Mr. Right, Next Door!

by Barbara Wallace

  “I manage to grab a few hours’ sleep,” she answered. Pretending she didn’t catch the innuendo, even though they both knew otherwise. “Some nights more than others. Some nights, like last night and tonight, less. Depends on how many interruptions I have.” He wasn’t the only one who could shoot off a veiled comment.

  Unfortunately, unlike her, he didn’t suffer an embarrassing reaction. Instead, he played with the edge of his beer label. “Do you ever wonder if it’s worth the effort?”

  “Of course it is. How else is a person going to move up?” she asked just before pushing the swinging door. “The world doesn’t hand you success. You want something, you have to go for it.”

  She set the pizza in the center of the table, then took a seat in her usual chair. Grant settled in the spot across from her. Even with a table in between, the setup managed to feel cozy and Sophie wondered if letting him stay was a good idea. How long had it been since she’d shared a dinner at home with someone? Never as far as this place was concerned. David preferred eating out and before him… Wow, she couldn’t remember the last time.

  A few inches from her right hand, her BlackBerry blinked, telling her she had another email. The total from Allen was already up to fifteen. Meanwhile, across the table, Grant was smacking his lips in overly dramatic fashion. “Not bad,” she heard him say. “Not Chezzerones quality, but for a frozen pizza, it’s pretty good.”

  “Glad to know my mini-mart meets your high standards.” She was busy typing an email to Allen before her in-box buzzed again.

  “You should try a slice.”

  “I will.”

  “I mean before the pizza gets cold.”

  She looked up and he immediately held up a hand. “I know. You’re working. Doesn’t end, does it? The pressure. No matter how much you accomplish, there’s always something more to be done.”

  “Clearly you’ve seen my to-do list.”

  There was a pause while he took another bite. “Do you mind if I ask a personal question?”

  Sophie felt her heart skitter. “Personal how?” she asked, looking up.

  “What goal are you trying to reach with all this work?”

  Oh. That wasn’t what she expected. “I told you in the kitchen. I want to get ahead.”

  “Just ahead.”

  With a sigh, she put aside her phone. Obviously her “guest” had no intention of letting her email until she answered him. “My plan is to be named managing director of my firm.”

  “Ambitious. Then what?”

  “Then I’ll be at the top of the food chain.” She’ll have climbed higher than anyone expected a member of the Messina family to climb—including members of the Messina family. “And then I’ll be the one pestering people with emails.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got everything planned out.”

  “I do.” Although she didn’t owe him any further explanation, she decided to give him one anyway. Who knows, maybe he’d learn something from the advice. Like you’re interested in mentoring him. “I came in as a junior investment analyst, worked my way up to senior and with time and effort, I’ll move up to the next level. In fact, rumor has it one of our directors is retiring, putting me in a very good position to take his place.”

  “Then what?”

  It was like answering a broken record. Then what. Then what. “Then I can focus on the other items on my list.”

  “Items?” Reaching over, he lay a slice of pizza on her plate. “Here. Eat or be eaten. What do you mean by ‘items on your list’?”

  Sophie sighed again. “I didn’t realize dinner came with an inquisition.”

  “I’m curious.”

  “All right. If you must know, I have a Life To-do List. Goals I want to accomplish.” Everything she needed to officially consider herself having succeeded in life. A college degree. An MBA. A house of her own. A high-powered job. A successful, mature companion. A summerhouse.

  “Like a bucket list.”

  “More like a master life plan.”

  Grant was nodding as he raised his drink. “How very…rigid of you,” he said.

  Rigid? Maybe but rigidity had served her well so far. More than he’d ever know. That sexy smile probably never encountered a hurdle in its life. “Don’t you believe in planning for the future?”

  To her surprise, the question caused his jaw muscles to tense. His eyes grew distant and dark. Only for a second, though, then the darkness disappeared, replaced by a lopsided grin. “Where’s the surprise in that?”

  “I’m not big into surprises. I prefer forewarning and foundation. When you’re older, you’ll understand.”

  The lopsided grin slid into sexy territory. “Are you trying to sound like my mother on purpose?”

  “Why not? I’m almost old enough to be.”

  “Hardly.”

  “All right, maybe not that old. But I am old enough. Older than you.” And apparently felt the need to remind both of them of that fact.

  He took a drink. “I wouldn’t go filling out your nursing home application quite yet. And trust me, you look nothing like my mother.” As if to prove his point, he let his gaze travel from the top of her head to her waist.

  Feeling her self-consciousness threatening to rise again, she used her pizza as an excuse to look away. Didn’t matter. As she tore her crust into tiny bites, she could still feel the warmth flooding her cheeks. Scrutiny, even flattering scrutiny, was never something she enjoyed. Reminded her too much of unwanted attention. Over the years she’d cultivated a tolerance for being looked at, but for some reason her neighbor’s gaze penetrated deeper than most. Its imprint lingered on her nervous system, feeding her awareness long after the look had ended. It was most disturbing, particularly during moments like this.

  The buzz of a cell phone interrupted the silence.

  “Duty calls,” she heard Grant say.

  “Always does.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the blinking email indicator on her cell phone. Calling to her. She ran her fingers lightly across the face of the phone.

  Grant picked up on the hint and pushed away from the table. “Guess I’ll be on my way then,” he said. “Wouldn’t want to derail your trip up the corporate ladder.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. There seemed an underscoring of sarcasm in that comment, but she chose to ignore it.

  “Thank you for the pizza.”

  “Does this mean we’re even now?”

  “Even?”

  “For costing you dinner. And accusing you of stealing my water,” she added.

  In Sophie’s mind, the appropriate answer would have been “don’t worry about it.” At least that’s the response she would give. Instead, he gave her another one of those long unnerving looks. One that wrapped itself tightly around her and squeezed. “We’ll see.”

  We’ll see? What kind of answer was that? Either they were even or they weren’t. We’ll see implied unfinished business. She hated unfinished business. Absolutely loathed it. Why on earth would he imply something like that?

  And why did her insides do a little tumble at the prospect?

  * * *

  Grant let himself out. Sophie was already on her phone and didn’t notice. Click, click, clicking her way on her climb to what was it? Managing director? Listening to her talk about her “master plan” made his blood chill. It all sounded so determined, so calculated. And oh so achingly familiar.

  The night had started out so differently. Order pizza, kick
back and watch the game. A simple enough plan. Who decided to add Reminders of Mistakes Past to the agenda? First Mike, then his sexy workaholic neighbor.

  Heaving a sigh, he washed a hand across his features and headed toward the staircase. Seeing Etta’s apartment in all its untouched splendor didn’t help. Bad enough he got a stab of guilt every time he mounted the staircase.

  He wrapped his hand around the banister. Days of use had already worn the gloss away, creating a dull but warm-looking patina. The way wood should be, he thought, stroking the grain. God, but this house had been magnificent in its original form. Time worn, but with all the previous grandeur still alive beneath the surface.

  And you helped talk her into chopping up the place. Yet another example of how blind he’d been to the obvious back then.

  At least he was doing his best to repair the damage now. His apartment was one of the few mistakes he could fix.

  For some reason, his thoughts drifted back to the first floor apartment and the woman working away at her dining room table. Bet if he knocked on her door three hours from now, she’d still be sitting in the same place, BlackBerry in hand, pizza untouched. A complete waste of legs and beauty if you asked him.

  She reminded him of someone. Other than himself, that is. He’d been racking his brain all evening trying to figure out who, and he couldn’t. Definitely not his mother, that’s for sure. Last time he checked, his mother didn’t have lips as ripe as berries. Too bad Sophie was such a workaholic, or he’d have tried a little harder to taste them.

  On the other hand, maybe he should try to taste them because she was a workaholic. Show her what she was missing. After all the woman could use some loosening up. If anyone knew the cost of tunnel vision it was him. Besides, he’d never met a blonde he didn’t want to kiss, and those lips were far too delicious looking to pass up.

  Yup, he thought as he reached his apartment door, he was definitely going to have to give this idea some thought.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  NEXT morning Sophie woke to the sound of someone knocking on her door. And she’d been right in the middle of a good dream, too. At least she assumed it was good. Only the sensation remained. Prying open one eye, she saw the time and groaned. After last night’s impromptu dinner, she’d stayed up late catching up on the market activity she missed. Her reward to herself was to be sleeping in to six-thirty. That’s when David would be picking her up so she could shower at his place. He’d originally suggested she come over last night, but she’d begged off, insisting she needed to work. In reality, she was reluctant to start a pattern.

  Not to mention you felt a little awkward after spending part of the night flirting with your man-child neighbor.

  The knocking started anew. She slipped on her robe, ran a comb through her hair—thank heaven for ponytails, bed head’s best friend—and padded into the living room just in time to call off round three. “Coming!”

  “Good morning,” Grant greeted when she opened the door. He looked entirely too fresh and showered for so early in the morning. His bright blue shirt clung to his shoulders almost as obscenely as his jeans clung to his hips. The attraction she fought all last night came rolling back so strongly her knees almost buckled. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” she asked him, tightening the belt on her robe.

  His expression was unapologetic. “Is that any way to greet the men who fixed your water?”

  “You fixed my water?”

  “Not me, him.” Belatedly, Sophie realized Grant wasn’t alone. An African-American man with salt-and-pepper hair stood next to him. He carried a toolbox and wore a blue-and-white-striped work shirt with a patch that read A Plus Plumbing.

  “This—” Grant clapped the man on his shoulder “—this is Erik Alvareen. Only plumber you’ll ever need.”

  Sophie was still a little fuzzy. Grant had called a plumber? For her? Why? She shook the man’s hand. “Sorry for the abrupt greeting. I had no idea you would be by.”

  “Normally, I wouldn’t show up this early,” Erik explained, “but I’ve got another job midtown that’s gonna take most of the day.”

  “Plus, he owes me,” Grant added, giving the man’s shoulder a squeeze.

  “Not anymore I don’t,” Erik replied. “You dragging my rear end out of bed at four in the morning makes us even.”

  “Like you weren’t going to be awake anyhow. Erik’s already looked at the meter,” Grant told Sophie, “but he wanted to check your faucets, too.”

  “Just to make sure. Best to cover all bases.”

  As if she could argue with that. Sophie stepped aside and let the two men in.

  “Do you mind if I take a second to throw some clothes on?” she asked, tugging on her belt again. For the second day in a row, Grant managed to find her in her skimpy clothing. This morning’s short robe was perfect for hot weather, but not for entertaining two men. Especially Grant, whose eyes immediately dropped to the hemline.

  “Don’t bother on our account,” he said.

  The remark did not help. Sophie could feel her skin turning red. What was he doing here, anyway? The plumber seemed to have everything well in hand.

  “I’ll only be a minute,” she told them. “If you’d like, you can check out the kitchen first. Grant knows where it is.”

  When she returned five minutes later in a far more appropriate set of yoga pants and T-shirt, she found Grant alone. “Erik is looking at the guest bathroom,” he said.

  Much to her irritation, Grant had found both her collection of coffee and her coffee mugs and was operating her single-cup coffeemaker. “I don’t recall offering you free rein to dig through my cupboards.”

  “I didn’t dig anywhere. I saw the coffee last night when I was getting the plates.” The mug finished brewing and he handed it to her. “Figured you might be looking for some caffeine since we dragged you out of bed so early.”

  All right, she’d forgive him the intrusion this time. “The plumber was a surprise,” she said, scooting by him to get to the refrigerator. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I didn’t want to risk a complaint being filed with the building association. Besides, Erik is the one guy I know who will do the repair right.”

  “I have to admit, I do appreciate things being done right,” Sophie conceded.

  He popped another pod into the brewing chamber. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Finished doctoring her coffee, Sophie offered him the nonfat creamer only to have him shake his head. “No thanks. I’m more a black and bold kind of guy.”

  “Bold, anyway,” she murmured, thinking how he made himself at home. And at home was exactly how he looked, too. Propped against the countertop, his long legs crossed at the ankles, he looked custom built for the space. The hem of his T-shirt ghosted the top of his low-slung jeans, just short enough so that when he moved his arms it inched upward revealing a sliver of plaid, from his boxers. Sophie cursed the warmth that unfurled in her stomach. It was way too early in the morning for such overt virility.

  She gripped her mug a little tighter and positioned herself across the aisle. “Are you always like this?” she asked him.

  “Bold? Absolutely.”

  Ignoring the way his answer seemed to slide down her spine, she said, “I mean, do you always do favors for strangers? Especially ones who have been—”

  “A pain in the butt?”

  “I was going to say ‘at odds.’”

  “Tomato, tomah
to. I thought we settled all that with last night’s pizza.”

  Had they? She seemed to recall a sense of unfinished business. “Either way, it was still nice of you. I’m looking forward to taking a shower.”

  “Glad I could help. Although, if you ask me,” he said with a slow smile, “you also look pretty damn good for a woman who’s been denied bathing privileges.”

  “Benefits of bottled water.”

  “Very resourceful. Somewhere there’s a Boy Scout leader wishing you were in his troop. You’d be the queen of merit badges.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What makes you certain I’m giving you a compliment?”

  “I’ll take it as one.” Cradling her mug, she fortified herself with a good long sip. She could already feel the caffeine in her bloodstream, kicking up her pulse and causing her insides to churn. At least she chose to blame the caffeine. She refused to acknowledge the voice in the back of her head suggesting her company was having the greater effect. “Same way I’ll attribute your mocking to jealousy.”

  “Jealousy?”

  “Sure. Because I’d earn more merit badges than you.”

  He laughed. “I’ll have you know that no one earned more merit badges than I did back in Scouts. I mastered every skill. I can even rub two sticks together and make fire.”

  His feral smile was making Sophie’s knees buckle. If she hadn’t been holding her coffee, she’d have gripped the countertop.

  Heat pooled at the base of her spine. At some point during their exchange, she’d leaned forward, bringing her into his physical space. Peppermint reached her nostrils. She was close enough now to see the faint lines near the corners of his eyes.

  And, he was close enough to see the bags under hers.

  She practically slammed her spine against the counter edge straightening her back. “So,” she said, covering by taking another healthy gulp of coffee. “Four o’clock in the morning, huh? Your friend Erik must have owed you one heck of a favor. What did you do?”