For 100 Days(9)

The question takes me aback, if only because I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that I’m actually standing here and not dreaming. I shake my head as I scrawl my finger across the tablet in a barely legible version of my signature. “I wasn’t planning to stay, no. It’s late and we just got off work. I only wanted to stop by to check things out.”

“All right, then.” Manny reaches around the counter of the reception desk and hands me a card. “That’s the number for the lobby phone. If you need anything at all, you just let me know how I can help.” He gestures toward the elevator banks. “Ms. Prentice’s apartment is on the fifth floor, number 501. Take a left off the elevator.”

“Thanks, Manny.” I nod to him and pocket the card, grateful for his welcoming nature. Some of my anxiety has faded under the warmth of his smile. Maybe I won’t feel quite so alone or out of place here, knowing there will be at least one friendly face in the building.

I give him a small wave, then Tasha and I head for the elevators. Neither of the two cars are parked on the ground level, so, as we wait for one to come down, I can’t resist pivoting for another look at the opulence of the lobby.

A moment later, a soft chime sounds behind me as the elevator comes to a rest. I wheel back around and step toward the doors as soon as they slide open.

I don’t even register that the wall I’m facing is human until I’ve almost crashed right into him.

I stop short and lift my head with a half-formed apology on my lips. The sound evaporates on my tongue as I glance up and my gaze collides with a pair of cerulean blue eyes. They skewer me from under the slash of inky black brows.

Brows that are furrowed into a deep scowl at the uncouth clod who nearly body-slammed her way onto the elevator.

“Um, sorry.”

No reply from him. Not even a flicker of polite response in his handsome, sharply cut features. Under a crown of dark hair that’s neatly trimmed, fit for a boardroom, but thick with rebellious waves that catch the light in a glossy, raven’s wing sheen, his face is a blending of hard, chiseled angles. With his high cheekbones and square jaw, I’d be tempted to call his face brutal if not for the supple line of his mouth.

And he’s tall and muscular too, dressed in a dark gray track jacket and pants that do little to disguise the physically fit body within. Despite his athletic appearance, I can tell immediately that he’s not some meat-head gym rat who’s more brawn than brain.

No, this man’s eyes blast me with the kind of intelligence and seriousness—a powerful confidence—that I can’t ignore.

A shocking and inexplicable heat pours through me as he holds my gaze. His stare is bold, unflinching, as if he’s accustomed to taking his fill of anything in his sights. That air of assumption should offend me for many reasons, but as his brilliant blue eyes travel the length of me, all I feel is the rapid igniting of every cell in my body.

Tasha clears her throat when my muteness appears to be permanent. “Pardon us, please.”

He barely acknowledges her comment, nor her huff of indignation that follows. No, those piercing eyes staying rooted on me alone. I feel stripped bare under that hard gaze, as if he can see right through me with a single glance and knows I don’t belong here. Even worse, the barely imperceptible twist of his lips seems to say that he’s very much aware of the effect he has on me.

He doesn’t move, then I am mortified to realize it’s because I’m standing in his way.

I wince inwardly and step aside, wishing I would just melt into the crack between the marble floor and the elevator shaft before I embarrass myself any more.

His path cleared, he steps into the lobby without a word.

I follow Tasha into the elevator, but all of my attention is on the dark-haired stranger now prowling across the marble with fluid, almost urgent strides.

I hear Manny greet him as the elevator doors slide shut, blocking my view.

“Evening, Mr. Baine. Enjoy your run, sir.”

Once we’re sealed inside the car, my breath leaks out of me on a groan.

Tasha arches a brow. “Hot as sin, but obviously a superior prick. Do yourself a favor and steer clear of that one, honey.”

As if I need the warning.

Whoever he is, I doubt I’ll be seeing much of Mr. Baine. In fact, I’m already promising myself I’ll head in the opposite direction if I ever see him in the building again while I’m here. God knows, I don’t need to relive tonight’s awkward semi-introduction with the man anytime soon.

I push the button for the fifth floor, wishing it was as easy to push the memory of those searing blue eyes from my mind. The man radiated a palpable heat and power that I can still feel riding my skin—tripping all of my senses—as we ascend to Claire’s apartment.