Love Thy Neighbor (2 page)

God, he was spectacular. Tall, dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a loose, unbuttoned white shirt. She was so taken with him she almost didn’t notice the box he had resting on his hip.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Morning. I, ah—I was just coming to drop this off,” Nikki choked out, indicating the box.

“Looks like they pulled a switch on us. I received your parcel by mistake, too. I was going to drop it by your place. You must be Norris Interiors and this”—he hoisted the package a bit higher—“would be your stationery.”

Oh good Lord, the man had an accent. English, Australian, South African—wherever it was from, it was amazing and every bit as sexy as the rest of him.

Nikki giggled nervously. “I’m so sorry. I accidentally opened your—your
stuff
.” She was too embarrassed to say lingerie.
Who’d he buy it for—his wife? Girlfriend?
She could feel her cheeks turning red.

“Just moving in, are you?” he asked, running his free hand through his wavy brown hair. “Welcome to the building.”

“Ah, yeah.” Nikki could hardly speak, suddenly aware that her hair was in a lopsided ponytail, her oversize slippers were covered in paint, and she had on a pair of disgusting sweatpants and an old football jersey that had belonged to Matthew. And not a stitch of makeup.

“This is a little heavy. Let me help you,” he said, swapping boxes with her.

“No, I’m good.” She collected the package in her arms. “Got it. Really—I’m good, thanks.”

“You sure now?”

“Oh yeah. I’m sure.”

“All right then. I’m Troy, by the way. Troy Dallas, but everyone calls me Dallas. If you need anything, give a knock.”

“Troy. Dallas.” She sighed. She heard herself actually sigh.

“And what do I call you other than Norris Interiors?”

“Oh yeah. Sorry. Nikki. I’m Nikki Norris—your ah, neighborhood postal inspector.”

“Well, all right then.” He smiled, and of course the man had perfect teeth. “Good to meet you, Nikki Norris.”

Chapter Two

Cute girl. Very cute. Troy Dallas smiled as he closed the door behind him. He set the box down without bothering to open it. He knew what was inside—all the pieces for next week’s lingerie shoot. He could only imagine what his new neighbor must have thought when she accidently opened the box. He looked around his loft filled with cameras, tripods and backdrops, wardrobe racks, sandbags, and lighting equipment. He had work to do, but it could wait. He was more interested in reading the newspaper than editing through the hundreds of photographs for the fall fashion spread.

Heading toward the couch, he heard a ruckus out in the hallway, followed by a woman saying, “Shit. Goddammit. Sh-it—tt.” Dallas laughed to himself. That had to be his new neighbor Nikki Norris.

He opened his front door and saw her standing before a tumble of moving boxes at her feet. She looked up, red-cheeked. Although embarrassed, she was adorable. A natural beauty. Skin white as porcelain, huge brown eyes, and lustrous dark hair. The girl was a knockout, and he itched to photograph her just as she was. Even clean-faced, she was gorgeous. He’d seen top models without any makeup, and it was scary what lurked beneath all that pancake and powder.

“Here,” he said, stepping out in the hallway. “Let me—” They both leaned forward at the exact same time and bumped heads.

They laughed. She playfully rubbed her forehead, and as she straightened up, her body brushed against his, sending a rush of heat straight to his groin.

She apologized—as if he’d minded one bit.

“Let me get those for you,” he said, wrangling up the scattered boxes, unable to think clearly as his eyes rode up the length of her body. He tried to imagine what she had going on underneath those baggy sweat pants. Her football jersey hinted at her nipples, and gave him an excellent idea of what she had on top. Man, it was rare to see a woman with real curves instead of those straight-up-and-down stick figures he was used to.

He realized he was staring and getting a bit turned on. He scooped up the boxes, tucked several under one arm, and grabbed the rest with his free hand, using them to camouflage the bulge in his jeans.

“Trash is down at the very end,” he said as he showed her the way. He broke down the boxes and stuffed them in the chute marked R
ECYCLE
.

“Thanks for helping,” she said. “Moving is such a pain.” She rolled her spectacular dark eyes. She seemed a bit nervous, a little awkward. She hadn’t once looked directly at him.

“Well, with any luck,” he said, bending slightly, forcing her to finally meet his gaze, “you won’t have to do this again for a long, long time.”

“Ah, yeah. With any luck.”

He could have sworn her cheeks were turning red once more.

“Well, um, thanks again.” She turned and put her hand on her doorknob.

“Any time, Nikki Norris.” He smiled and winked at her just as she closed her door.

Very,
very
cute girl. Definitely not the model type. Thank God. Between the lip implants, cheek implants, and chin and breast implants, it was hard to find anything real about them. Men always gawked at those women, but Dallas knew that if any of them ever tried to sit down and have a conversation with those wax figures, they’d walk away sadly disappointed.

But as for his neighbor, now there was nothing put-on about her. If anything, she was a bit self-conscious and shy. He found it refreshing. It was good to know that there were still real women out there in the world. And especially one living right across the hall from him.

His friends thought he had a dream job, shooting beautiful models all day long in swimsuits and lingerie, slinky dresses and trendy tight jeans. The women came to his loft and pouted their synthetically plumped lips, and posed and flirted with him and his camera. And in exchange, he was handsomely rewarded. The pay was phenomenal, and occasionally he got a cover shoot or a decent editorial spread that brought him a modicum of satisfaction, but it would never be the kind of work he really wanted.

He leafed through the newspaper, turning to the world news section, and lost himself in an article about the disappearing Andean glaciers in South America. He shook his head.
Yeah right, there’s no such thing as global warming. Bloody idiots.

A knock sounded on his door. Nikki flashed through his mind. She needed his help with something. Dallas perked up, striding across the room. He pulled the door open and his heart sagged. One of his models stood in the hallway. He’d forgotten some of the girls were coming by to have their head shots taken. Although she was stunning, he was disappointed. He forced a smile and welcomed her inside. He’d been hoping it was little Nikki Norris knocking on his door.

Chapter Three

“And tell me again why you’re whispering?”

“Because, Jenna,” Nikki said in a hushed voice, her hand cupped over the mouthpiece on her phone, “he’s right across the hall.”

“Who is?”

“My gorgeous neighbor. The guy you saw in my building. I’ve seen him twice already this morning.”

“Really.” Jenna giggled. “Tell me more.”

“He’s hot.”

“I told you so, didn’t I?”

“Oh God, he’s very, very hot. And he has an accent. English or something sexy like that. I could listen to him recite the phone book—it’s that good.”

“Wow. So what’d you two talk about? What’s his deal?”

“I don’t know. I got so nervous I can’t remember what he said. I could barely speak myself. I opened his package by mistake.”

“His
package?
What do you mean you
opened
his package?”

“Not that kind of
package
, silly. A delivery kind of package. As in a box. And it was full of lingerie.”

“Really.”

“And so I went to return it and apologize for opening it, and it turned out he had my box of stationery.”

“So what happened next?”

“I was so nervous I ran back inside my place. Then, a few minutes later, I tried to throw out the moving boxes and I dropped them all over the hall and he came out to help me. I was a total klutz. Plus, I looked like hell. No makeup. Sweat pants and a grungy top. And get this—he lives right across the hall from me. Oh no—wait a minute, I hear someone out in the hallway—” Nikki tiptoed over to her peephole. She peered out.

A tall, leggy brunette in a pair of skintight jeans and a halter top knocked on Mr. Sexy’s door. A beat later the door opened up and Nikki saw him flash that killer smile as he ushered the brunette inside and closed the door.

“Ugh,” Nikki groaned.

“What? What happened?”

“One of his goddesses just showed up.”

“Crap. Is it the same girl you saw yesterday?”

“Nope. Someone else.”

“Damn. So he’s a
playah
.”

“Ick.”

“Okay, maybe he’s not. Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“I bet he bought the lingerie for her.”

“Sit tight. I’m coming over. We need a strategy.”

“Strategy? For what?”

“For you and your sexy neighbor.”

Nikki shook her head. “Jenna, that’s crazy.”

“Listen to me. This is the first man you’ve even noticed since your breakup with Matthew. I’m coming over.”

“C’mon over, but I’m telling you right now, it’s a waste of time.”

“And why is that?”

“Because (a) I’m not his type. Clearly. Men like that do not go for women like me. And (b) even if I was his type, I’m not ready. It’s still too soon after Matthew.”

Jenna sighed into the phone, exasperation evident.

“I’m sorry, Jenna, but I’m not over him yet.”

“You know what they say—the best way to get over someone is to get under someone new. Stay right there. I’m on my way.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jenna arrived with bagels and cream cheese. They sat on the area rug and got down to business.

“Did you see him when you came in?” Nikki asked.

“No, and let me tell you, I did some serious loitering out in your hallway.”

“Well, another bombshell showed up. A blonde this time.”

“I wonder if he’s a pimp. Or maybe he’s running some sort of upscale prostitution ring or escort service.”

“I hope not. He’s too beautiful for something sleazy like that. But you should have seen that lingerie.”

Jenna took a bite of her bagel and in between chews she said, “Okay, we need more information. Do you think he’s married to one of them?”

“Didn’t see a wedding ring. But then again, I was too busy looking at his amazing abs.”

Jenna stopped chewing. “Wait— You saw his abs?”

“His shirt was unbuttoned. God, the man’s got great abs. Solid muscle. He’s beautiful.”

“Okay, we need to find out if he’s attached.”

“Of course he’s got to be attached. How can a man that sexy not have a wife or a girlfriend? We know he’s buying expensive lingerie for someone. And besides, he’s got all those women coming and going.” Nikki shook her head. “What difference does it make, anyway? I keep thinking about Matt—”

“If you mention Matthew once more, I’m going to hit you with this bagel.”

“I can’t help it. We had a really good thing. Maybe it’s my pride or my ego, but I want him to realize what he threw away. Is that so wrong?”

“Forget about Matthew for a minute. What’s the sex god’s name?”

“Dallas.”

“Seriously? That’s his name? As in the city?”

“Technically it’s Troy Dallas, but he said everyone calls him Dallas.”

“Okay, give me your laptop. We’re going to Google him.”

“Isn’t that like cyber-stalking?”

Jenna tapped her head. “That’s exactly what it is. And any woman with half a brain would do it.”
Click, click, click.
“Uh, let’s see now… Troy Dallas. Chicago… Here we go— Oh wait, that’s definitely not him. He’s like sixteen.”
Click, click, click.
“Oh—wait—wait—wait. Aha. Bingo.”

“What? What’d you find?”

Jenna took a sip of coffee and cleared her throat. “Holy cow. Troy Dallas, fashion photographer. That’s gotta be what all those women are about. Let’s see…” She scooted forward, closer to the laptop. “Look at his head shot.” Jenna fanned herself and flipped the laptop around for Nikki to see.

“Oh yeah.” Nikki swallowed hard. “That’s him all right.”

Jenna grabbed the laptop back. “Wow, he’s photographed Kate Moss. Shit, he’s done covers for
Vogue
and
Vanity Fair
. He’s the real deal. This is no small-time photographer.” She clicked on a few more links. “And Nikki, you’re not gonna believe this.” Jenna looked up, smiling. “Guess who’s shot for
Architectural Digest
?”

“What? No way.” Nikki swooped in and looked over Jenna’s shoulder.
Architectural Digest
was Nikki’s bible. Her dream was to have her projects photographed in that magazine. “He’s done a lot of work for them.”

“Girlfriend, Romeo across the hall is like seriously über-accomplished. Let’s see…” She began scrolling down the page, reading. “He’s from Manchester, England… He’s been living in the States for the past five years. Oooh, he’s smart. An undergraduate degree in political science from the University of Cambridge and a master’s from American University. Relocated to Chicago in 2010. He’s thirty-one. And…
Ding ding ding
. Single! And freakin’ gorgeous. And he lives right across the hall from you. How lucky is that.”

“He’s amazing. He is. Why don’t you go for him, Jenna?”

“Please.” Jenna rolled her blue eyes. “I’ve got my hands full with Tyler.” Tyler was her on-again, off-again boyfriend. Apparently at the moment things were back on with the two of them. “This guy would be good for you, Nikki. Even if he’s just a rebound.”

“Oh, come on. Even if I
was
looking for a rebound—which I’m not—he’s not going to want anything to do with someone like me. Look at him. Look at the women who model for him.”

“He’s probably bored to death with them.”

“Like how Matthew was
bored
with me.” Nikki bit down on her lip remembering how she’d looked at him, blinking past the tears, asking why.

“Why can’t you marry me?”