out. “What are you doing here?”
The six-foot hunk from the fitting room incident stared at her in shock. “You!”
“I know!” This was just too bizarre, and Meg’s mind wouldn’t process it. Feeling weak, as if she might faint, she jerked back and slammed the door in his face.
“NO, DON’T—” Too late. Joe knocked hard on the freshly slammed door. “Hey, are you okay in there?” He waited. No answer. Well, now what? He stood in the breezeway, feeling the warm evening air wash over him. “Hello!” he called out again, concerned. “Are you all right?”
While he worried, another part of his brain worked on the fact that it was her—the really hot woman from the dressing room. Man, she certainly hadn’t lost anything in the translation. But this couldn’t be right. Hell, if he played these odds in Vegas, he’d own the town.
Looking for help, Joe turned around and peered over the iron railing to the pool, four floors below. He glanced at the lush, tropical landscaping with its lighted walkway meandering through the generous grounds and the park benches set at intervals throughout. There wasn’t a soul in sight. He turned to the door again and knocked. “Listen, if you don’t answer me right now, I’m going to get the manager to open this door. So if you can hear me—”
“I can hear you” came a muffled voice from the other side of the closed door. “And I’m all right. I just wasn’t expecting you to be here. I thought you were stupid Carl.”
Joe weighed that for significance. “Carl must have really messed up.”
“Oh, he did. Big time.”
Acutely conscious of how their semi-shouting match might appear to the neighbors, Joe stepped in closer and said, “Look, I think I can explain this if you’ll just open the door. You already know I’m not Carl, and I swear I’m not a stalker. Maury Seeger sent me.”
A moment of silence ensued. “Are you a hit man?”
Uncle Maury had obviously been spreading his Mafia stories. “No.”
“Would you tell me if you were?”
“Probably not. But, look, think about it for a minute. Didn’t Maury tell you to expect a visitor, one who isn’t a hit man?”
“Yes and no. What’s your name and where do you live?”
This was a test. “Joe Rossi, and I live in Denver.”
“What do you do there?”
“I’m a construction foreman.”
“Okay, what’s my name? And, yes, I know what it is. I want to see if you do.”
“I figured.” He extracted a piece of paper from his pants pocket and consulted it. “Meg Kendall?”
“Right. So, what are you doing here, Joe Rossi?”
“We have a date at seven.”
The door opened and the sexy brunette stood there, frowning. “We do not. It’s tomorrow night. And it’s not really a date. It’s just an outing. So to speak.”
“No, it’s tonight…whatever it is.” He could not get enough of looking at her. She just oozed an appealing mix of humor and sleepy sensuality…like a lazy Sunday afternoon spent in bed teasing and laughing and making love. Joe exhaled loudly. “Are you all right? I mean, you looked so shocked a minute ago—”
“Yeah, I’m okay. It was just such a surprise. But our…outing is still tomorrow night.”
Just as she had in the fitting room, she roved her gaze up and down his length, making Joe feel like a stud in the show ring. Far from offended, he had all he could do not to strike a manly weightlifting pose and flex his biceps for her. “And yet, here I am. Tonight.”
“I noticed. And you’re Maury Seeger’s nephew? Really?”
“No. I’m his great-nephew. My grandmother was his late wife’s sister.”
Still holding onto the doorknob, she said, “Sounds complicated.”
“What hasn’t been so far?”
“True. But just so you know—” she narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms “—I have pepper spray in my purse, and I’m not afraid to use it.”
That slowed Joe down for a second. “Okay. But you should know I carry a small Swiss Army knife, most of the functions of which I have no idea.”
While she digested that, Joe flicked his gaze up and down her, deciding she looked damn nice in pants. Long legs. She also filled out her T-shirt admirably. And her hair looked like she’d just climbed out of bed…and not in a bad way, either.
Because the silence between them was getting long and awkward, Joe said, “Tried on any good clothes lately?”
Her expression crumpled in amused embarrassment. “I cannot believe I did that. I am still absolutely mortified.”
Instantly charmed, Joe grinned. “It wasn’t all that bad, was it?”
She wagged a scolding finger at him. “Yes, it was. And I told you we couldn’t ever see each other again.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”
“True. But then you have to promise you will not, under any circumstances, ever bring up that incident again.”
Still feeling devilish, and pretty sure she could take a joke when it was on her, Joe replied, “You mean the part where you were half-naked in the men’s fitting rooms and poked your booty in my face?”
Crying out, she slapped at his arm—and missed because he danced back just in time. “I said don’t bring it up.”
Joe held up both hands in surrender. “Okay, it’s in the vault. I swear.”
“Good.” She relaxed enough to lean against the doorjamb and again cross her arms under her excellent breasts. He wished like hell she’d quit doing that and drawing his attention there. Or maybe he didn’t. “Seriously, what are you doing here tonight?” she said, drawing his attention back to her face. “Maury told me Saturday night.”
“And he told me tonight. He gets things wrong sometimes.”
Her expression radiated fond affection. “I know. But he’s such a sweet little man. Other than that, I don’t know what to say, Joe. I can’t really show you around Tampa tonight.” She turned just enough to look back inside her apartment before facing him again. “Or maybe I can. Or should. I don’t know. I don’t want to be here if…”
“Are we talking about Carl?”
She wrinkled her nose as if the man’s name smelled bad. “Yes. I told him not to come over, that I had plans—”
“Which didn’t include me.”
“Right. I have to return a dress.
