“Who are you and what were you doing in my closet?” she asked, still not letting go of the vase.
“Your closet …?” he mumbled, rising to his hands and knees. On all fours, he turned his head from side to side, looking around the room, and added, “I’m in the wrong apartment.”
“No shit, Sherlock. Now who are you?”
He lifted his head to look up at her. And his big brown eyes—gorgeous, beautiful, velvety-brown eyes that were ringed by the longest lashes she’d ever seen on a man—got even wider.
That was when she remembered she was naked but for her bra. And that he was kneeling at her feet. About eye level with.
“Oh, my God,” she groaned, lunging for her dresser. She plopped the vase on it, grabbed her robe and thrust her arms inside, quickly wrapping it around her body.
She couldn’t stop shaking. Adrenaline had put her on high alert. Now humiliation and embarrassment were doing their darnedest to make her quiver into a ball of mush.
Had she really just flashed her goodies to a complete stranger? And, for the briefest, most wicked second, had she not been tantalized by the image of that incredibly hot, sexy stranger moving a few inches closer for a more intimate look?
She’d been in here planning to seduce a nice man she’d been dating and was about as aroused as a stick of wood. But playing a Sharon Stone-type game of peek-a-crotch with a gorgeous mystery man got her all warm and melty down there?
She clenched her thighs together. Yeah. Warm and melty. Like chocolate left in the sun.
Just waiting to be tasted.
She winced and clenched harder. What on earth was wrong with her? “This can’t be happening,” she said with a moan.
“Tell me about it.”
The stranger, all slick-skinned, broad-chested and rippling muscles, slowly rose to his feet. He continued to look around the room, shaking his head slowly, as if in a daze.
Up close, he was more attractive—not to mention at least twenty degrees hotter—than he had been from across the party. His jaw was so square, his face so lean and masculine. Such masculinity shouldn’t have looked right with the accompanying long lashes and the downright full lips, but managed to come across as perfect.
“This really isn’t my bedroom.” He still sounded thoroughly confused.
“I think we’ve established that. It’s my bedroom. Did you not happen to notice the pink sheets and lingerie?”
Of course he noticed the lingerie, idiot.
Feeling her face flame, and the rest of her get a little warmer, too, she tightened her arms around her waist, conscious of how silky and thin the robe was. Could he see the pucker of her nipples against the cloth? Was there any way he could tell that her thighs were quivering and she badly wanted to lean against the edge of the bed for support?
“I noticed,” he admitted, his eyes darkening.
She licked her lips, reminded herself to breathe. “How did you get in here?” It made no sense. Hadn’t he been outside at the party when she’d entered the screen porch? And while she’d left the door unlocked on the way out earlier, she’d flipped the lock when coming back in.
He lifted his hand, showing her a small key.
She gaped. “Where did you get that?”
“From Anna. I locked myself out of my apartment.”
All the breath left her lungs as she suddenly realized who he was. Not some random, lost party guest. Not a drunk who might forget this night ever happened. Not a handsome stranger she would never have to see again. No. She’d just come face-to-coochie with her new next-door neighbor.
“You’re 1B,” she whispered.
“Excuse me?”
“The new tenant across the hall in 1B.”
He slowly nodded. “Yeah. I moved in today. And, uh, am I to understand that you’re 1A?”
“Yes.”
He hesitated a long moment.
“Well, uh … nice to meet you?”
The guy had just been kneeling face-level with her—fortunately neatly trimmed—va-jay-jay and all he could manage was nice to meet you? Where the hell was the sorry I was creeping in your closet and spying on you naked?
“Seriously? That’s all you’ve got?”
A slow, lazy grin tugged at his lips and he glanced down at her robe-covered body. “Uh, really nice to meet you?”
She reached for the vase again.
He held a hand up, palm out. “Sorry. But, I mean, you gotta admit, that first meeting is going to be hard to top.” He glanced at her thong, still lying on the floor between them. His stare grew a little more heated. “Not to mention bottom.”
She growled. Literally. “Just how long were you watching?”
“Long enough to wonder if you’re dating a eunuch.”
“What?”
“Hey, only a guy with no balls wouldn’t like the way you looked in that thong.”
Her face reddened and she was torn between thanking him or kicking him. Not only had he seen her—lots of her—but he’d obviously heard her talking to herself. Hopefully he hadn’t arrived in time to hear her ask the pretend Dimitri in the mirror if he was into anything naughty and kinky.
Hmm. Wonder if 1B is?
She swallowed the lump in her throat, wishing her brain would stop tossing out these sexy curveballs. She was on the straight-and-narrow, nice-guy-and-a-future path, please-her-father-and-show-him-she-could-do-his-job path. She didn’t need any distractions, physically or mentally.
“What were you doing, anyway? Going through your underwear wardrobe, trying to figure out what to wear to entice him?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He ignored her. “Because, honey, just saying yes would be enough enticement for any heterosexual guy on the planet.”
Pleasure curled in her when she noted his sincerity. But she crushed it out, remembering she didn’t like this man who’d spied on her and gotten two eyes full of her private parts. Not to mention she’d sworn off hot men and this one was so on fire he should have a smoke detector strapped around his chest.
Offering her a sheepish grin, he added, “Look, I’m really sorry I spied on you. I wasn’t there for more than a minute. To be honest, I was caught off guard. I just didn’t know what to do.”
“Going back out the way you came in would have been good.”
