If She Dares. Tanya Michaels
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were about two feet off the ground, the elevator shaft visible through the top of the doors.
The property manager who’d given Jack the tour of his apartment stood outside the elevator, looking up at them. “You okay, Ms. Kendrick?”
“We’re all right. But I might need a hand with this box.” She passed it to him, then hopped down to the floor with the man’s assistance. Jack followed, feeling a little silly with his empty pizza box and the plastic bag he’d seized as an excuse to join Riley in the elevator. He was glad he had, though. The few minutes he’d expected to spend assuring her he was an amiable new neighbor had turned into something altogether more intriguing.
She smiled over her shoulder. “Thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a better crisis buddy.”
“Hey, what are neighbors for?” They were for borrowing cups of sugar or perhaps feeding your fish while you were on vacation. Not, he told himself, for the kind of carnal activities he was suddenly envisioning.
The last lover he’d had lived in a completely different part of the building from him, and he’d still felt compelled to move out after their affair ended. Riley lived directly across the hall. They were the only two people on that floor, with no one else to act as a buffer. So instead of falling in step with her and continuing their conversation, he hung back, making small talk with the manager about how he was settling in.
I will not pursue her. But, given that he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her, the vow lacked believability.
* * *
AS RILEY WALKED away from the elevator, it occurred to her that she now had the necessary reception to call her sister and explain why she was late. Yet she didn’t reach for her phone, too distracted by lingering prickles of awareness. Was it her imagination that she could feel Jack watching her? Or perhaps wishful thinking?
Looking back over the past twelve months, she recognized that part of her had wanted to become invisible, as if no one could hurt her if they didn’t see her. She’d forgotten how nice it could feel to have someone notice her, to appreciate her for something beyond programming and design skills. Jack had made her feel desirable, had made her realize how much she’d missed that.
Plus, the man was pretty damn desirable himself. Those dark, compelling eyes, that voice...
“Riley? Wait up!”
Speaking of Jack’s voice. Her pulse quickened, and it was a thrill to have her heart accelerate from an emotion other than apprehension. She turned to face him. “Yes?”
“I was thinking about what you said in the elevator.”
Her body tingled as she recalled the many things that had been said. What if he invited her over for a neighborly game of strip poker? Don’t be ridiculous. She knew their playful conversation had been a diversionary tactic more than anything else. Besides, she wasn’t a college kid anymore. She was a grown businesswoman; no way was she getting topless in front of her new neighbor.
Yet the forbidden fantasy was not without appeal.
“About what I said?” she echoed, trying to quell her overactive imagination.
“About being spontaneous and demonstrating backbone. The property manager was just filling me in on some details, like the tenant-board election next month. You should run against Mrs. Tyler for president!”
Uncertain whether she was relieved or disappointed that his suggestion wasn’t more risqué, she laughed. “Interesting idea, but I don’t think so.”
He grinned knowingly. “Dare you.”
“Oh, that’s just...” Why the hell not? “Okay,” she heard herself agree. She was well organized and, when not flinching at shadows, a reasonable person. She was certainly invested in the building’s security. Best of all, this was the most spontaneous decision she’d made in months. Since Mrs. Tyler was likely to mow her down in the parking lot once she found out, it even qualified as reckless.
“Seriously? You’ll do it?”
“I told you, I’m a sucker for a dare.” A mischievous thought struck her. “Of course, you never know when I might return the favor.”
“You mean daring me to do something? Like what?”
“I don’t know.” She beamed at him, her spirit lighter than it had been in nearly a year. “But I’ll think of something.”
“I QUIT MY JOB.”
Riley sighed. Typical Wren—her sister couldn’t even wait until she was seated before making a dramatic announcement. “Hello to you, too. I went ahead and ordered your drink,” she said, gesturing to the iced tea on the other side of the booth.
Wren shrugged out of her raincoat, then slid onto the high-backed bench. The hem of her jeans was soaked, as if she’d been splashing through puddles on the sidewalk, and her normally flat-ironed hair was curling into damp gold ringlets. “I’m counting on you to be supportive. Dad’s only response was a grunt from behind the newspaper—can you believe he still gets hard copies of the paper?—but Mom and Rochelle were both completely wigged. Honestly, I’m twenty-two. Did they expect me to be some CEO by now?”
“I think they were just hoping you could stick with something for longer than three months before getting bored,” Riley said gently. At her sister’s narrowed eyes, she held up her hands. “Not that I’m judging. Honestly, part of me admires your fearless spontaneity. Just...don’t let being spontaneous conflict with paying rent, okay?”
Her sister’s blue-gray eyes twinkled with mischief. “If my roommates kick me to the curb for not ponying up my share, I could always bunk with you.”
Because she loved her sister, Riley managed not to shudder. Wren had offered to live with her once before, when trying to dissuade Riley from putting her house on the market last year. If it would make you feel less vulnerable about being there alone, I’ll move in, Ry. A kindhearted sentiment, but working from home required a certain amount of organization—or, at least disorganization that Riley could control. Wren was a slob of epic proportions.
Luckily, she was only kidding this time. After flashing a quick smile, she reverted to the topic of her job. “I didn’t quit because I was bored, FYI. Waitressing is hella degrading! Oh...no offense,” Wren said to the waitress approaching their table. “I meant cocktail waitressing, trying to discourage drunken guys who want my number without being so blunt I lose my tip.”
The waitress made a sympathetic face then took their orders. Riley asked for a salad and cup of soup.
“Same here,” Wren said, “except, instead of the bisque, I’ll have the chocolate cake.”
After the waitress walked away, Riley asked, “So do you have a plan for life after cocktail waitressing?”
She nodded. “There’s an awesome lingerie store near me, Vivien’s Armoire. Upscale, but fun—my friend Becca had her bachelorette shower there. It’s owned by two sisters but since one’s planning her wedding and the other one is preggers, they need help. I’ll work there until my own business is up and running.”
Riley was almost afraid to ask. “Your business?”
“Making jewelry! Check these out.” Wren tucked her hair behind her ears, showing off colorful, funky earrings.
“Nice.”
“Glad you like them, because I have something for you.” Turning, Wren began to dig through her giant quilted handbag.
She was in full excavation mode, half the contents of her purse piled on the table—why the hell did she have a TV remote control?—when the waitress came with their food. Still focused on her search, Wren absently pushed her salad bowl