Bad Boy Good Man (2 page)

I had to make a change. Starting with my
stupid, inconsiderate neighbor.

* * * *

When the alarm went off an hour early, my sense of righteous
outrage ejected me from bed like my butt was spring-loaded. I made
coffee and sat down to write a note that would give my
inconsiderate neighbor a piece of my mind. The first draft
definitely came off too, “Hi, I’m the librarian from
The Music
Man,
and I’m here to shake my finger at you.” The second one
just screamed, “I’m too meek and cowardly to confront you in
person.” I needed something that would get my message across
without making me sound sexually repressed or like an entitled
former yuppie reporting their neighbor’s unmowed lawn to the condo
association.

And, I definitely couldn’t write what I was
really feeling:
Please keep it down. I’m desperately lonely and
can’t stand to hear other people being intimate.
Besides, even
if I were in a healthy, happy relationship, I wouldn’t want to hear
strangers banging.

The clock was ticking, so I just scrawled,
I can hear you having sex, you jerk!
across the paper,
folded it up, and stuck it in my purse. Then, I got ready for work.
I showered, struggled into some Spanks to smooth out my tummy as
much as possible, and threw on a cute, high-waisted gray plaid
skirt and a gray button-down blouse with short, sheer sleeves. I
did the bare minimum when it came to my makeup, because I’d wasted
so much time messing around with the stupid note, and pulled on my
black leather mid-calf boots. I bundled up in my camel-colored pea
coat, white scarf, and slouch hat, and headed out the door.

Instead of taking a right out my door, I made
a sharp left and nearly collided with Red Head Pixie Cut.

“Oops, sorry,” I said, my face flushing hot.
It was not fun running into the person whose sex you masturbated to
the night before.

“Sorry, I should watch where I’m going,” she
said, still struggling to zip her puffy black coat. I waited for
her to get to the top of the stairs before I headed on to the door
she’d just come from. I fished the folded paper from my purse and
leaned down to put the note on the floor in front of the door.

Which opened the moment the paper left my
hand.

“Stella! You forgot—”

I wanted to melt into the floor. Two very
naked, very wet, very
big
feet stood in the doorway,
attached to chiseled calves covered in dark hair shining with water
drops. As I straightened, a thick, hard thigh peeked from between
the ends of what seemed to be a ridiculously small towel, held
closed at a narrow waist by one big, sun-tanned fist.

My eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment as he
said, “Uh, can I help you?”

I straightened and forced myself to look him
in the face. The smoldering, Disney-prince-esque face that was all
cheekbones and straight nose and freshly shaved chin that still
showed a dark shadow where the hair had been. One thick black brow
was drawn up, and his wide, full lips were slightly parted in a
crooked smile.

“No, I was just—” I started to lean down for
the paper, thinking I’d say, “I just noticed this trash in the
hallway,” or something else that would be ridiculously
unconvincing, but he scooped it up with the hand that wasn’t
preventing the towel from falling. I should have just run, but the
dark hair that dusted the broad, tawny beige expanse of his chest
drew my attention like a super sex-charged tractor beam. My fingers
curled into fists in my knit gloves.

To my horror, he shook the paper out and held
it up between us to read aloud, “‘I can hear you having sex, you
jerk.’ Exclamation point.” His brows drew up, and he blinked.
“Wow.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize we were
being that loud.” He cleared his throat. “I’m Antony—” He reached
toward me with the hand the held the paper, then moved as though
he’d use his other one before realizing what it was doing. He
pressed the paper between his gorgeous lips and extended his hand
to me.

“Ellie. Ellie McCormack.” Why was I
introducing myself? I should be…swearing at him, or acting all hard
or something.
Keep it down, you big idiot
! Yeah, I should
have tried that.

He took the paper out of his mouth again.
“Why didn’t you just knock on the wall or something? We would have
kept it down.”

I waved my hand. “It’s really no big—”

“No big ‘jerk’?” He grinned at me. “Don’t
lose that tough streak, now.”

I gestured over my shoulder with my thumb.
“Well, it was nice meeting you, Anthony—”

“Antony. Like the Roman,” he corrected me
with a wink.

“Yeah. Um. I have to go to work. So, I’ll
just…” I nodded and turned awkwardly away.

“Sorry to disturb you, Ellie,” he called
after me.

The building could have been on fire, and I
wouldn’t have run out so fast.

Chapter
Two

After our unconventional “welcome to the neighborhood” meeting, I
started seeing Antony around the building almost every day. We’d
pass on the stairs and nod at each other, or get in each other’s
way coming through the door. I could barely look him in the eye,
but when I’d glance up at him, he’d always seemed vaguely
amused.

“He probably thinks I’m this uptight little
prude who lives next door.” I made a disgusted noise as I recounted
the situation to Dawn.

Because of my awesome mom and her
high-powered connections, I’d gotten a fantastic job right out of
business school, working as an actuary for the APAC Group of
insurance providers. My days were spent pouring over the costs of
industrial, on-the-job accidents, health crises that affected
employment, basically every horrible way you could possibly get
mangled. Which was great for my stress level when my field was
already highly competitive and everyone thought I got my position
through nepotistic connections.

Which I had. But was actually good at my job,
and one of the perks was that Dawn and I worked on the same block,
so we could usually meet for lunch.

“Who cares what he thinks?” she asked,
reaching across the table to snag a piece of chicken from my
salad.

“I sense that was a rhetorical question, but
I’m going to answer, anyway. I care because nobody wants a hot guy
to think they’re frumpy.” I disagreed with the statement the moment
I heard it leave my mouth. Taking a deep breath, I added, “And, I
know how shitty that sounds, because it’s buying into this ‘be hot
to be valuable’ mindset that holds women back, but damn, Dawn. You
didn’t see his shoulders—”

“Or his chest, or his calves, or the outline
of his dick through his towel.” She rolled her eyes.

I smiled and shook my head. “I said nothing
about any outlining in my story.”

“I may have mentally embellished.” She took a
sip of her water. “But, look, this isn’t the guy you want. You’re
always saying you’re not into players, and this guy is either a
player or a prostitute. And, you’re too possessive to get down with
that.”

“Either way, he’s clearly good at his job.” I
sighed. “I’m probably just cranky because I’m horny.”

“Now
that’s
something he could help
you with. Although you’re right; there could be some monetary
compensation required there.”

I laughed off Dawn’s suggestion, but it
bugged me the rest of the day. Not what she’d said, but the way I
found myself mentally responding to it. I’d had a moment in which
soliciting my neighbor for sex had seemed perfectly plausible.

Since it was a Tuesday evening, it seemed
like the perfect time to get the hell out of my apartment, just in
case the bi-weekly sex fest was in full, hopefully muffled, swing.
I grabbed my small hamper and dragged it down to the laundry room.
Avoidance and productivity, all in one.

The thought of sitting down, listening to the
tumble of the dryers, and reading some good YA on my Kindle
improved my mood greatly. I backed through the swinging door and
dropped my hamper, bending to lift off the lid.

“Long time, no see.”

It was Antony. My super hot, sexual dynamo
neighbor was standing behind me as I bent over in my gray
sweatpants.

The very little dignity I had left helped me
stand up calmly, turn to him, and make eye contact. “I didn’t
expect to see you down here.”

His dark brows drew together. “Why wouldn’t I
be down here?”

“It’s Tuesday.” I wasn’t going to draw him a
diagram.

Understanding dawned on his face in the form
of a slow, sexy smile. “Right. But a man has to do his laundry,
some time.”

“So, no date tonight?” I asked, adjusting my
v-neck t-shirt so less of my cleavage was on blatant display. I
should have worn a bra, but usually, it was just me and my fear of
basement goblins down here.

“Your sensibilities are safe for the
evening.” He gestured to the two dryers. “I’m almost done. Do you
want me to come up and get you when they’re free?”

“Nah, don’t sweat it. I haven’t even washed
mine, yet.” I lifted the lid of one of the washers and hummed to
myself as put in my clothes and quarters. If I kept myself
hyper-focused on my laundry, I wouldn’t have to worry about
stealing glances at him.

I closed the lid, pulled up one of the metal
folding chairs and sat down, reaching into the hamper for my
Kindle. It was probably rude of me to sit down and start reading
and ignoring him, but we didn’t have much to talk about, beyond his
nocturnal activities.

“So,” he said, just as I opened the cover.
“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m an actuary,” I said, trying for the
detached tone I used to ward off men on the subway. But, unlike
when I had to endure those rude strangers who demanded my
attention, I kind of liked that Antony was starting a
conversation.

No, you don’t. Stop thinking that.

“That’s a risk-management type of thing,
right?”

“Yeah. People actually don’t often know
that.” At least, not people who didn’t work in the industry. “Do
you work in insurance?”

“Me?” He snorted, like it was the most
ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “No.”

What the fuck? Sure, I wasn’t as cool as him,
and maybe I didn’t have a perfectly sculpted body or look like I
could be a model, but how the hell did he know any of that? Besides
the looking like a model thing. But I wasn’t hard on the eyes.

Why was I defending myself from something he
hadn’t even said?

He
had
sounded awfully dismissive. So,
I pushed back a little. “Let me guess what you do.”

Pulling up the other folding chair, he turned
it backward and straddled it. His jeans were faded at the knees,
and he wore black boots. His ribbed, black A-shirt clung to his
torso, accentuating the immovable hardness of his body beneath.

“Model?” It burst from my mouth before I
could stop myself.

He grinned. “Thank you. But nope.”

His smile was perfect. I was not the first
person to have guessed that he was a model. I tried again.
“Mechanic.”

He shook his head.

“Bouncer?”

He made a face.

I wracked my brain. What kind of jobs were
out there for pretty faces like his? “Bartender?”

“I’m a Times Square Elmo,” he said with such
sincerity, he actually convinced me for a moment.

“You are not!” I laughed.

“I’m just surprised you didn’t guess that
next.” A brief flash of annoyance crossed his face. “I’m a
lawyer.”

“Oh.” Great, now who was a douche? “I just
assumed—”

“You assumed I was living some New York bad
boy life?” He cracked another smile. “I only do that on Tuesdays
and Thursdays.”

“I’m not sure I get that. But I feel like if
we’re new friends here, I should warn you that your ‘schedule’
makes it seem like you might be a prostitute.” My face grew hot. I
reached up to tuck my hair behind my ear, remembering too late that
it was in a ponytail.

He shrugged his impressively wide shoulders.
His muscles flexed from that one, short motion.

I felt my nipples harden against my thin
t-shirt and crossed my arms over my chest.

“Life is complicated.” He seemed sad about
that, but he brightened up. “So, you’re pretty new to the building,
huh?”

“Well, I moved in back in May.” I ticked the
weeks off on my fingers. “Two, two and half months? I can’t believe
I never saw you before.”

He gripped the chair’s back and sat up
straighter. “You never saw me before?”

“Never. I know, it’s weird, right? We’re next
door neighbors.” I shook my head at my own foolishness.

He still looked confused. “That’s wild. I’ve
seen you all over.”

No, I’ve seen
you
all over
.
Thank god, my brain-to-mouth filter was working tonight. I didn’t
need to remind him that I’d seen him naked-ish. “Really? I think I
would have remembered you.”

He lifted his shoulders again. “You must not
be very observant. I noticed you literally the day you moved
in.”

“You noticed me?” Could I have sounded any
dorkier when I said that? Yes, it ridiculously pleased me that this
hot guy had been aware of my presence before I’d been aware of
his.

Wait, that wasn’t exactly true. I had been
plenty
aware of his presence. Like when I’d been listening
to the ecstatic moans he’d caused.

The dryer buzzed, and he got up to check it.
I took advantage of the moment to compose myself and say, “Well, I
did notice you. I just didn’t know what you looked like.”

He leaned over to take his clothes out of the
dryer. Mother of mercy, his butt was fantastic.

“Well, now you do. And, apparently, I look
like a gigolo.” His voice echoed out of the metal drum as he
gathered his clothes.

“I think it’s just ‘escort’ now,” I corrected
him with mock seriousness. “That was a dick move of me, making
assumptions based on how you look.”