Laurie tried to tell me, so many times. “He knows you’re in love with him, and he wants to keep you that way, so you’ll always be there. It’s an ego thing. As long as you let him, you’re going to be stuck in the same place while he chases the women who present a real challenge.”
I hadn’t listened. I’d been too eager, too willing to take the little Jack offered. I’d thought if we spent time together as friends, he would surely see that we were meant to be more than that.
How pathetic!
The elevator doors slide open, and luckily, the car is empty. I step inside and press the button for the ground floor, unable to control the tears gathering as the doors swish closed again.
The ride is short. After only a few seconds, the elevator stops on the ground floor. By then my face is wet with tears, and a glance at my reflection in the mirrored walls tell me that I’m not fit to walk into the lobby. I dab at the mascara smudges on my bottom lid, and without looking, I press a button to send the elevator back up. Hopefully, the ride up and back down again will give me some time alone to repair the damage that Jack has done, both to my face and my heart.
BY the time the elevator stops at the top floor and beeps. My face is under control again. Now I just want to go home and forget everything about tonight. Not that it will be easy. I’ll still have to face Jack at work, and I have no idea how I’m going to do that. I sigh. No matter what happens, I’m so done being his go-to companion.
I hear another beep and realize that a small box on the elevator panel is prompting me for a code. I frown. At the top of the panel, the button marked ‘PH’ is glowing. I’m on the penthouse floor, and the elevator probably needs a code to open the doors. I don’t have a code, obviously, so I pause, wondering what to do.
I didn’t even realize that I’d pressed the button for the penthouse. I’d just wanted time to fix my face. I press the button for the ground floor, hoping that will work. The prompt for the code beeps again.
Okay, so what am I supposed to do now? There must be an emergency button somewhere. I’m searching along the panel when suddenly, the doors to the elevator slide open.
And my breath stops.
Something happens. Either the earth drops, or it suddenly stops spinning. I feel unbalanced, as if I’m going to lose my footing. My hand finds the aluminum railing inside the elevator, and I lean on it for support while I stare at the Greek god standing on the other side of the open doors.
There’s no other way to describe him. He’s tall, at least a head taller than me, with long legs, lean hips and broad shoulders shown off in a perfectly tailored dark-gray suit, paired with a snowy white shirt. There’s no tie, and the top button of his shirt is open, exposing his throat and a little hint of hard well-muscled chest.
Dark gold hair frames his face. It’s wavy, and just long enough to tease his collar, with a few bright strands highlighting the dark waves. And his face! It makes me unable to remember what exactly I’m doing in the elevator. Dark winged brows, eyes a deep cerulean blue, and a Greek nose, slim and pointed like an arrowhead. His lips are full and sensual, and for some reason, they make me start to think of whispers, kisses, and those same lips tracing a path on my heated skin.
I stare, lost in the glittering depths of his eyes, and unable to tear mine away. Strangely, it seems as if everything that’s happened before this moment has somehow lost all importance. As if he can feel it too, his brow knits, a puzzled expression entering the eyes that seem to be stripping me and looking into the very depths of my soul. At that moment, it feels as if I know him. As if I’ve known him all my life.
I step back, my fingers curving around the railing and holding on. Finally regaining the use of my lungs, I take a long breath, unsuccessfully trying to dispel the effect his undeniable masculine sensuality is having on me. It doesn’t help that he’s still looking at me, his eyes traveling up and down my body as if he knows exactly what he’s going to do with it.
I close my eyes, trying to arrange my thoughts and ignore all the carnal images that have taken over my brain. Okay, so he’s probably the owner of the apartment. The man with the passcode. He looks as if he was on his way out. He must have opened the elevator from inside and is probably surprised to find me right outside his apartment, staring at him as if I’ve never seen a man before.
“Good evening,” I start haltingly, trying to find the words to explain why I’m there.
There’s only a small flicker of his eyes to show that he heard me. He considers me for a few more moments, while I wonder if he’s going to acknowledge my words at all, and then one of his perfect eyebrows arches up.
“Well,” he says finally, in a voice that’s almost whispery soft, yet deep, raspy, and so incredibly sensual, it sends shivers down my spine. “You’re not what I’d have chosen, but you’ll do.”
I don’t understand a word he just said, but that might be due to the fact that my brain is still discombobulated by his blatant sexiness. I watch as he steps back and inclines his head in a gesture that tells me that he wants me to come inside the apar
tment.
“Come in.”
I’m already stepping into the entrance foyer before I wake up from the effects of his voice. I stop and frown at him. What does he mean ‘I’ll do?’
“Um…” I start, looking for words. What will I say? I don’t know who you think I am, but I was just hiding in the elevator while trying to repair the damage to my makeup from crying over a guy who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me, and I ended up in front of your apartment. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to…I hesitate. What exactly do I want to do?
I don’t want to leave. That’s for sure. There’s something dreamy about being ushered into a million-dollar, luxury apartment by a man who looks as if he just stepped out of a ‘sexiest man alive’ photo-shoot. He thinks I’ll do? For what exactly? I want to know, and somewhere in a shameless part of me, I desperately hope I don’t disappoint him.
He sees my hesitation. “Come in,” he repeats in that mesmerizing voice, “I won’t bite.” There’s a short pause. “Unless you want me to.”
There’s suddenly a weird, achy feeling low in my stomach. I pull in a gulp of air, my legs propelling me into the dimly lit foyer. He clearly thinks I’m someone else, but whoever it is, I’m more than ready to play the part, at least for now.
He leads the way through the foyer into a large living room with floor-to-ceiling windows that look out onto the city. As he walks, he shrugs off his jacket, dropping it carelessly on a sofa to join a discarded tie. “Have a seat,” he says, turning back to look at me. Without the jacket, his broad shoulders, narrow waist, slim hips, and the hard muscles beneath his shirt are obvious, too obvious.
“Would you like a drink?” he asks.
It takes a moment for me to tear my mind from thoughts of his body. “Um...”