She Did a Bad, Bad Thing. Stephanie Bond
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“What was that?” Kayla asked.
“Nothing,” he said, feeling like a heel as he lifted his beer to drain it. “Maybe you should go—I have to be in court in the morning and I still have some files to go through.”
Kayla pouted. “Okay. When will I see you again?”
“Soon,” he promised, escorting her back inside and toward the door. He lowered a perfunctory kiss on her mouth, and shepherded her out into the hall, sending her off with a wave.
Then he paused and looked at his neighbor’s door, wondering if he should apologize, how he could apologize for calling her a…He squinted to remember.
A homely little geek who’s probably never had a good lay.
He cringed, thinking that no matter how mousy the woman was, she didn’t deserve that kind of put-down. His mother had raised him better than that.
Perry pulled on his chin and vowed to find a way to make it up to Jane what’s-her-name…somehow.
3
THE NEXT MORNING, Jane stepped out into the hallway and set down a bag of garbage so she could lock her condo door. She blinked rapidly to focus on the lock through the sunglasses—ridiculous, but necessary to hide her gritty, puffy eyes. Her new neighbor and his girlfriend would get a good belly laugh if they knew that their offhand remarks about her sad little life had caused her a sleepless night of crying into her pillow. She was quite sure she was so insignificant to them that they wouldn’t even recall what they’d said.
While she struggled to slide the key into the keyhole, her new neighbor’s door opened, to her dismay. She didn’t look up, just stabbed at the keyhole as a flush raced up her neck and face.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Morning,” she murmured, keeping her back to him.
“Having problems?”
“No.” She set her jaw and tried to steady her hand, but she continued to fumble.
Suddenly a large hand closed over hers gently. “Let me.”
She stiffened, but relinquished the key and stepped back from his big body just to escape his touch. She turned, expecting to see his girlfriend loitering nearby, but he was alone, and dressed in a suit as best as she could tell through her dark lenses. His briefcase sat on the floor next to her garbage bag.
The deadbolt clicked. Then he turned and handed her the keys, flashing a smile.
“Thanks,” she muttered.
“Hey, no wonder you couldn’t see,” he said with a laugh. “What’s up with the shades?”
And before she realized what he was doing, he had lifted them from her face. She blinked at the sudden light and grabbed to retrieve the glasses, mortified for him to see her swollen, red-rimmed eyes. If he thought she was homely yesterday, this morning she was downright ugly.
She saw him blanch before she jammed the dark glasses back on her face. “Allergies,” she murmured, then reached for her garbage.
“I got that,” he said, snatching up the bag. “Actually, you can show me where I need to put my trash.”
She didn’t say anything, just nodded, and walked down the hall to the garbage chute. “There,” she said, pointing. “See you later.”
She veered off toward the stairs, thinking he’d take the elevator. Instead, after dropping the garbage, he followed her down the stairs.
“Hey, I’m sorry again about the noise last night,” he said. “I didn’t realize the walls were so thin.”
She didn’t respond—she knew Perry Brewer’s type. He’d throw a few nice words her way, then ask her to be home to sign for his furniture delivery. Jane picked up the pace and managed to reach the parking garage first.
“I didn’t get your last name,” he said a few paces behind her.
She rolled her eyes—as if he remembered her first name.
He caught up to her and gave her a little smile.
“Come on, we’re neighbors—I should know your last name.”
“It’s Kurtz. Goodbye.” She strode past her empty parking spot toward the guest parking area, relieved to be away from him, although she could feel his gaze boring into her back, surveying her chinos, yellow polo shirt, black Skechers sneakers and ponytail. Was he fascinated in her as a geeky specimen?
When she reached her car, she groaned to see a sizable dent in her driver’s side door, obviously caused by the door of another car that was long gone. She removed her dark glasses and bent to run her hand over the dent—her car was old, but she tried to take good care of it. To add insult to injury, she realized suddenly that her back tire was flat, caused, no doubt, by the nail sticking out of it. A handful of nails lay scattered around the back of her car, probably dropped by some maintenance worker who also parked in the guest area.
She blinked back hot tears—she didn’t need this. She’d overslept because she was so tired and was already running late.
At the sound of a car slowing, she turned her head to see the big, black SUV, and Perry leaning toward the lowered passenger side window.
“Need a ride?”
She wiped her eyes and jammed the glasses back on her face. “No, I’ll call a repair service.”
“That could take a while. I can drop you wherever you need to be.”
She massaged her temples—she just wanted the vile man to go away.
“I feel responsible,” he called, then leaned over and opened the passenger side door. “Let me do this.”
Jane stared at the open door. Then she glanced at her watch. It would mean the difference between her getting to work on time or throwing her entire day—and maybe the show—off schedule.
“Come on,” he cajoled. Jane decided it was the least he could do since his girlfriend was the root cause of her current predicament.
She walked over and took the hand he extended to climb into the SUV. His fingers were strong and warm as they enclosed hers. She clambered into the seat with an unladylike bounce, and tugged her hand from his. She closed the door and sat as close to it as possible while she put on her seatbelt. Perry was smiling at her like some kind of gallant knight in training. Even through the dark glasses, she could see he was more handsome in his suit than he’d been half-dressed last night. And she was surprised to discover that Nasty Boy had a professional job.
“Where am I taking you?” he asked.
She tore her gaze from him to stare straight ahead and gave him the street address.
“That’s the cable