There was a delay before he looked up. When he did, his eyes surveyed her from top to bottom in a lightning-quick look that Janey told herself was a simple reminder to himself of where he was—not the kind of once-over that a guy gives a girl he's attracted to. That didn't stop it from making her spine stiffen and her skin feel suddenly sensitized. "Yeah, once or twice," he drawled in that smooth timbre. "There's nothing to worry about. It might get a little warm in here, but there's enough air even if we're in here till evening."
"Till evening?" Janey had been okay before at the idea of an hour, but now she started to panic. "Maybe we should try to pry open the doors and climb out, like in the movies."
Again his brows rose and amusement lit his eyes. "Maybe we shouldn't."
That amused expression did something to her. Her breath caught and she felt her nipples tighten beneath the jacket of her suit. It was a warm day in early September and the elevator suddenly felt stiflingly hot.
The effect only went one way, apparently. The man's attention returned to his phone. Janey wasn't surprised. While she'd never had such a strong and immediately sexual response to a guy before, the man's own reaction was just business as usual as far as her life went.
Maybe she should just go ahead and get her name changed to Janey Ho-Hum, she thought idly.
She fanned herself discreetly with her hand. She gazed around again. Elevators were very empty places. The only thing interesting was in the top corner of the elevator, a tiny round object.
"I wonder if that's a camera," she said aloud.
This time his reluctance to look up was obvious. Janey flushed. She hadn't really been talking to him. Exactly. But there was no need to make her feel like she was intruding. She wasn't exactly here voluntarily.
"Yes, it is," he said without bothering to glance up at the ceiling.
"Amazing that in a building this old there's that kind of technology. And look at this panel. You wonder if we could go flying like in Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator. That was a fun book." Why couldn't she stop chattering? Maybe she was more panicked than she realized.
Or maybe being stuck in an elevator with a delectable male hottie who wasn't the slightest impressed with her nonhottie self right after being rejected by a far less appealing guy by email was beginning to take its toll. Janey felt those tears well up in her eyes again.
She turned away from the man quickly, facing the doors, and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Surveillance is everywhere these days," he said tersely—and, she'd bet, went back to doing whatever he was doing with his device. She didn't turn around to confirm it. She determined not to talk to him at all for the rest of the time they were stuck here unless it was an emergency.
The next several minutes passed in silence except for the tapping of the man's stylus on his phone and the occasional beep, which she could hear over the soft rush of the ventilation system. She reluctantly admitted that the guy was right; it was getting uncomfortably warm in here.
Giving up any pretense of poise, she plopped down on the floor and shrugged off her oversized jacket, revealing the white shell blouse she wore underneath. It was semi-sheer, but she didn't worry about it. If her companion on the elevator even noticed, she didn't fool herself he'd be bothered even a little.
Janey had what she thought of as an invisible body. There was nothing technically wrong with it, but even at the beach while she was wearing a swimsuit, she was never the center of attention. That was reserved for the skinny, flat-bellied girls, or the robust athletic ones, or even the softer, fun party girls. She wasn't any of those. She was just Janey.
She reached into one of her totes and pulled out a bottled water. She opened it and drank the whole thing down. It was warm, but better than nothing.
She glanced around and saw the guy was still leaning against the wall, still all into his phone. Guilt made her rethink her position on the silent treatment. If she was thirsty, he probably was, too. It was, after all, lunch time.
"Do you want some water?" she offered.
He glanced up, frowned when he didn't see her, then found her on the floor. Wow. He'd seriously been unaware of her if he didn't even know she was sitting down now. Janey took it in stride. The story of her life.
"No, thanks, it's—" he broke off, his eyes narrowing as they took in her see-through blouse. Then he seemed to catch himself and moved his gaze to her face. "No," he said slowly.
"Are you sure? I have extra. I've already had one." She dug into the bag and held out the bottle to him.
A shiver traveled through her as she caught his gaze on her again. He was definitely noticing her lack of a jacket, looking at her breasts through the shell in their simple bra. Pretty openly, actually. It probably should have been offensive but offended wasn't how she felt. The opposite, actually.
But she didn't fool herself about it. It probably just meant that her own version of Murphy's Law had struck again and he wasn't available. Of course he'd be attached. Rich, good-looking, thirtyish guys like him were never single. Well at least, if they were, and they were heterosexual, they never gave her a second look. The fact that this one was doing so now had to be due either to the very boring scenery in here or her Curse of Attracting Sleazeballs.
Janey seriously wanted to cry now.
He spotted the empty bottle she was crumpling in her hand. "That? You drank that whole bottle?"
"It's not that big," she sniffed. He didn't need to talk about it like she was a lush, for goodness sake.
"Nor are bladders," he said dryly. "And we don't know how long we're going to be on this thing."
"Oh. You're right. That wasn't too bright." Her voice broke a little.
He stared at her. His phone made a sound and absently he glanced at it, tapped something, then tucked it in his pocket. "You are claustrophobic," he said abruptly.
Janey became aware then that the tears she'd been fighting since she read Vince's email were now trailing down her cheeks. "No," she said. "I'm sorry. It's nothing to do with being in the elevator."
The tears weren't stopping. She bent her knees, wrapped her arms around her legs, and tucked her head between them. "I'm just having a bad day. Ignore me," she said in a muffled voice. "You can go back to your surfing. I won't disturb you again."
"I wasn't surfing, I was working," he said. To her surprise, his voice came from lower down. She lifted her head and found him sitting against the side wall of the elevator with his knees up. "Do you normally burst into tears in the middle of the day?'
"Whenever I haven't eaten," she said. "Missing meals makes me weep."
There was a beat of silence, then he gave a chuckle. "Is that where you were going just now? Lunch?"
Sitting down like that, he looked almost approachable. Janey wiped her cheeks with her arm. "No, I was providing it. I'm catering a lunch on seven. What about you?" she asked shyly.
"Dentist appointment." He grimaced. "Not that I was looking forward to it, but I wanted it over with."
Well, that was very human and normal. "I'm, uh, I'm Janey. Janey Pankowski." She reached into her bag and fished out a business card and handed it to him.
"Nyall Anderson."
Janey didn't fail to notice that he tucked her card away without looking at it, and he didn't reciprocate with his own business card.
"How much time do you think has passed?" Janey said.
"An hour and a quarter," he said after checking his phone.
"That long? Oh, my God. We're really stuck in here." The fact that there hadn't been a peep from anybody outside boded ill in her mind.
"It's looking like we'll be here a while," he agreed. "You might as well tell me why you were crying."
Just his mentioning it made it start happening again. Janey didn't understand it. She was sitting here with a man that she had nothing in common with and he was inviting her to confide in him.
"Why do you want to know?" she said. "Do you like listening to strange women tell you about their miserable lives? Are you a psychiatrist or something?"
"Lord, no." He sounded repelled. "Curiosity, I guess."
Well, that fit in with the calculating businessman image, at least, she thought. "I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. It's nothing exciting. I just asked a guy out on a date and he said no."
"That's it?" He didn't seem impressed. "That makes you cry on elevators?"
She swallowed. "No, that's not it. It's the story of my li-ife. Nice guys look right through me. It's only the cheating sleazeballs who ever come on to me."
Janey heard her own words and winced. She couldn't believe she was sitting here complaining to this guy about her lame love life.
His gaze moved over her again, this time more speculatively. Of course, her legs and arms blocked most of her body, but he seemed to see through them. "I can see why the sleazeballs, but I'm not getting the nice guys part."
Janey's jaw dropped. Had she just been insulted? "Thanks a lot," she said.
His eyes narrowed. "Did that offend you?"
"You just said you think I'm perfect for scumbags."
"You have a voluptuous body," he said. "Men want to fuck that. But I don't know why decent guys wouldn't, too. They're basically the same animal, with different shirts."