as his honey-scented cologne, lingers in every square inch of the place.
“These your books?” He points to the bookcase near my desk.
“Yep. I keep a lot of extras for people who order signed copies.”
He whistles through his teeth as he takes in the rows of paperbacks. “That’s impressive. Let me buy one off of you.”
I shake my head. “No need. Just grab one.”
“Any suggestions?”
I roll my eyes. It’s not like he’s actually gonna read it, so I walk over and pick the first book I see. It’s called Fire and Gold, and it was my first best seller.
He holds it in his hands, feeling the weight of it. “This is quite the accomplishment. Your parents must be proud.”
Proud isn’t the word I’d use.
“Of course.”
“You hesitated.”
I brush him off. “She is satisfied with my career.”
His eyes narrow, as if he’s trying to decide if I’m lying or not. An attuned man is a dangerous one, as they can read between the lines.
“I’ll let you know what I think of this.” He holds up the book and looks at the cover with the shirtless model glowering with searing intensity. “Nice abs.”
“Did you come here to borrow a book?” I ask with an unsure smile.
He grins. “Kind of. I just wanted to bring you the wine and see what life was like on the other side of the wall. You’ve never knocked on my door before.”
“I most definitely have. When you moved in, I came over to introduce myself. You answered while wearing nothing but a seafoam-green towel, and a woman, who looked to have on the previous night’s clothes, came strolling out.”
His brows go up. The smile on his face grows devilish as he tucks the book under his arm. “What kind of dress was she wearing?”
I blanch at his ridiculous question. “I have absolutely no idea. Why would it matter?”
He takes five steps forward, closing the space between us. My shoulders push back on instinct, and my chin rises. His cocky stature hovers above me as he looks down, making my heart race.
“You remembered what I was wearing but not the woman?”
“It was a green towel. Hardly a detail difficult to remember.”
“A seafoam-green towel,” he says as he saunters past me and toward the door, stopping to open it and glancing back. “Offer still stands. Come over if you need a break.”
The door closes behind him, and I let out the breath I was holding since he uttered the word seafoam. It’s not even a sexy word, and yet the way he said it, like it was the code word to his secret lair, has me falling to my couch with my hand over my eyes, wondering why I’d had to go and knock on my neighbor’s door tonight.
Because he was playing loud music. Which he turned down and then brought me a glass of wine.
Either Jake is the nicest person on the planet or evil incarnate in Ferragamo shoes, trying to butter me up.
Well, I guess one thing was accomplished tonight. I can, without a doubt, confirm the hero on my pages is a dud because I’m more inspired by the words from the man next door than the fictitious one I’m currently trying to create.
Chapter Two
“Auntie!” The pitter-patter of baby girl feet comes from the hallway.
“There’s my Bree Bree!” I place my purse on the entryway table and pick up my favorite girl, squeezing her tightly as I kiss her cheek.
“Wook at my dow-ee,” she tells me, holding up a toy I haven’t seen before. This one is a baby doll with pink hair and purple eyes, wearing leopard-print pajamas.
“Why, this is the sweetest baby I’ve ever seen. Is she new?”
Aubrey dramatically nods her head before hugging it, closing her eyes, and loving on her new toy.
“Looks like my favorite little lady has been a good girl,” I say as I tickle her belly.
Her laughter is the best sound I’ve ever heard.
The toddler is giggling and squirming in my arms as her mom—and my best friend—Charisse walks into the hall while wiping her hands on a rag.
“Don’t let that tiny ball of sunshine fool you. She’s a house-wrecker. This morning, she took my lipsticks and made a mural on the bathroom wall,” Charisse says, giving her daughter a stern expression.
My eyes pop with surprise as I try to hide my laugh when I turn to my goddaughter. “Aubrey Claire, you do not use Mommy’s makeup for art. You’ll ruin the walls—and Mommy’s expensive gloss. If anyone is going to