I count the second-floor decks, starting at the end of the building, and confirm what I already know: she’s scaling the wrong one. In her defense, they all look the same. Most—like mine—are barren. As is the one next door. The place has been vacant for ages.
But if she’s the new tenant, then I guess we’re neighbors.
Way to roll out the welcome wagon, St. James.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’ve got the wrong unit.”
“No, this one is definitely mine. I counted to be sure.” She glances down at me, the movement so swift I barely have time to register her dark eyes before I’m staring at the back of her head again. “I’ve got it all under control.”
Only ifunder controlis code forimminent disaster.
“Look at the porch light. My roommate smacked it with a broom and cracked the glass.”
She tilts her head back, presumably studying the broken fixture, and when she finally speaks, there’s a hint of doubt in her voice. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” McGinnis left the back door open, and a bat flew in. He broke the shade attempting to chase it back outside. I should’ve replaced the broken pane months ago, but compared to all the other items on my to-do list, it’s low priority. “Why don’t you come down from there, and we can find a way to get you inside that doesn’t risk bodily injury?”
“I don’t suppose you have a ladder?” she asks hopefully.
“Unfortunately, no.” My only ladder is at my parent’s house, which is exactly as helpful as it sounds. “Can you climb down?”
“Of course.” She shimmies down, but when her left palm makes contact with the beam, she hisses in pain. I instinctively reach for her, circling her waist as she drops to the ground. The pads of my fingers glide over the smooth, silky skin of her abdomen, and a thrill races up my spine.
Don’t even think about it.
Right. This woman is the last person I should be lusting after. We share a wall, for god’s sake. It would be a terrible idea.
And unlike McGinnis, I know better than to follow my cock every which way it twitches.
The new neighbor turns to face me, and a light, floral scent teases my senses. It’s both new and familiar, but there’s no time to dwell on the unsettling sensation because when she looks up at me, her mahogany eyes shining, recognition slams into me.
Tink.
Her hair is longer than the day we met, but her eyes…and her mouth. I spent hours worshiping that sloping Cupid’s bow. Hell, I still remember the taste of her strawberry lip balm. Stillremember every smile and the rich, smoky laugh that called to me like a siren song.
Desire stirs low in my gut, as if I need further confirmation, but when I open my mouth to speak, I come up short.
I can hardly ask this gorgeous woman if we fucked our brains out five years ago. Not when she’s studying me with the kind of blank expression reserved for door-to-door salesmen. There isn’t a hint of recognition in her eyes or in the set of her full lips.
Talk about an ego check.
Sure, my hair is longer now, and it’s been weeks since I last shaved, but I’m stillme.
Five years isn’tthatlong.
Is it possible I’ve got it wrong? Maybe she’s not actually Tink, but a Tink doppelganger. That’s a thing, isn’t it? I’ve heard stories about—
“So, what’s the plan?”
“Plan?” I echo, scrambling to sort my racing thoughts.
She jerks her chin toward the building. “To get inside.”
Right. That was the whole point of this exchange.
Focus, St. James.
“It’s only a few feet from my deck to yours.” I pause and rub the back of my neck, praying I won’t regret this later. “You can come up to my place, and I’ll help you climb over.”