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Work, damn it.
Her heart was pounding out of her damn chest. She jiggled the lock, but her fingers refused to grasp the too-small latch. “Damn it. Just hold on,” she yelled.
What if she didn’t get to him in time? His head could be bleeding out this very second.
She kicked at the gate and the impact was just what she needed. She used the back of her hand to slide the clasp and she pulled back the door so hard, it banged against the brick of the house behind her. “Are you all right?” she called out while running down the side of the house. “Should I call nine-one-one?” When she finally hit the backyard she stopped short. “What the…?”
“Hi, there.”
Instead of a body splattered across a concrete patio as she was expecting, she found her neighbor lounging on a trampoline. Which was what had caught his fall when he’d…Her brain spun with possibilities. She looked up at the roof. At the ladder that was propped up against the back of the house. At the trampoline. At the man. “Did you…did you fake falling off the roof?”
What kind of person would do that?
He just shrugged.
“Why would you fake falling off the roof?” Her voice was a couple octaves higher than normal. She grabbed at her chest. This was what a heart attack felt like. She was sure of it.
“How else was I going to get you to come over here?”
She was sure she felt her mouth hit the grass beneath her with a thud.
“I’ve lived here for three months and not so much as a hello.” He flashed a set of white teeth that sparkled against his tanned skin.
Sweet merciful heavens. Are those dimples?
“But I know you like watching from your window.”
Shit! He did see her watching him.
“I…well…I just wanted to make sure you didn’t fall and break your neck.” She shrugged, giving her best impression of nonchalance. “You don’t have a harness in place. It’s dangerous.”
Get yourself together. No man has ever tied your tongue.
His eyebrow quirked up. “How do you know about roof safety measures?”
He just lay there, his broad chest rising and falling with his steady breath. He was rugged. Masculine. With a shaved head and chocolate brown eyes that seemed to see right through her. Now that she was this close, she noticed his facial hair—at least two days’ worth of it. She’d never felt the hard scrape of stubble against her skin. She’d fantasized about it, even craved it occasionally.
Fuck. Rinse. Repeat.
Stop it. Get your head on straight. You’re not feeling anyone’s stubble between your legs.
She froze.
What? Who said anything about him being between your legs?
When she turned her attention back to him, he just stared at her in curiosity. His eyes zeroing in on her body caused her nipples to harden. But a heavy throb started in her hand, grounding her back to reality. She squeezed it tight then shook it out, trying to manage the discomfort. “That’s neither here nor there.”
“Neither here nor there?” He kicked out his legs, his butt bouncing on the trampoline as he made his way to the edge. “Let me guess…a degree in English or art history?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s a little judgmental.”
For the record, it was neither. She had a master’s in business administration.
He cocked his head. “You’re right. An English major probably wouldn’t be driving a Cayenne.” He winked, and she felt it…everywhere.
So she had a Porsche. It was a gift from her father. It’s not like she was going to ask him to take it back.
A slight breeze settled across her skin and goosebumps covered her legs. With a gasp, she crossed her arms over her chest and clamped her legs together. It was then that she realized she had run out of the house with no shoes and in tiny short-shorts. At least she had her torso covered. She’d been hiding herself under heavy sweaters and refusing to make eye contact for months. No need to prove she was as imperfect on the outside as she felt on the inside.
