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“Oh, no, no, that’s not happening. Not when I’ve gotten this far, no way am I canceling now,” Georgette said in a sing-song voice as they walked off, heels clicking on the mosaic stone floor. “I’ve got a bet on that I’ll still be dating you at New Year’s. I need a shot of us together at the Spencer mansion. You’re my ticket to the Feehan wedding....”
Her voice faded out, telling Paula they’d gone on ahead.
Stumbling forward, she bumped smack into something. “Arck!” A squinting glare revealed the long, broad back of her tall neighbor, which had come to an abrupt halt. The man shot her a distracted glance over his shoulder before turning back to his companion.
“Is that so?” he seethed. “Then by all means, allow me to do it for you, Georgette. You are hereby uninvited. I’ll take someone else instead.”
Paula heard the redhead’s outraged gasp. Luckily, she managed to escape in the direction of the coffee shop before it turned into a full-fledged scream that echoed throughout the entire lobby.
WITH STEAMING TRIPLE ESPRESSO IN HAND, Paula finally began to truly wake up. Lifting the sacred liquid to her mouth, she thanked the barista and headed back through the lobby back to the small bank of elevators.
Her timing was unfortunate. Mister jerkabilly neighbor was there, slumped against the wall. Big surprise: he was all alone now. There was no sign of his companion. He had his arms folded across his chest, his gaze directed sullenly down at the floor.
It didn’t take a genius to see the incident with his girlfriend had put him in a foul mood. Was she sorry for him? Maybe just a teeny bit.
But only a little. Mostly she was annoyed that somebody so unfriendly had to be so persistently good-looking. The early hour didn’t even make an impression on that face. Not only did it look like it had been carved from a statue of a Roman god, but his clothes were exceptional, too.
That pale yellow shirt managed not to look like any normal old yellow color; no, it looked classy and expensive and tapered down beautifully from that broad chest to that improbably trim abdomen.
Was the chesttoobroad? Were the abstoodeveloped? Of course not, they had to be of ideal proportions. And Georgette’s comments about his butt in the elevator were, sadly, right on. He was an absolute fashionista with those tailored slacks outlining perfect masculine contours; it was like putting icing on top of icing. Overkill. According to a tongue-in-cheek piece on theFunTimes’ gossip website she’d once read, this man’s butt had won international awards.
It only jibed with Paula’s initial impression. The first time she’d seen him, she’d started coughing, positive she was looking at one of her favorite Hollywood actors. Until his low voice and brusque behavior had taught her the only thing he had in common with the original studmuffin was his bone structure. This man was a rude, snobbish jerk who didn’t deserve the looks he’d been blessed with.
Paula scowled as she tasted the scalding-hot liquid. Sweet and smoky, it was heaven to her soul and a welcome distraction from the uncomfortable silence of the two of them ignoring each other.
When the bell finally gave a delicate ding and the doors slid open, the man hung back, waiting for her to go first. She strolled on without a word.
She took a spot in the far corner, heard him enter and the doors slide shut. She saw no reason to keep her eyes open. The very idea that this man might chance to glance her way made her smirk. Sure, he’d notice her. And the moon was a great big marshmallow and puppy dog bitches laid flying eggs….
Even if the man did allow himself to notice her, her existence would hardly register in that arrogant mind. If he strained hard it might occur to him that hey, there’s something familiar about this woman. He might even place her as the only non-white person living on his floor.
Or he might not. It was far more likely he’d stare right through her the way he always did.
The guy was unreal. In all their encounters, he’d never so much as given Paula the time of day. Not even when she’d literally asked for it when her phone had lost power.
The perplexing thing was, he wasn’t rude to everyone. Nope, as far as she could tell, it was just her. Fate had apparently decreed that she be a non-person to him.
It had been that way since the beginning. She didn’t know what she’d ever done to him. Be cheerful? Smile? It wasn’t like he didn’t know what good manners were. She’d seen him schmoozing all over town.
It was possible it could it be skin. It was always a possibility. Though the data was conflicting there. From what she could gather, his crowd was mixed. He hung out with the group of insular old-money socialites the city was known for, and they were not exactly monochromatic. He was also seen with elite techies and investors, many of them internationals. But all that meant nothing
He could always have a problem withherskin. Hers was a deep, rich color like her mother’s. People still existed who judged by skin depth. People like Ryan the Dingbat, her last boyfriend. If not for that one conversation, she’d never have known his real thoughts. Her neighbor here could have all sorts of crazy ideas.
Or maybe that attitude was all about money. Her wardrobe of upscale clothing was currently gathering dust in her closet. These days she liked to dress casually. But even if her neighbor had seen her dressed up, those duds might not measure up to his standards. He had to be able to tell that she, like most of New Highland, wasn’t anywhere near his financial bracket.
Maybe you had to drive a fancy car like all the rich set did. Or be a suckup. Jennifer often accused her of lacking the suckup gene. It was true, she wasn’t one; when she came up against a wall, she was more of a trounce-you-with-logic opponent. That’s what came of having two opinionated older brothers.
Whatever was going on with him, it was what it was. She’d learned her lesson. No more honoring the man with her sunny smiles and give-everyone-a-chance attitude. Never once had he returned even one of those smiles in the whole six months she’d lived in Leo’s condo.
The first time, Paula had forgiven him, telling herself everyone had an off day. The next time, she’d told herself the same thing. And the next. Eventually she had to accept that nobody had that many off days. In hindsight, she regretted giving him all those chances. Still, it was hard to credit that anyone would be that rude intentionally.
But the data didn’t lie. This guy clearly meant to reject her, and her in particular.
She had to admit, rejection wasn’t something she often encountered, and it burned. But ultimately she told herself she was glad. He wanted nothing to do with her? Good. She wanted nothing to do with privileged asshats who formed snap judgments. Ergo, she was more than happy to pretend he didn’t exist.
Which was why today she did not acknowledge him by so much as a flicker of an eyelash or a turn of the neck.
“Good morning,” said his low, deep voice.
