Two weeks to a month. Depending on how quickly a bid could be put together, that was how long I’d be here. Personally, I was pushing for the less time. Every instinct in my body wanted this wrapped up as fast as I could so I could get as far away from Nate Westwood as possible.
I had to admit though, if Ihadto be working with someone like him, at least the digs made it worth it. This place wasnice. The concierge even seemed to know exactly who I was despite having never met me before.
“Ms. Vanderhaul,” he said, handing me a sleek key card and directing me to the private elevator bank on the left. “Welcome to the St. Regis. You’re on the seventieth floor. Please let us know if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” I said, loving the guy already.
A fancy, mirrored elevator was already waiting on the first floor. The doors slid shut with a soft, expensive whisper once I pressed the button for my floor. The ride up took less time than I expected. The doors opened onto a hushed, carpeted hallway that smelled faintly of wood polish and money.
I followed the discreet signage to the apartment number Alex had texted earlier. It took a few turns, but finally, I found the correct door and touched the keycard to the square sensor by the lock, reaching for the handle.
Already thinking about kicking off my heels and ordering something sinful and carb heavy for dinner, I wasn’t paying much attention until I heard a lock snick somewhere behind me. Another door opened, the one directly across the hall, and Nate freaking Westwood stepped out of the apartment it belonged to.
The air between us went sharp and electric as our gazes locked, neither of us moving for a moment as a silence stretched between us, so taut it felt like it might snap. He was dressed for a run in a tight shirt that clung to a broad, fiercely athletic figure I was entirely unprepared for.
The gray sweats showed off… well, something else. Something I was even more unprepared for, but refused to be impressed by or even acknowledge beyond the brief, traitorous flick of my eyes before I snapped my attention back to his face. His expression hardened as recognition set in.
“God, I can’t rid of you, can I?” he said under his breath, more to himself than to me.
Heat flared in my chest, irritation and that other, much less convenient thing tightening my insides. “Trust me, the feeling is mutual.”
His gaze dragged over me slowly, deliberately, like he was cataloging every detail for future ammunition. It made my skin prickle, but then, without another word, he reached up and slid his headphones over his ears.
“Welcome to the neighborhood,” he said as he adjusted them, but the tone of his voice suggested I wasn’t welcome here at all.
I stiffened. “I didn’t choose this place.”
He’d already turned away, but he paused to glance back at me over his shoulder. Something about the look in his extremely blue eyes made my stomach dip despite myself. “Don’t bother me when we’re outside the office, okay?”
I scowled at him. “I’ll bother you whenever the hell I want.”
He didn’t say anything else, just walking away with his broad shoulders rolling with loose, predatory confidence, like he owned every inch of the hallway and the air inside it. Despite trying not to, my eyes followed him as he headed toward the stairwell.
“I’m just here to do my job,” I called after him.
He didn’t turn around but responded just loud enough for me to hear before he disappeared. “Sure, you are.”
The door slammed behind him, the echo ricocheting down the pristine corridor and settling somewhere deep in my chest. I stood there for another long moment, my thoughts tangling into a frustrated knot.
Of all the buildings in this city. Of all the floors and all the apartments. Nate fucking Westwood is directly across the hall.
“Perfect,” I muttered.
Someone at Westwood had done this on purpose, probably because they figured it would be convenient. If we needed to discuss anything or work late, we were right next to each other. With any other colleague, the proximity would have been helpful. But since Nate got under my skin something fierce, putting me right across the hall from him felt like torture.
With a sigh, I pushed my door open and stepped inside. The apartment distracted me immediately from the inconvenience of having a dick with a big dick as a neighbor. The space wasabsolutely breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling windows spilled golden light across sleek furniture and glossy surfaces, the skyline stretching endlessly beyond the glass.
But even then, as beautiful as it was, it didn’t distract me for long. Approximately thirty seconds later, I was back to thinking about the man running down the stairs, apparently convinced I was out to destroy his life.
My luggage had already been brought up, stacked neatly inside the entryway. I exhaled slowly, pressing my palm to my sternum as if I could steady the strange, restless flutter in my chest.
It’s just Nate. Just a man who clearly despises me. Just a guy whose body I have absolutely no business noticing.
As soon as I realized what I was thinking about, I shoved the thought away and grabbed my vanity bag, heading straight for the bathroom. I couldn’t be noticing that kind of thing aboutNate, of all people, but it had probably only happened because it’d been a long, difficult day.That’s all. Nothing to worry about here.
I would feel better after a shower, so I turned on the faucet. The water came out in a cascade of perfect pressure and heat. Steam was curling around the marble and glass, fogging the mirrors by the time I got back with my comfy pajamas and clean underwear in my hands.
Setting it all down on the counter, I sorted through my things for my toiletries, taking what I needed into the shower with me. When I stepped under the spray, I tipped my head back, trying to wash away the image burned into my brain of gray sweatpants sitting low on narrow hips and the dark, knowing edge in his voice.
