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Paul’s instincts were on high alert as he stared at the closed door. He’d come across plenty of fugitives in his work as an undercover narcotics cop and knew people in hiding when he saw them. Chelsey Reynolds sounded false and clearly wasn’t her real name. He knew it would do no good to search it since the name was so new she couldn’t even remember it. But Liv. Now that was real. So why had she trusted him with it when she obviously trusted no one?
Paul swiped a hand over his short hair and grimaced. He was never so awkward around women. This one made him say stupid things and act like an idiot. He couldn’t believe he commented on her hair color. No wonder she beat a hasty retreat. If she ever spoke to him again, he would be surprised. So what was it about this leggy brunette that made him nuts? But she wasn’t really a brunette, was she? She was definitely hot - thin but poised. He could tell she was conscious of her body’s movement and strength, as if every step was placed with precision, despite her slight limp. She was poetry in motion. He wondered what happened to her leg. There was a lot of mystery surrounding his new neighbor.
He’d taken every opportunity to cross her path during the last week since she moved in – and she’d moved in with very little. A couple of bags in hand and that was it. He’d gone jogging three times a day just on the chance of encountering her and he even left his door wide open – just in case she needed something. She hadn’t.
Now that he’d finally seen her up close he realized she was even more stunning than he first thought. She had beautiful green eyes with tiny flecks of brown. They were wary eyes but sharp. He could tell she didn’t miss much – even though she’d forgotten her own name. That slip really upset her. Her dark brow had puckered with frustration and her lips pressed in a thin line. He wanted to reassure her it was no big deal, she didn’t have to worry about him. But she didn’t know that yet, did she? He could tell she was stressed and afraid. Her bow shaped lips made him want to kiss her and tell her everything would be okay. But there were other things he noticed besides her very kissable mouth. Her fingers were long and her hands were expressive. Every move she made was elegant. She was a little too thin but he could get over it. She had him intrigued and he hadn’t felt this way for a very long time.
Not since Jodee.
He grimaced at the memory of the cute little informant who’d pushed things too far, thinking she was invincible and got caught in something she couldn’t escape. When she died Paul knew he was done working undercover. He resigned from the police force after testifying. So what was he doing now, hanging around a woman who was running from trouble? He had no business digging into her secrets, especially since there were enough skeletons in his own closet to fill a cemetery.
But she was easy on the eyes, and she needed a knight in shining armor.
“Leave the puzzle alone, man,” he muttered to himself as he moved to his door and pushed inside. But he knew he wouldn’t take his own advice. After grabbing a protein shake he went to his computer to do a little investigating.
While Paul was doing a search on his new neighbor, Olivia had changed into a leotard and leg warmers and was going through some basic ballet drills. One of the reasons she’d rented this condo was because it came furnished, but she loved the hardwood floors. They reminded her of her first dance studio where the floors weren’t perfectly smooth, but that’s where she’d fallen in love with dance. Her teacher, Tatyana Rashnikov, had been a Russian ballerina in the sixties before coming to the States. She must have seen something special in the little girl with blonde braids and long gangly limbs. She spent extra time and pushed Olivia harder than all the others. Even now Olivia could remember her teacher’s sharp corrections. She sounded mean but her eyes always twinkled with approval. Olivia earned a lot of blisters for those tiny signs of approval.
Eager to get moving, Olivia shoved all the furniture in the living room back against the wall. She needed all the space she could get. Then she located some classical music on the antiquated stereo. She did this every day after work – and every day since leaving Ethan.
She loved ballet and she'd been good at it. A principal dancer. She'd earned her way into the position, one promotion at a time with plenty of blood, sweat, and tears. Even though the fall ended her career and almost ruined Bret’s as well, not even Ethan could take away the pride she felt for all she'd accomplished. He knew she kept that pride tucked away in a secret place he couldn't touch and he hated it.
Slowly she eased into the familiar drills. The moves were painful and soothing at the same time – like therapy. Her hip screamed but the rest of her muscles fell into the easy repetition of the routine. She let her mind drift back to the days where she would line up against the barre with the other students and Tatyana would call out each move in rapid succession as she pounded the floor with her walking stick. Olivia’s limbs went through the motions by memory. Soon all the fear and tension and struggles fell away as she got lost in her workout. She could feel the pulse in the music and matched her steps to the beat. Sweat poured down her back and between her breasts. Her now-dark hair hung in her eyes. She toweled off her face and took a sip of water before hitting the drills again. She couldn’t go for a jog yet but she could do a perfectly turned out passé despite her injury.
Her feeling of exhilaration made her push herself a little too hard. She tried the solo she performed in the last show of her career. The footwork was complicated and she had to go easy on the jumps. Even with the modifications her hip gave out and she fell hard against the wall.
Thirty seconds later there was a knock against her door. “Hey, Liv, you okay in there?” Paul called through the door. When she didn’t immediately answer he knocked again. “Liv? Answer me!”
Olivia sagged against the wall to catch her breath and tried to decide if she was going to answer or not. She didn’t want to encourage her neighbor even though she really appreciated his kindness in checking on her. Finally, she limped over to the door and threw it open.
“Hi Paul,” she greeted between deep breaths as she toweled off her face and neck. She probably looked like a crazy woman drenched as she was. But she felt great.
“Working out?” he asked with a raised brow. He still looked a little worried.
She nodded and grinned. “Yeah. I’m sure it sounded like I was coming through the wall. I lost my balance.”
He peered over her shoulder at the furniture pushed back. “Looks like you could use a barre mounted to the wall.”
Olivia stiffened. “Why would you think I need something like that?”
Paul shrugged but she could see he was still doing the math on her and she didn’t like the scrutiny. “Leotard. Classical music. My kid sister took ballet lessons for years. I guess I just assumed.”
She nodded and decided it was best to end the conversation immediately. “I’m no ballerina,” Not anymore. “Thanks for checking on me, Paul.” She quickly closed the door before he could ask anything else and she divulged even more secrets.
THREE
“Hey neighbor,” Paul greeted as he stood outside his door and sipped his coffee. It was early but he knew Liv would be leaving for work soon. He was shameless with this crush he had on her, and she probably ought to report him for stalking but he couldn’t help it. He’d given her a few days of peace even though he listened for her classical music every afternoon and waited to see if she injured herself again. Of course he would have rushed right over like a knight in shining armor and she’d probably slam the door in his face again because she wasn’t interested. But she never injured herself so he kept to himself and tried to think up other ways to get to know his reclusive neighbor.
He heard Liv’s sharp intake of breath and silently cursed himself for scaring her yet again. She was so jumpy that he couldn’t do anything without startling her. “Morning,” she murmured in her sweet husky voice and gave him a nod before hurrying down the walkway to her car. They were making progress. And in a million years she might let him take her on a date.
/> He watched her hurry to her beat-up commuter car. Her limp was a little more pronounced today and he suspected she pushed herself too hard with her workout yesterday. He again wondered how she injured herself. Car accident?
Liv got her old silver Honda unlocked and slipped inside. He listened to her try to start it. It clicked several times but never turned over. He could see her look of frustration as she paused and tried again.
She needed help and he was the guy to do it.
Paul set his coffee mug on the step and jogged over to help. He approached from the front so she could see him coming. He was tired of scaring her. She rolled down the window as he came near. “The dumb thing won’t start,” she huffed with a slap on the wheel. “And I’m going to be late for work.”
Paul peered at the dash. All the lights were on and the stereo hummed with static so the battery wasn’t dead. “Maybe it’s your starter.”
