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Of all the men I kept arrangements with, there would always be something special about Micah. Dark skinned, quiet, sophisticated, with eyes full of secrets. He’d been my first Daddy and would probably be my last. Of all the Daddies I kept, he remained the only one with whom I shared a special bond. He’d be the hardest to leave.
He never smiled, but he also never failed to express praise. As my leading client, he taught me how to be one of the best sugar babies in the city. I let him get away with more than my other clients ever would.
The doorman called up at precisely five fifty-nine. “Miss Johansson, you have a guest in the lobby.”
“Thank you. Please send him up.” Micah would always be welcomed past the front desk. It was his name on the lease, after all.
Collecting my wrap and slipping on my heels, I met him at my door. “Always on time.”
“Avery.” He took my fingers in his hand and pulled me into a slow twirl. “You never fail to impress me. Gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” I allowed him to adjust my wrap and press a kiss to my cheek.
I couldn’t help permitting the kiss. Micah could easily make me beam with pride. Mature and debonair, he defined a class act.
“Shall we?”
Not once did he try for more than my company. He wasn’t in a relationship. And, aside from being married to his job, he led a fairly uncomplicated life. I believed our simplistic arrangement survived three years because of its uncomplicated nature.
I trusted him, something I didn’t do easily. He encouraged and guided me in the gentlest manner possible. And, in a way, I believed he depended on me, too. Men like Micah didn’t rely on many people, something we had in common.
He took my keys as we exited the apartment, and I waited as he fastened the locks. My gaze snagged on the moving dial above the elevator, and my heart stuttered.
Someone was coming.
There were only two of us on this floor, so chances of it being Noah were pretty high. His imminent approach filled me with an uncomfortable emotion, one I struggled to identify and had a hard time hiding from my date.
Micah passed me my keys, and I tucked them into my clutch just as the doors to the elevator parted. My breath escaped in a relieved sigh as a man I didn’t recognize entered the hall. The scent of Chinese food wafted from the brown bag he carried, and I knew we only had a few seconds before my neighbor opened his door.
Set on avoiding Noah, very aware of the things he made me feel, the way he looked at me like he wanted to taste me, the way something dark awakened inside of me when I felt his stare on my body—and all the ways we were incompatible, I kept my gaze down. I didn’t need complications and Noah couldn’t be anything else.
I had my own game I wanted to play—be the untouchable goddess across the hall. When the game changed, I didn’t want to play anymore.
Noah was the sort of man who looked comfortable in designer clothes, drove a beautiful garage-kept car, and seemed used to getting his way. The opposite of my type. So why was I obsessed with him?
He was the sort of man I accepted as a client, not the sort I invited into my bed. But, oh, to tie him to my bed…
Never. Going. To. Happen.
Noah was dangerous. If I kept reminding myself of that, the warning might sink in.
Micah rested a familiar hand on the base of my spine as we entered the elevator and turned.
The deliveryman knocked, and Noah’s door opened. My breath drew deep and held as my neighbor stepped into the hall.
Noah’s potent blue gaze clashed with mine, and the world went utterly still.
“Is everything okay?” Micah’s stare needled at my side, but my gaze remained locked with Noah’s, trapped in that sticky stillness.
No babies were born, no tears were shed, no birds flapped their wings, and no wind blew. Eerily motionless, time stuttered for that shared second between us, and the moment belonged to only us, no one else could touch it.
And then the spell broke, snapping like a stretch of elastic pulled too far. All of the energy in between lagged and drooped as his gaze drifted over my gown and lifted to Micah.
Noah’s lips firmed, and I could taste his displeasure. Not my problem, I reminded myself. I had a job to do, and doing my neighbor wasn’t part of it. And I didn’t do guilt.
Micah leaned forward to press the button.
We shared an address, nothing more. I had no business behaving like some starry-eyed tween and knew better. If he knew who I really was, he’d know better, too.
