She raised an eyebrow at me, and I flushed again when I realized I’d practically shouted it. “Famous last words.”
“No, not famous last words,” I insisted, feeling that immediate aggravation ignite in my very blood at the thought of my neighbor. “Logan MacLeod is uncouth, probably riddled with sexual diseases, and he’s not at all to my taste. And I am definitely not to his taste. You should see the women he sleeps with. They’re all sexy, tan, blond hair and big boobs. He thinks I have a stick up my arse because the hem of my skirt sits below my crotch and I do up the buttons over my cleavage.”
Chloe’s eyes were round as I ranted on. She turned to Aidan and Juno in seeming wonder. “I have to meet this man.”
“Why?” I snapped.
“Because he’s clearly got something intriguing about him if he can do this to you.” She gestured to me in a vague way.
“Do what?”
“This,” she insisted, repeating the vague gesturing.
I clenched my teeth together. “What is this?”
“I don’t know what it is. I just know it’s something.”
It had been suggested in the past by people who didn’t really know me at all well that as an editor who spent her days editing romantic fiction, I might have unrealistic expectations of men. Anyone who knew me – really knew me – knew that wasn’t true. Although I was actively looking for the man I wanted to spend my life with, I wasn’t looking for a fantasy man. I was looking for someone understanding, protective, and funny. I didn’t expect perfection. I just wanted to like the person I was dating, and I wanted him to be kind.
Bryan was neither funny nor kind.
“So the bitch took the fish, even though she never bought the fish,” Bryan finished, his nostrils flaring.
I blinked, wondering how my mentioning that my hake had been delicious had somehow gotten us onto the topic of his ex-girlfriend. Again. So far Bryan had turned all of our conversations on this abysmal date back to his last two ex-girlfriends.
He seemed to be a very angry little man.
Bored, I somehow found myself kicking the hornet’s nest. “But didn’t you say you won it at a fun fair for her?”
He scowled. “That’s not the point.”
“Surely a gift once given cannot be taken back?”
“Ugh, that’s such a fucking female thing to say.”
I stuck my hand up at the passing waiter. “Check, please.”
Exhausted from the terrible date, all I wanted was to get home and snuggle up to watch the latest episode of my favorite reality singing contest, which I’d recorded from the weekend.
I was hurrying up my stairwell when, to my horror, his door opened.
Logan stepped out, surprising me with his attire. He wore a beautiful black suit and a black shirt. The top button was open on the shirt and he wore no tie, but still he was very smart – it was the most civilized I’d ever seen him. I had to wonder if he worked at night, and if so, what exactly it was that he did.
I drew to a stop at the top of the stairs, and Logan jolted when he saw me, his gaze raking over me, his lips parting slightly as though he were in shock. Like him, I was wearing black. A black Alexander McQueen dress with a pleated knee-length skirt and a V-neck that showed off a modest amount of cleavage. The dress was a remnant from my previous life, and it was pure class. I loved it. I’d loved it for almost ten years. For once my honey brown hair hung loose over my shoulders, and my makeup was soft in dusky pink shades, which suited my light complexion.
I flushed when those extraordinary eyes of his connected with mine.
“Back from a date?” he said, sounding surprised by this.
“Yes,” I answered out of politeness.
“I take it the date didn’t go well?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because you’re home alone.”
Feeling my cheeks redden, as they had a tendency to do around him, I slipped past him, rummaging through my clutch for my keys. “It may come as a shock to you, Mr. MacLeod, but not all of us sleep with someone on the first date.”