football stadium, “I thought I could take you out to lunch.”
“No.”
He was as surprised as she was with that clip answer. Doing a double take, he frowned, “No?”
Good lord, her heart hammered against her rib cage like the woodpecker drilling bark in that animal segment she’d showed her class last week. She was sure her face was redder now than when she’d been heated befor
e. “I-I mean I have to stay on site. You know, in case a pipe bursts or someone else needs to be let into their unit. What if there’s a delivery? I promised Martha I’d stay put.”
He scrutinized her for a moment and then sighed. “I see. You really take your babysitting jobs seriously. Another time then?”
Another time. Another time? There wouldn’t be another time, she was sure of it. He was six months into his seven month lease. Once he was done with his home remodel she knew he was moving out. At least that’s what the scuttlebutt pointed to. She’d likely never see him again. A silent bell tinged in her head. It was go time. Now or never, as Monday her parents would be back from the Keys to send her on one guilt trip after another. Especially since she’d turned Ken down.
Oh no, he was leaving. He was— “Wait, why don’t I make lunch? We could have it down by the pool under the blue umbrella.”
Her eyes were glued to his butt. Man, he had a fine ass and a damn fine—eek—she gasped and looked up because package, package, package was screaming in her brain when he’d spun around and she’d been left staring at his crotch.
“Why the blue one?”
“What?” She was so relieved he didn’t call her on her ogling him she wasn’t paying attention.
“Why that umbrella?”
“Oh, it’s the only one that stays fully open.”
“Hm.” He tilted his head as if he was considering something. She knew what it was the moment he came to her and asked, “If I let you handle lunch how would that be me making up for bothering you last night?”
“You weren’t bothering me.”
“I’m sure I interrupted something. You were probably in the middle of a great movie.”
“Movie? No, I don’t watch much TV.” She shifted forward to jump down only he didn’t step back to give her room like she expected him to. Shooting a look up, she waited.
“Here, let me help you down, darlin’.”
She would have said the way he pronounced that endearment got her all hot and tingly but it wasn’t. Those feelings came when he lifted her off the machine and moved in close. Real close to crowd her so she was forced to slide down the length of his hard body until her toes reached the floor. That was when she decided this is what had her positively burning up inside.
