“I do,” my neighbor called, getting a laugh from the handyman.
“I bet you do.” He produced a card key and thankfully waved it through to a green, opening the door to my suite. “I brought an extra key for when I got it unstuck.” He handed it to me.
“Thanks.”
“For nothing,” Gorgeous Guy added, as the man went by him and responded with a comment too low for me to hear, and they both laughed. A male bonding moment before he headed back to the elevator.
I stooped to pick up the ice bucket, its contents watery now. My neighbor really had been sweet. And hot. And sexy.
He was still standing there, waiting in his open doorway as I stood in mine.
“Go ahead,” he taunted. “Make my day.”
I felt more lighthearted from the last few minutes with him than I had in a long while, and because of it he didn’t seem like so much of a stranger now. Things were looking up. If I’d let them. Maybe it was time to “stop the insanity” and do things a little differently.
“I’ll take a quick shower and pop back for that drink,” I called down to him.
Hell, I was entitled to a little fun, wasn’t I?
I closed my door and dropped the towel.
If I was really going to do this, I should consult my best friend, Cassie, who knew all about the proper etiquette of hooking up. I grabbed my cell, tempted to call her, but she’d keep me on the phone too long. So instead I texted: Gorgeous guy next door asked me into his suite for a drink. What do you think I should do?
Cassie texted back right away, Go, you idiot! At least she put a smiley face at the end to soften her real point, which was that I was a little slow on the uptake when it came to situations with men.
Don’t worry. I’m going, I responded.
A series of short back-and-forths, full of instructions from Cassie like “Go commando” and “Do not swallow,” convinced me yet again that she had a PhD in the subject of sex and I no more than a GED. I decided to ignore most of the advice. You had to learn to walk before you could run and all that.
Her final text reminded me of a rule I always made her follow. To send a picture of the guy so he would realize that somebody knew who he was and that she was with him. Not that every guy was a serial killer. But there was that one in however many millions.
After assuring her I would, I took my shower in record time. Dripping in my towel afterward, I confronted my closet and realized that wardrobe was going to be a problem. Except for the grungy clothes I traveled in, I had brought only suits, one for each day I’d be here, three in all. Each one was as bland as the next. I settled for the knee-length skirt of the black suit and a neutral camisole that I usually put underneath a blouse, but would wear by itself for this occasion. Showing what a wimp I was, though, I still wore a bra and panties, plain old white since it was the only color I’d brought, although at least the bra was skimpy enough not to show through the camisole.
At the last minute, I grabbed my phone for the picture. When Gorgeous Guy opened the door—I really should get down to asking his name—I snapped the picture.
“What was that for?” he asked as I sent it to Cassie.
“Nothing. Just a precaution my friend and I take if we’re someplace alone with a guy. Since we’ll be closing the door and everything this time.”
He nodded, not seeming like a mass murderer at all—so he had that going for him. “That’s a smart idea. You can never be too careful. Especially in New York.”
He had gotten more casual, in jeans and a black pullover. I felt overdressed. Taking me aback a little, he leaned over and kissed my cheek. Light, almost nothing at all, but I must have jumped a mile. He stroked the curve of my elbow. “Sorry. Did I get the wrong message this time?”
I shook my head. I didn’t want him to keep his hands to himself for this round. I wanted them on me.
“Then relax. You’re even more skittish than when you were in the towel. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want.”
Maybe that was the problem. What wouldn’t I want him to do? “I bet,” I said.
At the last minute, I realized I’d forgotten the condom I tucked away in my purse for just such an occasion. I hoped it hadn’t expired. “I have to go back to my room for a minute.”
“Not chickening out on me already, are you?”
“No. I just, er, forgot something.”
“I have condoms, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said. “But if it was your lipstick or something, I feel like a sleaze for mentioning it.”
I laughed, not bothering to lie, but not going back for any lipstick, either.