CHAPTER ONE

I can count the number of guys I’ve slept with on one hand. I can count the number of guys I’ve wanted to sleep with on one finger. Moreover, that man is on his way to my apartment right now. However, if I end up having sex with Danny tonight, I have my dad to thank or blame, and it depends on how this goes.

It’s 4:05 in the evening and the chime on my electronic meat thermometer dings and alerts me. Perfect. Danny will be here at 4:15 pm so that gives the roast beef ten minutes to rest before I need to serve it. I do another walk through my tiny apartment for a final confirmation of the details of my plan of seduction.

Pecan pie warming on the stovetop and combining with the roast for the perfect scent—check.

Tools necessary for removing and storing the window A/C unit lying next to it—check.

Pristine linen sheets were replaced with Walmart cheapie sheets that I am willing to have sex on—check.

My heart is racing a little, ten years of anticipation will do that to you. I have myself checked in the full-length mirror in my bedroom one more time. Even I have to admit, I’ve nailed this outfit. My new jeans keep it casual but have strategically placed seams and fading to highlight all my curves. My ass could turn me on in these. My tee shirt looks like I just threw it on, but I shopped for an hour online for this specific one—it’s a little sheer, hangs off one shoulder, and highlights the blue lacy bra underneath. My toes are freezing on the hardwood floor, but the cold can’t stop me from being barefoot just to show off my shell-pink pedi—my feet are one of my best features; no way I’m hiding them today. If all goes as planned, I can warm them under Danny’s gorgeous muscular legs during our post-sex snuggle

I grab the tousle spray from the bathroom cabinet and primp my perfectly- styled messy beach waves one last time. I wish you luck in trying to resist me, Danny, you’re going to need it.

At 4:15 pm I hear the buzzer from the building’s front door announcing his punctual arrival. I knew it; Danny doesn’t do lateness. He was never late one day in the eight years that my dad was his boss. Yes, his reliability is one of the reasons I crave this man. I buzz him in and use the two minutes it will take him to climb the stairs to my apartment to pull the roast from the oven and tent it with the waiting piece of foil.

I try to suppress my smile as I open the door. I’m keeping it casual like he’s just Danny moving my air conditioner to storage, not my undying crush finally ready for me.

He is definitely looking laid back, leaning on the door frame, hands in his jean’s pockets, looking at the floor. He looks up and stares at me, shifting the toothpick to the other side of his mouth, drawing my attention (once again) to how damn full his lips are. I swear I’m turned on even when he hasn’t said a word.

Then he says. —Roast?

I regain my composure and nod. —Yep.

He takes a deep breath and launches himself off the door frame. — Pecan pie too?

—Yep.

And he lets out a long frustrated sigh. What? NO! Not this. Not again.

He walks over to the window and starts to pull the air conditioner from its perch. It’s wedged tightly into the ancient window frame and puts up a fight. In my mind, I appreciate it for making this harder for him. In muted distress, I watch him as he takes a screwdriver from my toolkit and uses it to push the frame back where it has embedded itself into the unit. After replacing the screwdriver in its correct slot (Do you see why he is perfect for me?), he shifts his weight back, stretches his exquisitely muscular arms around the machine and heaves. I can’t help but swoon a little at the way his shoulder muscles flex and settle as he leans the old hundred-plus pound thing against his chest.

He looks at me, but only to get my attention, then nods toward the door.

Let’s go.

I put up a weak smile that can’t hide my disappointment. Sure, he might’ve seen that I anticipated and wanted more.

I open the door to my apartment then walk ahead of him down the three flights of steps to the basement storage area. He’s quiet; not even trying to make small talks like asking about my job or my new car. This isn’t what I had envisioned; this is worst than my expectations.

I admit I knew there was a chance he would turn me down, but I weighted it as a slight chance. He could still be getting over his divorce, but it’s been over a year she left him. How long can he mourn the loss of the stupid, wussy woman? I’ve written off his reluctance to let her go when she has their son. That’s the only reason I can see for him not moving on to someone better, someone who won’t bail at the first sign of trouble, someone with a backbone— Someone like me.

The padlock on the door of my storage locker is giving me little trouble as I fumble with it. I probably should have had it unlocked already so he wouldn’t have to stand there holding the A/C unit, but I didn’t want to leave it unlocked for too long, and I did not plan on him doing this right away. My roast and pie were supposed to work their magic and slow this project down so it would last until morning or at least a few hours.

Finally, the lock opens, I open the door and step aside for him to enter the tiny room. I fight the urge to lock him in there and hold him until he wakes up and notices what is right in front of him.

I didn’t ask you to do this, you know.

He sets the unit down with a grunt and turns to me, —I know. He dusts off his hands and walks past me as I shut and lock the door.

I’d already made a deal with the maintenance guy to do this for me.

He starts back up the stairs ahead of me, —Yeah, well your dad asked me to come over here and do this, so here I am. You’re welcome.

Damn it. I did sound ungrateful, but this was about so much more than the air conditioner. —I made you dinner to thank you.

He doesn’t say a word in response to that.

We reached the landing with the building’s front door and he turns toward it. I can’t let him go yet. —You’re not staying for dinner?

Can’t. I’ve got to go to work.

Oh, puh-lease, what a lame bull-shit lie. I know where he works, I know his hours, and I know that he doesn’t have to go back to work tonight. His shift ended at three and he’s not wearing his work uniform. —Did you change shifts?

No, but I’ve got to go. He makes a move for the door and I block him.

My anger and embarrassment have me at a loss for words. I open my mouth to speak, but I’m afraid of what might come out. I need time to process this and formulate a response. For once, I have no plan B because I didn’t plan on failing this spectacularly. All I can think to do is kill him with kindness.

Take the pie at least. I can wrap it up and you can share it with the other guys on your crew.

No, not tonight. He moves toward the door again, I block him once more.

Danny, I...

Vivey, I told your dad I would come over here and help you move your air conditioner. That’s all he asked me to do and that’s all I’m going to do. He reaches out and touches my arm as if the contact will somehow lessen the blow. —I., He checks his watch. —I gotta go. I’m gonna be late.

He pushes past me, his size and warmth momentarily engulfing me, his Irish Spring scent lingering in his wake as he passes by. He doesn’t look back as he descended the stairs then gets on a motorcycle illegally parked on the sidewalk.

When did he get a motorcycle? He guns the engine, checks for pedestrians and cars and pulls out onto Drayton Street heading toward downtown.

I’m not sure how long I stand there, recovering from the shock of that short, excruciating brush-off. I had an armoury of temptation ready in my apartment, and he ran after he caught a whiff of my first shot. I shut the door tightly and check that the handle has locked. I love this apartment and this neighbourhood, they are good and kind of peaceful, but I’m not naive enough to not be aware of its dangers.

On my way up the stairs, I pull my phone from my back pocket to call Dom who’s on standby, waiting for her BFF sex summary. She answers, —So soon? Jeez, he’s quick on the draw!