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My mobile chimes just as I grasp the doorknob. I have a new text message.
Fumbling with the mobile, I open the new text. My brother Rory says, "It's done. Final decree in."
A relieved sigh rushes out of me. Thank God. I'm free of Aisley at last.
With my hand still curled around the doorknob, I stuff the mobile into my pocket. Maybe I should go back into the living room and shut the curtains. Ignore the sexy woman next door. Hide indoors until she leaves for work. She must have a job, right? I could ask her when I go over there to apologize for last night.
I don't need to know anything about her. I don't need to be friends with her. Aisley taught me everything I need to know about the folly of tying my life to a woman's. I will never go down that road again. Never.
But I should apologize to Erica. In the name of neighborliness.
Aye, it has nothing to do with her sensual body.
I march out the door and straight to Erica's house.
The door swings open before I can knock. Erica yelps, jerking in surprise, while she grips the leash of the dog that stands beside her.
I smile. "Morning, neighbor."
The dog flings his entire body at me, his front paws slamming into my thighs.
When was the last time I petted a dog? Or saw a dog? I can't remember, but I do love animals. So I scratch the dog behind his ears, and the pup licks my arm.
I look at Erica, who still seems stunned. "Aren't you happy to see me?"
Erica seizes the dog's collar and drags him backward. "Are you stalking me?"
"Stalking?" I scratch my cheek, wondering how to explain my presence here. I decide the truth is best. "I thought to follow you last night to make sure you were all right, but you took off so bloody fast. Might not believe it, but I am an honorable man."
A panicked laugh hiccups out of her. "Honorable? Stalking is a crime, buddy."
The dog hops up and down on his front feet, his tongue lolling.
Well, at least I've won over the pup. Now, if I can only convince Erica I'm not a stalker…
I shouldn't care what she thinks. I'm making sure she's all right after our encounter last night, nothing more.
"Erica," I begin, but stop when she eyes me with suspicion again. I raise my hands, palms out. "I'm trying to be friendly."
"Go creep out some other random girl you hunted down online." She pushes the dog out of the threshold with her foot and pulls the door halfway closed. "Leave me alone, Cliff."
Erica slams the door in my face. Literally. It misses my nose by an inch at most.
Did she just call me Cliff? That's not my name. Did I ever tell her my name last night? No, I don't think I did. We're having a misunderstanding of some sort.
I clear my throat and shout at the door, "Who the bloody hell is Cliff?"
On the other side of the door, I hear what sounds like a security chain being disengaged, and the door eases open a few inches. Erica peeks out at me through the small gap, still seeming wary—but with a hint of curiosity too.
I lift one brow. "Cliff?"
"Who are you?"
I offer her my hand. "Lachlan MacTaggart. I moved in next door yesterday. Housesitting for my friend, Gil Friedman, as an excuse for a holiday in America. Gil told me about you—your name and how much he and his new bride like you."
She stares at my hand, blinking slowly, like she's trying to make sense of things. Then she clasps my hand, lifting her gaze to mine.
I close my fingers around hers. A strange sensation crackles through me, like electricity, but it vanishes as quickly as it came. I am not excited to touch her again. That would be barmy.
