He leaned against the elevator wall, hazel eyes framed by long lashes no man deserved to be born with, giving her the once over. Bedroom eyes. Cute. Smoldering. An image of him, naked, tangled in her sheets, rose unbidden.
What the hell, Melinda?
They stood in silence, Melinda staring at the numbers lighting up as the lift rose, the weight of his stare burning holes in the side of her face.
Why is the lift so damn slow today?
She risked another peek. The man could be a bodyguard, with all that muscle. Or a bouncer. Or an underwear model. He’d look good in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. That bronze skin, the dark shadow on his jaw. Would he have a happy trail?
Or…He could be a private investigator, or a thug sent to intimidate the location of her client out of her.
Or not. Those jeans were snug, and there was no evidence he was concealing a weapon. Her gaze dipped to his crotch. Shedoubted he’d be hiding a gun there. At least, not the type of gun she was imagin— She cut the thought off, sucking in a deep breath of aftershave.
He pushed himself off the wall, and her gaze followed the flex of muscles across his abdomen up his chest and…Oops.Busted.Heat crept up her neck, and she turned away, but not before she caught the flare of his nostrils, and… Was that a…growl?
The lift dinged, lurched to a halt, and the door slid open. Melinda dipped her head at him, escaped the confined space and strode down the corridor as if she did, truly, live on this floor. As soon as the lift doors slid shut, she raced for the stairs. Above her, a door closed, then she was alone in the cool stairwell.
With her laptop on the top step and the click of a few commands, Melinda logged into her secure wireless router and pulled up the security feed from the ninth floor.
There he is.
Without a glance at her door, he continued down the corridor to one at the end.Huh. Old Mrs. Bellamy had moved out last week. Her kids must have finally put her into that care home they’d been pushing for. Hewasn’tfollowing her? He was her newneighbor?
On the grainy security feed, he shifted his coffee and his pastry bag to one hand and retrieved his key.
Wait. What?
Melinda froze the image. He held a takeaway coffee cup and a pastry bag. And there, as obvious as the bulge in his pants had been, was a naked wrist. Thiswasn’tthe guy in the lift. He wasn’t wearing an Excalibur watch.
What the hell?
She tapped a few keys and unfroze the image. Mr. No-Watch was gone—the door to Mrs. Bellamy’s flat closed—but striding down the hallwasthe guy from the lift. Mr. Excalibur. She heaved out a sigh. Twins. Her new neighbors, they were twins.But the question remained—what was a man doing living in this building when he could afford to spend two hundred and fifty thousand pounds on awatch?
Chapter Two
Pierre leaned against their apartment door and closed his eyes, the enticing scent of their target hacker clinging to his nostrils. A deep rumble threatened in his chest and his cock pressed against the zipper of his jeans. She was a tiny little thing, barely reaching his shoulder, but there was a fierceness about her, a boldness in her gaze, and a stubborn tilt to her chin that had nearly had him pushing her up against the wall and fucking her in the damn elevator.
Putain.That was more Louis’ style than his. He shook his head, tamped down on his wayward dick and strode down the hall to where Louis was munching away on his latest foray into Britishgâteaux.
Louis licked his lips and held out the sticky confection. “Chelsea bun. Want some?”
He screwed up his nose. His brother was determined to work his way through every unique variation of what passed for pastry here in London. It was lucky he was a shifter or his penchant for all things food, especially of the sweet variety, would see him wider than thePlace de la Concorde.
His twin shrugged. “D’accord.More for me. Yourcaféis on the table.”
Louis flopped on the hideous floral couch. Convincing the previous tenant to sell up, furniture and all, had been a boon—as long as they were willing to put up with nineteen-forties old-lady décor. Pierre needed a decentcaféto face it each morning.Thankfully, thepâtisseriedown the street catered to both his and Louis’ needs.
Pierre sucked down a fortifying gulp of caffeine and joined his brother on the couch. “You ran into her in thepâtisserie?”
“Oui, and while I’d love to say she was admiring my ass while I was making my selection, I’m more confident she was sizing me up as a threat.”
Pierre had had the same thought in the elevator. Although, there had beensomeinterest. His cock perked up. “She’s a hacker. She’s bound to be wary. And she did detect our malware.”
Louis smirked. “Not quick enough. Not before we got what we needed.”
“What else do we know about our little Black Hat, Melinda Cheng?”
“Mm, not so much a Black Hat as a White Hat. Maybe. I did a little research on that building you said she went into.” Louis flipped open his laptop and pulled up an image of the nondescript block of apartments she’d visited this morning. “Turns out it’s a women’s refuge. Not as well hidden as they would like to believe. It’s government funded.”
