Read an excerpt below.
Chapter One
“Do you have a few condoms I can borrow?” asked the hunk standing in her doorway.
Celeste chewed and swallowed the handful of popcorn she’d just stuffed in her mouth. “Borrow?” she mumbled as her tongue worked to dislodge a kernel stuck in her back tooth.
“Yeah, borrow. I’ll get them back to you tomorrow.” His voice was deep, smooth and seductive like the jazz she loved to listen to late at night. His eyes were inviting and the rest of him was sexy as hell, but it was after midnight and she was home alone.
The short hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and her heart rate sped up. Celeste gripped the open door and looked the stranger up and down. Narrowing her eyes, she evaluated the bottle of wine and threatening-looking corkscrew he held. “How did you get onto this floor? You need a keycard and a code to access the penthouse.”
He scowled at her for a moment and then raised an eyebrow. A hint of a devious grin lifted the corner of his mouth. “I live here. The management introduced us. Don’t you remember?” He stretched his well-toned arm out using the bottle to point to the open door a few yards down the polished hallway. “I’m Kentucky. I bought the other unit on this floor. I moved in last night.” He tucked the wine under his left arm and extended an open hand. “You can call me Ken.”
Celeste’s nipples tightened as she gazed up at six and a half feet of muscle standing in her doorway. Any anxiety she might have felt about a stranger knocking on her door at midnight faded away. Replacing it was an increasingly urgent need to stand on her tiptoes and taste his thick sexy lips.
How could I forget this piece of eye candy? I’m going to have to stop working so hard. She ran her gaze up and down his frame. She stopped at his chest, which was tightly wrapped in a T-shirt with the name of his employer. The conversation when they were introduced all came back to her.
“Your new neighbor, he plays football for the Stars. You’ll be sharing the penthouse,” the young girl working in the management office whispered to Celeste one day while she picked up her mail. They’d been introduced while he was busy completing paperwork and Celeste hadn’t paid much attention to who she was meeting. She’d been too focused on the details of her own work. “You’ll certainly get your money’s worth out of that unit. He’s going to be Prestige Towers’ most eligible catch.”
His hand now hung in the air waiting for her to grasp, so she wiped the butter from her fingers onto her pajamas and shook it. His calloused hand enveloped her tiny palm, and he held on a moment longer than necessary. He squeezed, sending a shiver of excitement up her arm straight to her heart. “I’m Celeste. I remember now. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. I’ve been so distracted with work and all.” She bit her lip to keep from licking it in front of him.
“You really didn’t recognize me?” He looked a bit disappointed.
“No, I just meant that… I…” Her heart raced and she couldn’t think of the words to explain the mental state she’d been in since her husband, David, had taken ill and died.
In the months since he’d passed, Celeste moved from the old bungalow she’d shared with David to the newly built Prestige Towers. The change of scenery turned out to be just the thing she needed to get over her grief, uplift her spirits and give her a new sense of purpose. Celeste threw herself into decorating her new home and working hard at her career. While she still thought of David often, she no longer mourned him. Instead, she cherished the memories and looked forward to the future.
“Don’t worry about not recognizing me. I probably look different than I did on that day. So, do you have any condoms? I’m expecting company any minute now.” He raised and lowered his eyebrows at her, then began opening the bottle of wine.
Celeste thought about the unopened box of condoms hiding in the back of the closet. She’d managed to get rid of all David’s other personal items and toiletries; the one thing remaining was the aging box of condoms. A simple reminder of the passion they’d shared. “Sure. Let me get ’em. I don’t think they’ve expired yet.” Celeste straightened a vase of flowers resting on the entry hall table and brushed an invisible film of dust off the polished glass before turning and heading back into the condo.
Don’t forget. He has someone coming over.
Celeste took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of gardenia-scented candles and fresh-cut roses placed around her house. She let the anxiety, the unexpected excitement and sudden arousal float away with the breeze. She took a couple of deep cleansing breaths as she walked down the hallway, letting her breasts rise and fall under her flannel top in slow, rhythmic movements.
Celeste returned to the door and handed him the box of condoms.
“I’m sorry to bother you so late. I just got back from practice. I haven’t finished unpacking and I didn’t have time to go to the drugstore. You wouldn’t happen to be a designer or a decorator, would you? Your place is sharp.”
“No, I’m not a designer. I’m just tidy. Don’t worry about disturbing me. I’ve got jet lag so I was up anyway.”
Her eyes caught the glint of several tiny pieces of foil that had fallen to the floor when he removed the wrapping from the neck of his wine bottle. She glared down at the specks littering the carpet in front of her doorway. She looked up at her neighbor and then back down at the mess, frowning. What a slob.
How can he not see that mess he just made? Clenching her fists and grabbing the hem of her top, Celeste resisted the urge to say anything.
“Did you reseal this box or have you just not had a chance to break this open yet?” he asked, inspecting the box. “Still six months left before they expire.”
“No, I thought I was going to need them a few months ago, but I didn’t. You can have them.” She kneeled down to pick up the pieces of litter he’d just dropped and tucked them into the pocket of her pajamas.
“Sorry about that. Thanks for these,” he said, flexing huge biceps and leaning into the door frame. “So, why didn’t you need them?”
“That’s nunya,” she replied, wondering what kind of hot encounter Ken had planned for later. A man wouldn’t be looking for condoms in the middle of the night if he didn’t plan to use them.
“Nunya? What does that mean? Did he bring his own?”
“No. Nunya means: None. Of. Your. Business.”
“Oh, now I’m really curious. A man turned down a sexy woman like you?” He leaned closer and his body filled the doorway, nearly blocking the twinkling lights shining down from the foyer chandelier.
“No, it was more like I turned him down. Don’t worry about it. It was a while ago,” she lied.
“How long?”
“A while.” Celeste wished he would offer her some wine to sip on while she fought the urge to invite her sexy neighbor in. She felt his warm, sweet breath on her as he stood close enough to hug. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, bury her face in his chest and feel his arms wrapped around her.
“Well, I’m worried about you,” he said.
Celeste’s heart flipped. Worried? Was he really concerned or just looking for his next conquest?
Just how many women is he worried about? She folded her arms across her chest as a sign of protection as well as to hide her braless nipples, which were now erect and pointing straight at him. “Worried? Why?”
“I’m worried because it’s been a
while and you still haven’t had a chance to use them.” He shook the box of condoms before sliding them into his pocket.
“Well, don’t worry about it,” she said, laughing at his persistence.
“Maybe I can help. What exactly are you looking for?”
“Excuse me?”
“In a man. What are you looking for?”
“I don’t know. What makes you think I’m looking for someone?” she said, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes. She pretended to study the intricate patterns on the entryway rug.
“You don’t know? How are you ever going to find that special someone to use these with if you don’t know what you’re looking for?” He patted the pocket he’d just stuffed with the box of condoms. She glanced up to catch his ebony eyes scanning her. A smile lit the corner of his lips. “Am I your type?”
Celeste gazed at the gorgeous man standing in front of her and rubbed her sweaty palms on her sleeves. His muscles bulged under the snug T-shirt emblazoned with the name of the local professional football team. His team. The tight denim jeans he wore hugged his thighs and cock, leaving little to the imagination. Even his toes looked good enough to suck as they rested in a pair of shower slides.
Grazing his shoulders were glossy black dreadlocks that smelled like sweet tropical oil. When he spoke, the dreads waved like the branches of a palm tree seductively calling for her to lie down under them.
Yes, he’s definitely my type.
