The Man Next Door. GINA WILKINS
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his own door.
Dani and Teague ran into each other several more times during the next two weeks as October faded into November. There were times when Dani wondered if he deliberately made that happen, but she found that rather hard to believe. Her schedule was as erratic and unpredictable as his own, so he couldn’t possibly know when she would be arriving or leaving. It was only coincidence that they saw each other more lately than they had in the past; after all, they lived only a few yards apart.
And it wasn’t as if he was interested in pursuing her, anyway, she reminded herself wryly. He’d had plenty of opportunities to ask her out, if he’d wanted, and he had pointedly let them pass by.
They arrived home at the same time on a wet, cold, early evening. The parking lot was undergoing a week of repairs, so they had to park farther away from the building entrance than usual. Dani had just climbed out of her SUV, protected from the downpour by her roomy umbrella, when she saw Teague close his car door, no umbrella in his hand.
“Duck under,” she called out to him, motioning with her free hand. “There’s room for us both.”
Grinning, he crowded beneath the umbrella, matching his steps to hers as they hurried toward their building. Standing water on the pavement splashed upward from their feet, drenching the bottoms of the jeans they both wore on this Saturday evening. Dani’s shoes were soaked through to her feet; she envied Teague the waterproof hiking boots she noted that he wore.
They were both laughing when they stumbled into the entryway. Water dripped from the umbrella and the parts of themselves that hadn’t been beneath it. Juggling her bag beneath her arm, Dani closed the umbrella, trying not to soak everything around her.
“Wow,” Teague said, pushing a hand through his damp hair. “It’s really coming down out there.”
“And it’s cold,” she added, shivering. “My toes are freezing.”
“You should have worn thicker shoes.”
“You’re right. I should have.”
“Thanks for the shelter,” he said, nodding toward the umbrella. “I was still damp from getting into my car at the office.”
She shivered again. “No problem. I think I’m going to hurry upstairs, change into dry clothes and have a cup of hot chocolate to try to get warm. I’m cold all the way to the bone.”
“Hot chocolate. With marshmallows?” he asked, his expression instantly wistful.
“Maybe.”
“Sounds good. My mom used to make hot chocolate with marshmallows for me on cold, rainy afternoons.”
Even though she knew full well she was being played, she gave in. Who’d have imagined this tough FBI agent would have perfected the art of puppy-dog eyes? “I suppose I could make two cups of hot chocolate—if you’d like one.”
His face lit up. “I’d love a cup, if it’s not too much trouble.”
She hoped she wouldn’t regret this moment of weakness. “Just give me time to change and it’ll be ready.”
He pressed the elevator button. “I’ll save you the discomfort of climbing stairs in squishy shoes.”
She chuckled when her shoes squished as she walked into the elevator. Wet footprints glistened on the tile floor behind her. “I appreciate it.”
He leaned against the back of the elevator, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re in a good mood today.”
“I guess.”
“Any particular reason?”
She shrugged. “It’s just been a good day.”
“Glad to hear it.”
The elevator opened on their floor and she sloshed out. “I’ll see you in a few minutes,” she said.
“I’m looking forward to it.” He moved toward his apartment, adding over his shoulder, “It’s been a long time since I’ve had hot chocolate.”
Dani smiled wryly as she walked into her apartment, kicking off her wet shoes the moment she was inside. Trust Teague to make sure she didn’t think it was her company he was anticipating so eagerly. It was the hot chocolate that excited him—with marshmallows, apparently.
Which reminded her, she hoped she had some, she thought, hurrying into her small kitchen. Fortunately, she did. She remembered now that she’d picked up a bag when she’d bought the ingredients for the hot chocolate. Figuring she wouldn’t have much time before he arrived, she moved into her bedroom to change out of her damp clothes.
Tossing the shirt and jeans she’d worn into the hamper, she stood in bra and panties in front of her closet, her hand hovering over the hangers. It annoyed her to realize how long it was taking her to make a decision. Why was she acting as if she were dressing for a date? This was just an impromptu cup of cocoa with a neighbor, nothing more.
Donning an old pair of jeans and a rather baggy navy sweater, she slipped her feet into warm, fuzzy pink slippers and tied her hair up in a careless ponytail. She didn’t think she could make the message any more clear that she was making no effort to attract him.
He tapped on her door just as she was preparing to pour the cocoa into two sturdy mugs. She opened the door to him, and noticed immediately that he looked as though he’d had a quick shower in the fifteen minutes since they’d separated. His hair had been damp before; it was even more so now, slicked back from his face in a style that actually looked good on him.
He hadn’t shaved, and that, along with the sideburns he wore, gave him a rugged, tough look that made her heart skip. For a fleeting moment she wished she’d taken a bit more care with her own appearance. And then she shook her head in annoyance, pointing out to herself that he wore jeans, a gray T-shirt and sneakers, as casual as she was herself. She’d have looked ridiculous had she dressed up for this. Not to mention that she had no reason to want to primp for him.
Teague sniffed the air. “I smell hot chocolate.”
She smiled in response to his eagerness. “It’s in the kitchen. I was just about to add the marshmallows.”
“I like lots of marshmallows.”
“Then come add your own.” She led him into the kitchen.
She couldn’t help laughing as she watched Teague stack marshmallows in his cup. “You aren’t going to be able to get to your drink.”
“Watch me,” he said with a grin, carrying the mug to the table. “I don’t suppose you have anything to eat to go with this? I skipped lunch, and I’m kind of hungry.”
He didn’t lack for nerve. She supposed that was a good thing for an FBI agent. “I could make you a sandwich.”
“That would be great, if it isn’t too much trouble.”
“It’s no trouble.” She watched him for a moment before moving toward the fridge. “How can you possibly drink that without getting a marshmallow mustache?”
He chuckled. “Talent. This is really good, Dani. Tastes just like I remember my mom making.”
She sipped her own as she pulled the makings for a turkey and Swiss sandwich from the fridge. “Is your mother still living?”
“No, she died when I was a kid. My dad remarried a few years later. He’s gone now, too, but I’ve stayed in contact with my stepmother.”
“Does she live in this area?”
He shook his head. “She’s in a retirement community in Florida. I get out to see her a couple of times a year. What about you? Is your family around here?”
“No, they all live in Atlanta.”
“I thought that was a Georgia accent I heard from you. Both your parents still living?”