He parks in a spot thatdefinitelyisn’t mine, and we run into the lobby like we’re on the Amazing Race, trying to get to the next clue. Heart in my throat, I beeline for Sean, our concierge, waiting patiently, and without judgment, at the desk. “Hey, Sean,” I gasp, “I got a message that I had a package today?”
“Oh yes, Ms. Kramer, we placed it in your apartment per your request. Is everything okay?”
Shit.“Yeah, it’s fine. That’s exactly what I asked for with the delivery. Sorry for the panic. Thanks.”
I look to Jordan, forcing a brittle smile, still not quite understanding why he’s here, what else he’s being tight-lipped about,orwhat the hell is going on.
“Let’s go,” he says, grabbing my hand and leading me toward the elevator.
“Jordan.” I drag my heels. “You don’t have to come with me. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“No way. No fucking way. We’re going together to see what this is,” he says, squeezing my hand.
I twist my lips as I consider arguing with him, but from the way he’s holding my hand, and the long-ass day we’ve had, I don’t want to be alone tonight.
“Okay,” I whisper, allowing myself to follow his lead. “Let’s go.”
Taking the elevator up to the 10thfloor is the longest damn elevator ride of my entire life, but when it finally dings, we speed-walk down the hallway, and I tap the key fob against my door. Red light.
“Shit! I hate this damn door. This freakin’ key has to hit just the right spot.”
Jordan snorts. “You do live here, right?”
I give him a wicked side eye. “Yes, I live here. But this stupid door is impossible.”
“Here,” he says, holding out his hand. “Let me try. I have a knack for hitting things in just the right spot.”
A shiver runs up my spine thinking about what other spots he may be able to hit. I still feel like he’s keeping something from me, but my body responds anyway—that damn undeniable heat pooling low in my core.Shit…I need to stop reading romance books with morally gray men.
I hand it over and, sure enough, he unlocks it in one try.
“How…how did you do that?”
He shrugs as he hands back the key. “I watered Maggie’s plants when she and Vladi were out of town and got the hang of it. I also may have, you know, accidentally killed one of herplants, and she absolutely threatened bodily harm if it happened again.”
I snicker, breaking the tension as the door clicks open. But now…I pick at my nails, almost scared to enter. Jordan slowly pushes open the door, and we both inch inside as if a creepy clown is going to pop out of a closet.
“Anyone there?” he yells, glancing around the dark space, then whispers, “Stay here; let me walk around and make sure no one snuck in.”
“Jordan, this building is secure; there’s no way someone walked in here without security knowing.”
“Will you just let me check? Please?”
I let out a defeated sigh, a part of me glad he’s here with me and I’m not alone. “Fine. I’ll stay here.”
What happens next can only be described as Jordan Boucher acting like he’s an undercover agent for the FBI. Shuffling down the hallway with his back against the wall, he darts around corners, holding his hands in the shape of a gun like he’s one of Charlie’s Angels. I stifle a laugh at the ridiculous manner in which he’s ensuring the safety of my apartment.
“Are you seriously laughing?!” he whisper-yells down the hallway. “Someone could be trying to murder me right now!”
“How did this escalate to murder?” I retort as he tiptoes down the hall, shaking my head in disbelief. As I step into the kitchen, my eyes catch on a little plush teddy bear sitting on the counter with a balloon attached. The tension flickers away, and I suddenly feel ridiculous for racing to get here. “Jordan…oh my God, Jordan, stop. Come look at this. I think we may have overreacted.”
He walks back into the kitchen and stands next to me, placing his hand around my waist. Standing this close, his scent floods my senses. He smells like juniper, and citrus, and—fuck, he’s like a walking gin and tonic, and my mouth is salivating forhim more than the drink. Not to mention my thighs clenching together at how he’s being ridiculously protective.Why is this so intoxicating?
“The coast is clear,” he pants as if he’s just run a marathon.
“ThankGodyou were here,” I tease as he rolls his eyes at me. He actually rolls his eyes atme. It’s so immature, so ridiculous, and somehow, it’s…charming.
“Look…” —I gesture to the stuffed animal on my counter— “…someone sent me this cute guy and a balloon. I think we let our imagination get the best of us. It’s probably from my mom.”
