Mr Right, Next Door!. Barbara Wallace
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waiting on one. Leaving her more behind than ever, because Lord knows Allen wouldn’t care what she had to stay home for. That’s why we gave you a laptop and smart phone, Sophie. She let out a decidedly unladylike oath.
“You’re welcome,” a deep voice replied.
Once again put in her place, Sophie cringed. “I’m sorry,” she said, brushing hair and cobwebs from her eyes. “I don’t mean to take my frustration out on you.”
“You sure? Why stop now?”
The remark made her smile, albeit ruefully. “I have been acting difficult, haven’t I? Sorry about that, too.”
He shrugged. “As long as we’re apologizing, I might have played a small part in your bad attitude.”
“When you say ‘small,’ are you talking about the banging or slamming the door in my face?”
“I did not slam the door. I shut it.” In the dim light, Sophie caught the gleam of bright white teeth. “The high ceilings made the noise sound louder.”
“My mistake then.”
“Apology accepted.”
Sophie brushed the hair from her eyes again—stupid curls refused to stay in place—grateful the darkened atmosphere shrouded her appearance. With their business in the basement now finished, she should be heading back upstairs to start looking for a plumber. Her feet didn’t feel like moving, though. Instead, she leaned against the chain-link cage behind her, hooking her fingers through the gaps in the pattern. “I think we both got off on the wrong foot,” she heard herself say. “I’m not normally such a witch.”
“Sure you want to use a W?”
“Very funny. And, I’m normally not that, either. Although my assistants might disagree.”
“I see. You’re one of those bosses.”
She drew her brow. “Those bosses?”
“The kind that demand a lot from their employees.”
“If you mean I have high expectations, then yes, I am.”
She could almost imagine him analyzing her words, and out of habit jutted her chin at him in silent challenge. Work hard and work smart. What was wrong with that?
“There’s only one problem with that statement.”
He strolled toward her, his figure casting a towering shadow on the wall. “I don’t work for you.”
“I know that,” she replied.
“You sure?” He smiled again, his curvy grin curving crookedly across his face. “Because the last couple of days you seemed to have a different impression.”
Sophie’s cheeks flushed again. Good Lord, but she’d blushed more in the past couple of minutes than in the past year. This man definitely made her act out of character. “Is that your way of asking for another apology?”
“Just making sure you don’t forget the true nature of our relationship.”
“Which is?”
“At the moment, barely civil neighbors, although I suppose now that we’ve buried the hatchet, we could drop the barely.”
He strode a little closer, until the space between them wasn’t more than a few feet. Without thinking, her eyes dropped to the V of his shirt and the patch of smooth skin peering out of the gap. His skin smelled faintly of beer and peppermint. Its aroma lingered in the basement air like a masculine perfume. Wonder if his skin tasted as good as it smelled.
What on earth…? Since when did she think such kinds of things, about relative strangers no less. For goodness’ sake, she didn’t even know the man’s full…
“Name!”
In the quiet basement, the word came out louder than necessary, causing them both to jump. “I mean, I don’t know your name,” she quickly corrected. “Only your first initial. From the mailbox.”
“Grant.”
“Grant,” she repeated. That was better. Knowing his name made it better. That is, made him less of a stranger. She still had no business thinking about his skin. Extending her hand, she pushed all inappropriate thoughts out of her head. “What do you say we start fresh? I’m Sophie Messina.”
“Nice to meet you, Sophie Messina.”
His handshake was firm and strong, not the soft grip so many men adapted when greeting a woman. Sophie could feel the calluses pressing rough against her palm. They were hardworking hands. The sensation conjured up images of work-hewn muscles rippling under exertion.
Lifting her eyes, she caught the spark of… something… as it passed across his caramel-colored eyes, bright enough to light them up despite the shadows, and briefly she insisted their gaze dropped to her lips. Sophie’s mouth ran dry at the thought. He cleared his throat, alerting her to the fact she still held his hand. Quickly she released his grip, and they stood there, awkwardly looking at one another.
Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang.
No, not a bell. A buzzer. Once. Twice. Then nothing.
“Dammit, I forgot…”
She stumbled slightly as Grant rushed past her. “Forgot what? What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer. He was too busy taking the steps two at a time.
“Wait!” she heard him call to someone from the top of the stairs. It took her a second to catch up, but when she did, she found him standing in the foyer, front door open, staring at the traffic passing in the street. A missed date?
He glared at her from over his shoulder. “You owe me a dinner.”
For the second time that evening, Sophie heard herself saying, “I beg your pardon?”
“That,” he said, nodding toward the front door, “was my dinner. I missed the delivery because I was downstairs showing you the broken meter.”
In other unspoken words, he blamed her.
“I’m sure if you call, he’ll turn right around.”
Another glare, this one accompanied by him jamming his fingers through his hair and mussing it. If only disheveled looked that good on her. “It was pizza from Chezzerones.”
“Oh.” Sophie was beginning to understand. Chezzerones had the best pizza in the area, as well as a very strict delivery policy. Fail to answer the door and your number got put on the “bad” list. Something to do with drunken university students and too many wasted calls. Sophie made the mistake of inquiring and had gotten a very detailed explanation from Chezzerone himself one night. It looked like, by helping her, Grant had gotten himself stuck on the bad list.
Darn it all, she did owe him a dinner.
CHAPTER THREE
LAST thing Sophie wanted was to have a debt hanging over her head. “All right, come with me,” she said.
This time Grant was the one who scowled. “Why?”
“For dinner. You said I owed you a dinner. I’m paying you back. Now come with me.”
As she fished her keys from her pocket to unlock her door, she once again felt him standing close, his peppermint scent finding a way to tease her from behind. A flash of heat found its way to the base of her spine.
What was with her? Lord, you’d think she’d had never crossed paths with a good-looking man before.
She so needed a shower and good night’s sleep.
Of all the co-op residences in the building, Sophie’s was the largest. U-shaped, the apartment reached around the back stairway onto the other side, where the master bedroom was located.