Run the Risk. Lori Foster
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her cheap canvas slip-on sneakers to make an obnoxious shuffling sound. Her long skirt kicked around her shins. Her chest constricted.
Keeping her head down, her paper bags of groceries held securely in her arms, she pretended not to notice him.
She should win an Oscar for her performance, because seriously, who wouldn’t notice him? If she had to guess, she’d say women came to him easily. He had that type of raw, cocky presence.
The kind of presence that left her on edge.
It probably ate him up that she ignored him. That was the only explanation for his continued attention. But what else could she do?
The hot August sun beat down on her head. She would dearly love a cool swim right about now. But not with him around.
Actually…not ever.
It seemed her carefree days of swimming were well behind her. It made her sad to think of all that had been lost, all that she’d had to forfeit, in the name of survival.
But thanks to her brother, she had survived, she reminded herself. And that’s what mattered most.
It was also the number one reason she couldn’t be drawn in by the new neighbor’s lure.
He should have a big D for danger on his oft-naked chest.
As she hastened her steps in, Pepper dropped her head so far that her chin nearly touched her chest.
Of course he called out to her. He always called out to her. It made no sense, but her rebuffs hadn’t dissuaded him at all.
The man had a rock-solid ego.
“Evening, Ms. Meeks.”
When she’d taken the alias, it hadn’t been a big deal, because she wasn’t a big deal. Few ever spoke to her. None ever called out to her.
But he did.
She drew a fortifying breath, peeked up at him and gave a subdued nod. “Evening.”
He disappeared off the balcony and she just knew he was coming inside to corral her in the narrow hallway.
Why wouldn’t he leave her alone?
The apartment building was…unpleasant. Peeling paint from the walls, mold in the corners, carpet with stains she didn’t want to investigate too closely…
She knew why she was there.
Why was he?
Dreading every foot that brought her closer to him, she went up the squeaking steps to her second-floor apartment, and…there he was.
Knowing he waited for her, she stalled.
He lounged back against his door, which was right next to hers, arms crossed over his bare chest, his brown hair disheveled, five o’clock shadow on his jaw. He wore only wrinkled khaki shorts that hung low on his lean hips—and he took her breath away.
Seeing him again had the same impact it’d had the first time she’d laid eyes on him. He was so sinfully appealing that it staggered her senses.
What did he want?
Not the usual, not with how he looked, and how…she looked. So then, why did he so relentlessly pursue her?
The long walk to the grocery and back again—something she usually enjoyed—left her hot, damp with perspiration and in no mood for playing games.
At least, not these games.
She had to avoid his gaze or—humiliating thought—he just might see everything she felt, everything she thought.
About him. About the incredible body that he insisted on displaying.
And how she’d like to rub her body all over his…
“Hey.”
Before she could figure out a way to dodge him, he pushed away from the wall, his smile welcoming, his dark eyes warm. She swallowed her sigh. “Hello.”
“Here, let me help you with that.”
Like she couldn’t handle a few bags of groceries? Why was he bothering her like this? Flustered, talking too fast, Pepper said, “That’s okay, really. I’ve got—”
He scooped the bags away from her and gestured for her to precede him to her apartment.
“—it.” Left empty-armed and unnerved, she kept her shoulders slumped and did her best to bank her reaction to him. “Really, Mr. Stark, I don’t—”
“We’re neighbors, so call me Logan.”
She didn’t want to call him anything and tried to convey that with a show of umbrage. “Really, Mr. Stark, I don’t need any help.”
His grin widened. Teasing. Flirting. “You are so prickly.”
How could he make that sound like a compliment? “I am not—”
He snatched her keys from her, too, and short of grabbing for them, which would only make her look foolish, she had no choice but to follow him.
“—prickly,” she muttered—probably in a really prickly way. While he unlocked her door, she stared at his broad back. He was tanned, his sleek skin almost as damp as her own.
Her fingers twitched with the need to touch him, to coast her palms over his heated skin and taut muscles.
He turned toward her, and she got the up close and personal view of his chest. It shocked her, but she noticed his small brown nipples, how soft chest hair half hid them…
“If not prickly, then what?”
She glanced up, saw he’d been watching her as she studied him, and wanted to sink into the floor. Her face went hot, her body hotter—but probably not for the reasons he assumed.
“I’m private.” Although, the way she’d just looked at him, sort of eye-raping him—oh, God—it was no wonder he didn’t understand that.
Every single time he got within her view, she visually molested him. His fault in part, because he always had so much skin on display; she wasn’t used to anyone like him, anyone who looked as good as he did.
A touch to her chin brought up her face and nearly stopped her heart. “Saying hi to a neighbor somehow intrudes on your privacy?”
No, no, no. He couldn’t touch her. She couldn’t let him touch her. Time to escape.
Ducking around him, Pepper swung the door open, stepped in fast ahead of him, then turned to block his way. “I barely know you.”
“I’m trying to remedy that, right?” He looked into her apartment with curiosity and surprise. One brow lifted at the mess she knew he saw.
So she wasn’t übertidy. So she was actually a slob. Maybe that would repel him.
“I keep to myself.” She awkwardly snatched back her groceries and straightened her spine. “Others should do the same.”
“Yeah, maybe I could.” Giving up his scrutiny of her cluttered living space, he leaned in her door frame—all six-feet-plus of him. His broad shoulders kept her from closing the door.
Patient, silent, he waited for her to meet his gaze.
Girding herself, Pepper looked up—and felt caressed by his suggestive, intimate attention. She cleared her throat and prompted him with, “You could…what?”
“Maybe stop chasing your skirt.” His voice dropped. “If you weren’t so damn cute.”
Shock took her back a step.
Cute? He must be deranged, because no way was he desperate. Why would he say such an absurd thing?
His expression softened. “You don’t think you’re cute?”
The laugh strangled in her throat, and her automatic