Like this morning.
Yeah, still not wearing any clothes.
I’ve just gotten out of the shower, and padded out to the kitchen to make myself some coffee. It’s the middle of June, at the beginning of what looks like it’s going to be a long, hot summer. Already this morning, it’s feeling pretty steamy, even inside. But I’m loathe to put on the air conditioner just yet, preferring to keep the windows open as long as I can stand it.
So, I’m basically drip-drying as I wander around the house, which isn’t a problem because the condo is on the second floor. It’s a corner unit, too, which means that there’s only one neighboring unit next door. That place has been empty for months, too, which gives me even more privacy. On the other three sides, trees obscure the view through the windows and the balcony. It’s sort of like living in a tree house, and I love the feeling of seclusion it gives me.
Except today.
As I stand in the kitchen, I decide it’s too hot for my usual cup of coffee, and decide to go for the iced brew I keep in the fridge instead. As I’m pouring the cold coffee over ice in a tall glass, I hear the murmur of voices that sound like they might be coming from the condo next door. Frowning, I glance up toward the wall our units share. From Franklin, I know that the owner of the condo, an elderly lady named Mrs. McGregor, died a few months back. I haven’t seen a “for sale” sign go up in front of the building, though, or any evidence the place has gone on the market recently.
Maybe whoever is in charge of Mrs. McGregor’s estate is finally selling the place, I think as I take my iced coffee out into the living room.
And promptly drop it onto the hardwood floor with a shriek when a pair of vivid blue eyes meet mine.
“Damn,” the owner of the eyes says, as they travel slowly down my body and up again. “This is one hell of a welcome wagon.”
2
Knox
I wasn’t so sure this condo complex was gonna be a great fit for me at first. At first glance, it looks like the place might be filled with a bunch of cranky retirees, who probably don’t like loud parties or rowdy football players.
I have to say, though, the view from the balcony is pretty damn good.
Just last week, I signed a six-month lease on this condo, which the realtor for the Springville Rockets found for me before I got to town. The Rockets just signed me on as a starting wide receiver for the team. I moved here from Atlanta, where I was born and raised, and played football there for four and a half years in college. I got drafted to Carolina for four years after that, then signed on with the Rockets when they made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.
I didn’t have a lot of time to come up to Springville to check out places to live before making the move. So, I ended up choosing this place mostly sight unseen, except for a few photos sent over email, and the assurance of the realtor that it was a nice place. It’s definitely good enough for now — at least until I get to know Springville better and can look around for someplace to buy. The only problem is that when the movers showed up today with the van full of my stuff, they figured out pretty quickly that the narrow front stairwell wasn’t going to accommodate my huge leather couch.
Pete, one of the movers, suggests we try to haul it up through a window or something. He and I and the other guy, whose name is Matty, are standing on the large balcony that stretches from the unit I’m renting to the one next to it. The two of them are arguing about whether the railing is strong enough to hold the couch, so I wander over toward the open French doors of the condo next door and happen to glance in.
And come face to face with a red-headed, green-eyed beauty.
Naked and glorious for all the world to see.
Well, for me to see, that is. And believe me, it is glorious. My dick instantly rises to attention at the sight of her there, and gets hard so fast it almost hurts.
Full, lush breasts, the nipples rosy pink, standing at attention as my eyes devour them, my mouth almost watering to taste them. Creamy, smooth skin. A petite waist leading to curvy hips, and a round, pert ass that makes me ache to sink my fingers into the flesh and pull her onto my hard, waiting cock.
The need to fuck her hits me almost physically. It’s so immediate and strong, it makes me think of the force of being tackled from head-on. Jesus, what I wouldn’t give to just walk right up to her and have my way with her on that couch against her living room wall.
A look of sheer horror and panic crosses the redhead’s face as she sees me staring at her. She lets out a piercing scream that shakes me from my fantasy, and drops the glass she’s holding. It falls to the floor and shatters, dark liquid and glass going everywhere.
“Damn, this is one hell of a welcome wagon,” I remark with a smirk.
“Oh my God!” she yells as she awkwardly tries to cover herself. “What the hell are you doing out there?!”
Pete and Matty look over curiously. Pete starts to walk over, but I stop him with a quick shake of my head.
“I’m Knox Harper,” I say with a slow grin. “I’m your new neighbor.” My eyes slide over her body again, noting how prettily her smooth, creamy skin flushes when she’s embarrassed. I wonder if it does that when she’s aroused.
I make a mental note to send the team’s realtor a fruit basket.
The hot redhead shrieks again as I take a step through the French doors into her condo. “What are you doing?” she cries, moving back a step and grabbing a sofa pillow to hold in front of her. “Don’t you dare come any closer!”
I ignore her and look around, surveying the damage. “You’re gonna get your feet all cut up,” I tell her, nodding toward the floor. “You should go put some shoes on.” Then I walk into her living room, and almost trip over a fucking huge-ass dog I didn’t even notice was there at first. He’s kind of a brindle color, with a giant head that looks more like it belongs on a bear or something. The dog lifts his head to look at me, and his giant tail begins to thump heavily against the floor.
“Damn it, Zeus,” she fumes at him. “You are the worst guard dog ever.” The dog glances up, looks at her and then back at me, then lays his enormous head back down between his paws and closes his eyes with a deep sigh.
“Looks like you offended him,” I laugh. “You got a broom handy? I can get started on cleaning this up while you go get some shoes on.” I rake my eyes over her curves again. “But be my guest if you wanna skip the clothes.”
“Shut up!” she spits at me. “Why are you still here? Get out! I should call the cops on you!”
“Far as I can see from here, you don’t have your phone on you,” I say easily. “Besides, I’m not taking no for an answer, until you go get some goddamn shoes on.”
With a tiny roar of suppressed fury, she turns and flees down a hallway, and I take advantage of the opportunity to cop a glance at her full, luscious ass. My hard-on comes raging back, and I reach down to adjust the tent in my jeans. I look over at Zeus and say, “Is she always like this?”
His tail thumps twice as his mouth opens in a big, slobbery grin. I guess that means she is.
Then I head to where I think the kitchen is, to look for a broom.
A minute or so later, the redhead comes back into the living room, disappointingly with clothes on, and a pair of flip flops.
“You call those shoes?” I frown at her as I sweep up broken glass, but I decide to let it go.
“I asked you to leave,” she says pointedly, pointing to the balcony.
“Didn’t your mama teach you any manners?” I reply. “I’m cleaning up this broken glass for you, after all.”
“You broke into my house!” she cries. “And you scared the hell out of me. Which is why I dropped the glass in the first place. And I should thank you for that?”
I scoff. “Your doors were open. That’s hardly breaking in. That’s just walking in. Completely different.”
“Oh, my God! Either way, it’s trespassing.”
“Eh. Details,” I shrug, and continue sweeping.
O
utside, Pete yells my name. “Hey, man,” he says, his face appearing in the doorway. “We’re gonna go downstairs and rig up the couch.” His eyes flick toward the redhead. “Ma’am,” he says to her, his eyes moving over her curves.
“Sounds good,” I tell him. “You guys need me?”
“Maybe, yeah. You and Matty can be up here to hall it in.”
I nod. “Got it. Be there in a sec.” I turn toward the redhead. “Sorry, cupcake, I gotta go help the movers. Maybe we can continue this conversation later?”
Her lips part slightly in disbelief as her brows furrow. I am seriously pissing her off, and unfortunately for her, it’s cute as hell.
“You call this a conversation?” she fumes.
“Hey, you’re talking to me, I’m talking to you. That’s a conversation.” I finish sweeping the last shards of glass into the dust pan, and empty the whole thing into a waste basket I find in the kitchen. “There you go. You can thank me later,” I say generously.
She scoffs. “Fat chance.”
I stride over to the French doors, carefully stepping over the huge dog. “See you later, Zeus,” I say to him. His tail thumps once. Then I look back at the hot redhead, who’s still throwing daggers at me with her eyes. “You got a name?” I ask her.
“Go to hell,” she spits.
“Huh,” I say, cocking my head. “That must be a hell of a thing to explain in job interviews. You know, you can change that down at the courthouse for a few hundred bucks.”
Then I leave her there, looking like she’s contemplating seven different ways to kill me, and go help the guys pull up my couch.
3
Ivy
I spend the rest of the morning trying to salvage the last shreds of my dignity.
Which is exactly as difficult as you’d think it would be, after a total stranger has just walked in on you completely naked in your own living room.
Even worse, when that total stranger is apparently your new neighbor.
And worst of all, that total stranger is alarmingly, shockingly hot.
Geez Louise, I never knew men actually existed who were that freaking gorgeous. I mean, sure, I’ve seen pictures of models and movie stars online and in trashy magazines. But I always just assumed they were airbrushed and altered and made up to look that way. Plus, if you’re a celebrity who’s paid a ridiculous amount of money just to be beautiful, you’re going to have an army of personal trainers, hair and makeup people to make sure you never leave the house without looking absolutely perfect, right? So I console myself that I don’t look as good as the movie stars and celebrities by telling myself that no one actually looks like that. Not really.
But this guy… I mean, he was just moving into his condo, and he still looked like he was ready for a darn photo shoot. Even in a faded and threadbare red T-shirt, a pair of well-worn khaki shorts, and some busted-up flip flops that looked like they weren’t long for the trash… Holy wow. The memory of his piercing blue eyes is already etched uncomfortably in my mind. When he looked at me, it felt like they would be able to stare straight through my clothes. If I had been wearing any, that is. And the scruff of his beard, which looked like he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning, only accentuated his strong, square jaw and somehow made him even hotter. Then the shock of dark blond hair, just messy enough to give him a sort of roguish bad-boy look. And full, sensual lips that turned into a lazy grin and were almost impossibly distracting. It was hard not to stare at them as he spoke. They looked soft. They looked kissable. So much so that I felt my traitorous nipples pebble as his lazy southern drawl slid over my skin, intimate as a caress.
No one should be allowed to be that sexy, I tell myself crossly as I try in vain to put my irritating new neighbor out of my mind. Especially not someone I’m going to be living next door to for the foreseeable future. I don’t know how I’m going to manage to avoid him. I realize now with dismay that I’m basically going to have to declare the balcony off-limits.
And buy some curtains for the French doors. I can’t risk another incident like the one that just happened.
Still grumbling to myself, I sit down to try and make some headway on a literature review I’m working on. As I stare at my computer, working at a snail’s pace, I alternate between congratulating myself on not giving my irritating new neighbor any information about me, and being a little regretful that I didn’t try to get more information out of him. After all, it would be easier to prepare for a future of trying to avoid him if I knew whether he’s just renting or whether he’s bought the place. Or what his job is. Maybe he works the night shift and he’ll be asleep all day. One can only hope. The only thing I actually do know about him is his name — Knox Something-or-other, he said — and that he’s good-looking enough to be a male model.
Well, and that he’s an arrogant jerk who has no problem barging into someone’s home uninvited.
I try to work until my stomach starts to rumble, then close my laptop and go to the kitchen to grab something to eat. I make myself a peanut-butter and strawberry jelly sandwich — which I eat standing over the sink, because I don’t want to risk going into the dining room and having Mr. Cocky McHottiepants catch another glimpse of me through the French doors. I have clothes on now, of course, but still. The memory of the way his eyes slid over my naked body, taking in every inch of me, is enough to make my skin flame with embarrassment.
And something else, that makes me even madder.
A jolt of pure, naked desire.
Which is the absolute last thing I want to feel.
As I work, I try to tell myself that the reason my body… overreacted… so strongly to Hot Neighbor Guy is simply because it’s been so long since I’ve had a boyfriend. As you can imagine, going to a women’s college for my undergraduate degree didn’t exactly make for tons of opportunities to meet guys. But that’s part of why I chose Saint Anne’s in the first place. It was a huge stretch for my family to help me pay for college, and I wanted to take it seriously. To make sure that I stayed focused on my studies. I did have a couple of boyfriends during my college years, but nothing so serious that it made me all that sad when the relationships ended.
Since moving to Springville for grad school, I’ve been way too busy and focused on succeeding to have time for anything but making sure I do well in my classes and don’t lose my research assistant position. Even my mom has started hinting that maybe I should lighten up a little bit. I think she’s afraid I’m going to end up an old maid, but after all, I’m only twenty-four. There will be plenty of time for me to start dating once I’m done with graduate school. In the mean time, I just have to settle for the fact that my main source of male companionship has fur and slobbers on every available surface.
And try to ignore the fact that a guy who looks like he stepped straight out of every adult woman’s dreams is just on the other side of my living room wall.
After lunch, I snap on Zeus’s leash and take him downstairs for his afternoon walk. Before I go outside, I peer through the leaded glass of the front door to make sure Knox isn’t out there. Thankfully, all I see is the moving van, its back doors closed up tight. No movers or arrogant jerks are in sight. I scurry out the door —well, as fast as you can scurry with a hundred-thirty pound dog — and head down the street in the opposite direction, heaving a sigh of relief.
The humidity hasn’t fallen since this morning, and since I was stupid enough to take Zeus out during the hottest part of the day I’m soon a sweaty mess. Tendrils of damp hair cling to my face. Beads of moisture pool between my breasts. I’m only wearing a tank top and shorts, but in this humidity I feel like I’m practically wearing a parka. As we trudge along, I pull on Zeus’s leash to get us over to the shadier side of the street, hoping for at least a little relief from the heat. Unfortunately, the trees in this neighborhood aren’t really big enough to offer much in the way of protection, so “shadier” is a pretty relative term.
Even though Zeus normally loves a walk, today he isn’t much
happier about all this than I am. I can hardly blame him for that, especially given that he’s covered in thick fur. After about five minutes of loping down the street in front of me, he decides to go on strike. Before I can stop him, he flops his giant body down in a rare patch of shade and refuses to go any further.
“Oh, no… Come on, Zeus! Get up, buddy!” I coax, standing next to him and tugging on the leash. No deal. He cuts his eyes at me and then closes them with a sigh and a heavy groan. Unfortunately for me, the patch of shade he’s chosen is just big enough for a hundred-thirty pound bull mastiff and no bigger, so as I plead with him to get up, I’m standing in the afternoon sun with sweat running down my forehead and soaking my shirt. “Zeus!” My coaxing soon turns to whining. “Come on! Look, I promise you as soon as we get home, I’ll give you a big bowl of ice cream or something.”
No dice, though. Zeus is not moving. And since he weighs as much as I do, I’m basically stuck here until he decides otherwise.
My shirt is sticking to my skin now as I desperately try to think of some way to convince Zeus to move. I’m still trying in vain to talk him into getting up when I hear a car approaching. I look up to see a white Chevy SUV slow and pull over to the curb next to me. The passenger window rolls down, and I peer inside to see the amused face of my new next-door neighbor.
“You need any help?” he calls.
“No,” I reply curtly. “Zeus is just hot.”
“Looks like he’s not the only one,” Knox says, giving me a pointed grin and nodding at my sweat-soaked shirt. He puts the SUV in park and opens the car door, and I suppress a groan of frustration.
“I told you,” I repeat stubbornly. “I don’t need any help.”
Knox comes up to stand beside me. He’s been in an air-conditioned car, and he looks cool and comfortable. He pulls off the aviator sunglasses he’s wearing to look at me. Up close, I notice that his eyes are deep blue around the outside, with flecks of gold toward the center. They’re sort of mesmerizing, and I have to blink twice to snap myself out of staring at them.
PLAYERS: The Complete Series (Springville Rockets (Sports Romance Books 1-3) Page 19
