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I don’t give her a chance to respond. Instead, I step closer. “Are you headed home?”
“I am.” Her gaze shifts to the steady stream of traffic behind me. “I’ve been trying to flag down a taxi, but no luck.”
I punch my fingers over the screen of my phone. “An Uber is on its way to pick us up.”
“Us?” She blinks at me.
I reach for the handle of her suitcase, brushing my fingers over hers. “We live on the same block, Ms. Walsh. It makes sense to share a ride, no?”
“Yes,” she whispers, glancing down at where our hands are still touching. “Please call me Dexie.”
Innocence flickers in her expression as her gaze meets mine again. Standing this close to her is different than staring at her across the bridge of distance that separates my apartment from hers.
I see vulnerability in her eyes that I hadn’t noticed before.
“Dexie it is,” I say as her hand drops from the handle of the suitcase when a dark SUV pulls up to the curb. “This is our ride.”
She nods in silence as she steps toward the car. I open the back passenger door for her before I load her suitcase in the back and take the spot in the front next to the driver.
She needs space. I can sense it.
I’ll give it to her now, but I have every intention of buying this woman dinner tonight so we can discuss not only our potential business deal but the intense attraction that has been luring us to our windows at night.
Chapter 16
Dexie
I try to exit the SUV with as much poise as I can muster, even though keeping the skirt of my dress below panty level shouldn’t matter at this point.
Rocco Jones has seen a lot of my body.
I watch as he retrieves Sophia’s heavy suitcase from the back of the vehicle.
We’re in front of my building. That should offer me some relief, but it doesn’t.
When I go up to my apartment and flick on the light switch, he’ll be able to see me through the three large arched windows.
It was a fun and flirtatious game just a few nights ago, but now that we’ve met, it’s different.
The game is over. This is reality.
“Are you free for dinner?” Rocco asks as he sets the suitcase down on the sidewalk next to him. “Do you like French food?”
I haven’t caught my breath since I looked up in the waiting room to see him standing there. Spending more time with him tonight feels like too much.
I need time alone, preferably in a place where he can’t watch me.
My bathtub.
I can close the bathroom door, turn on soft music and try and process what happened today.
I take a deep breath, sorting my response in my head. I don’t want to be rude, but the man has to know that I’m freaking the hell out on the inside, even if I appear somewhat calm on the outside.
“Rocco!”
He turns in the direction of the female voice calling his name. I follow his gaze across the street to where the brunette who was in his apartment the other night is standing, her hand waving in the air. Tonight she’s dressed in faded jeans and a white blouse. The black stilettos on her feet transform the outfit from ordinary to sophisticated.
She looks to the left and then the right before she darts out between two parked cars. Her steps are measured and elegant as she closes the distance between her and Rocco.
