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“Iamsomeone,” he muttered.
I gave him the side-eye as I inched around him. “Sir, not like in the philosophical sense. I mean a person to get us out of here.”
He looked at me as if I had grown another head and pulled out his phone. I stepped closer to the doors. There was no way I wanted to spend another second trapped in here with him taking up so much space. My throat tightened, and I swallowed, focusing on my breathing.Breathe in. One… two… three. Breathe out. One… two… three. Breathe in… and out.
He lifted his head from his phone and peered at me. “Are you OK?” His voice was soft, not as snippy as it had been seconds ago. “It’s OK, we’re not stuck.”
I gripped the railing and tried to appear casual, unbothered, as I let out another shaky breath.
He stood in front of me, closer than I should have allowed. Gray eyes pierced mine, his phone held against his head. “Just breathe.” I leaned in closer and breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth. “That’s good. Nice and easy,” he murmured, as if talking to a wild animal. “Again.” He breathed with me as I relaxed.
OK, so maybe he wasn’t just some rich jerk. I knew better than most not to judge a book by its cover. We were inches apart, our breathing in rhythm. My body warmed as his eyes pierced mine, and I decided I might not mind being stuck in an elevator with him.
A muffled voice coming from the other end of his phone brought me back to reality, and I looked away as I tried to regain my composure.
“I’m in zone P2. Why are we stopped?” His voice was filled with authority. Did he always sound like this? So commanding? I bet he was bossy in the bedroom as well.
Stop it, Nova.
I rubbed my forehead and tried to think of anything other than the compromising positions he could put me in. This was what happened when you hadn’t gotten laid in over nine months. Every interaction with the opposite sex could become something dirty.
He didn’t take his eyes off me, his lips in a flat line. “Someone left the parking gate open?” He gave me a pointed look, and I closed my eyes. I had been so focused on getting my suitcase out of the rental car that I had forgotten to shut the gate. “Send someone to close it and bring the elevator back down.”
Just like that, the elevator started moving. My shoulders relaxed and I let out the breath I had been holding in.
Wait, that made little sense. “Why would the elevator stop working if the parking gate was left open?”
“It’s a security issue.” Gone was the soft soothing voice. Back was the scowling face with the annoyed tone. “Who exactly are you here to visit?” His eyes narrowed, looking me up and down, as if truly seeing me for the first time.
I got that look a lot. Mostly from uptight businessmen who worked with my father, and their stuck-up wives whose idea of a good time entailed mimosas at the garden club at nine a.m. every morning. It was usually the tattoos that set them off. My body, my canvas. I straightened up and pulled my shoulders back. “What I’m doing here is none of your business.” I knew all about his type. Give a man a little money and he thought he was king of the world.
“Actually”—he crossed his arms against his chest—“what goes on in my buildingismy business.”
I rolled my eyes, dragging my suitcase closer to my side. “Yeah, OK, you own the building. Sure.” Was I supposed to believe this guy was Ryzen Goodacre, owner of Goodacre Estates? Real estate mogul who owned half of Chicago? This youngish, sexy, jerky guy was supposed to be him? “You own this one and I own the one next door, buddy. Nice try.”
His smile got bigger as he ran his thumb across his bottom lip. “Impossible, considering I own that one, too.” He stared at me expectantly, as if waiting for another smart-ass remark. I remained silent, and he took that as an invitation to keep talking. “Look, there are rules when you enter this building. Rules that need to be followed—even if you are a lady of the night.” He waved his hand up and down my body and back to my suitcase.
My mouth fell open, heat rushing up my neck to my cheeks. “Lady of the night? Are we in the 1950’s?” I wheezed out a laugh. “You mean to tell me”—I took a step forward and pointed my finger at him—“the only reason a young woman could be in this building is because she’s a prostitute?” My voice rose as I pressed my finger against his chest. “I couldn’t possibly live in this building, right? Or be a successful businesswoman? Because the hem of my skirt ends three inches above my knee, is that it?” I emphasized each word with a poke.
His smile faltered, eyebrows drawn together. “I didn’t mean to offend.” He reached up and gently lowered my finger with his hand. “I just assumed because of all the sexual devices. My apologies.”
I opened my mouth, ready to take the conversation to a childhood level with the good old “you know what happens when you assume things—you make an ass out of you and me” retort, but a yelp came out instead as the elevator jerked again, dropping us with a thud to the ground from about five inches up.
He wrapped his arms around me tightly as I lost my footing and stumbled into him. I gripped the lapels of his jacket as I tried to steady myself. Of all the elevators in all the buildings in the world, I’d had to step into this one tonight. My face heated as our bodies pressed against each other. We had been in this elevator all of five minutes and I’d been up close and personal with him for almost the entire time. He smiled down at me, and I noticed a dimple in his left cheek. Damn, that was a gorgeous dimple.
You know when things aren’t going as planned, and you ask yourself,What could possibly make this situation worse?Yeah, don’t do that. Don’t shout questions out to the universe, because it will answer, and chances are you won’t like the response.
Case in point, as we stood there pressed against each other, the elevator doors swooshed open. A figure stood there dressed in all black. There was a bright flash pointed at us and a series of clicks as someone started taking photos with a phone.
Mr. Dimples body tensed against mine, and he cursed under his breath. Just as soon as they had appeared, they were gone.
I leaned back, blowing my hair out of my face. “What in the James Bond was that?”
He looked between me and the person retreating before dropping his arms and sprinting after them.
I took that as my cue to get the hell out of there. The last thing I needed was to be standing around an empty parking garage while some pervert snapped pictures of me. I grabbed my suitcase by the handle, making sure my makeshift knot was secure, and dragged it to the doors. The chase was nothing but a blur as I peeked my head around the corner. There was another elevator thirty feet away, in the opposite direction to the one they had run in, and I made a beeline for it. I pressed the button for the twentieth floor and held my breath as the elevator started moving without incident.
Exhaustion hit me like a ton of bricks by the time I made it to my floor, my eyelids heavy. There were only two units per floor, separated by a long hallway that curved at the end, giving the appearance of having the entire floor to yourself. One of the many attractions of the building, as it provided a sense of privacy in a busy downtown neighborhood.
