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  Her eyes narrowed. “I could name a ton! Virginia Woolf—”

  ‘“Really I don’t like human nature unless all candied over with art.’ I’ve always loved that line. Okay, I’ll give you Woolf. She laid it out pretty well. But Plath still has her beat on sheer morbidity, which I maintain you don’t see much of in female writers.” Was she—she was kicking off her heels. And sitting on his overstuffed sofa (gray).

  “Oh, please. Emily Dickinson practically invented the morbid female poet. Plath just made it hip. Where are those caramels?”

  Noah ambled toward the kitchen to scrounge some snacks. He’d wanted her to stay and chat, despite himself, but now he was second-guessing himself. Women like that, intelligent, gorgeous women, didn’t just follow him into the Land of Stormclouds. And if they did, by accident, he escorted them out. And for God’s sake, if they wanted to stay, he didn’t offer them refreshments.

  But here he was, hand out, offering not just the aforementioned caramels, but a can of Coke as well.

  “So now you’re candying me over.” She popped a caramel into her sexy red mouth. Was she flirting? Because he could think of a lot of comebacks for that one, but they all seemed a bit too forward. He settled for just grinning at her. Let her take that as she would.

  “So, Jaylene. Jay. What do you do for fun?”

  “I like music. I try to go out on Saturdays when I can, see some local bands. How about you? Are you from around here?” She popped the tab of her soda and gazed at him expectantly over the top as she sipped.

  “Oh, you know. I’m from around here generally. As for fun, I wouldn’t say I do much. There are a few shows I follow. I like to read, as you can tell, but I have to admit I’m pretty slow. If a story is skimmable, chances are I’ll regret wasting my time on it. So I pick books I have to kind of savor a few sentences at a time—are you laughing at me?” Her hand was over her mouth and it was kind of adorable. Even though he didn’t really enjoy being laughed at.

  “Oh, gosh, no, it’s just that you’re so serious and I asked you about fun.” Her eyes were still gleaming though she composed the rest of her face. Noah gave her a flat look.

  “Serious things can be fun.” She stared back. He held the glance, lost in the depths of her eyes as long as he deemed appropriate.

  “Okay, fine. I don’t have a lot of fun. I don’t go out much,” he admitted.

  “We should change that.” She winked. Definitely flirting now. Sweet. He opened his mouth to hit her with a bit of the old Noah charm just as she jumped up. “Ugh, I can’t believe it’s so late.”

  Puzzled, he glanced at the clock. Ten thirty was late? Ten thirty was like his lunchtime. Which reminded him that the caramels were basically the only thing he had in the house to eat.

  “You don’t live in the building, do you?” He thought he’d met all the neighbors now, all but the old woman who was apparently both on vacation and an alcoholic, according to the Dawsons. Who had accosted him at about minute three of living there. “Can I drive you home? I need to go grab a couple of things anyway.” He felt around his jeans to double-check on his wallet and keys.

  “Oh, no. Thanks. I’m just the next building over. You can walk me if you want. I’m taking these caramels, by the way.” So he was definitely going grocery shopping, then. He opened the door for her, ostensibly to be a gentleman, but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t half to get a better look at her ass in that tight dress.

  Jay hadn’t been kidding. Walking her home took exactly forty-five seconds, and that was at a very slow pace. Even though in some ways he was desperate to be alone and sort this out, he was also not sure he was ready for this—whatever it was—to be over.

  “Would you like me to walk you up?”

  She smiled up at him, dimming the streetlight with her sparkle.

  “I can handle it. I’m just there.” She indicated with her hand.

  Great. So now every time he walked by the first-floor apartment on the left, he’d be side-eying the window hoping for a glimpse of her even as he hoped she wouldn’t see him looking. Life just got infinitely more complicated, and he’d only been here for a few hours.

  “All right, then. Well. Have a good night, Jay. I’m glad I met you.” Should he hug her? This was the crap he never knew if he was getting right. It was easier in books, where everyone knew just what to do and when. But before he had a chance to start overthinking it, she’d moved in and wrapped her arms around him.

  Her scent was candy-sweet, sugar on honey. Forget whether it was too soon to hug, all he wanted to do now was grab her by the arms and kiss her hard. To see if it was even possible that she tasted as delicious as she smelled.

  She was pulling away, thank God, before he’d acted on the urge.

  “I’m glad I met you, too, Noah, I’ll be seeing you.” Since she didn’t look back as she climbed the steps and let herself in the front door (green), he didn’t have to pretend he wasn’t staring at her ass again.

  Groceries. Think about groceries.

  Five minutes later he was in the corner gas station stocking up on chips in a can, soda, and Bit-O-Honey candies.

  He didn’t even like the things. Well, he didn’t know he didn’t like the things, he’d just always thrown them out of his childhood trick-or-treat bags because they looked stupid. But honey reminded him of Jaylene, and he wanted to savor that, savor her, the way he’d told her he liked his literature.

  Liking his women like his literature. Wow. That was ridiculous. Or maybe—it was brilliant.

  He stalked back down the chip aisle and grabbed a couple of strips of beef jerky. Protein was important to a man’s diet. So was sex. So was intellectual stimulation.

  He dumped his groceries on the counter with an exasperated sigh. Obviously it had been quite a while since he’d been with a woman. And this one was stuck in his head like a bad pop song. That would be fine, if he didn’t have his work to think about.

  His job was not the kind of thing one did half-assed. Your head had to be in it, one hundred percent. And right now his traitorous head wouldn’t give him a break from the memory of her climbing those steps in that dress. Slowly. Climbing.

  What he could do to her on that staircase.

  The clerk had to repeat his total twice before he snapped out of it.

  * * *

  When Noah rolled out of bed, groggy and slightly nauseous from his sugar intake the night before, he was completely irritated with himself. Not for waking up at noon; that was normal. Irritated for looking at the clock and wondering what Jay was doing right then, if it was lunch in the staff room, or grading at her desk.

  This had to stop. Right after he took care of the other matter at … hand, so to speak.

  Ten minutes later, he was dressed and ready to go for a hard run. Sometimes turning the headphones up loud, matching the beat with your rhythm, and getting utterly lost was the only way to find your inner peace. And he had some good hip-hop cued up and ready to go.

  Outside his new building he squinted in the bright Boston midday. Rolling his head and shaking out a little, he considered which way to go. First run from his new apartment, it was a momentous occasion in its own small way. Might as well give in—he turned toward Jay’s building and set off.

  The first mile was always toughest. The worst part about habitually sleeping in was that he always seemed to be running under a blazing sun. On the bright side, he always had a tan despite being the biggest homebody he knew.

  As the first few blocks fell away beneath his pounding feet, Noah considered.

  Jaylene Kim was his neighbor. As such, he was bound to be seeing plenty of her. Or maybe not—they did seem to be operating on opposite schedules. But even the best- or worst-case scenario meant passing occasionally on the street, both in the freezer aisle of the corner store, seeing each other across the pumps at the gas station. Probably a couple of times a month.

  The one thing, the one thing Noah could say for absolute certain was that there was no r
oom for a woman in his life. His work didn’t allow for it, hell, his personality didn’t allow for it. He liked to be alone. He didn’t want to check in if his run took him across town and he decided to join a pickup soccer game. He didn’t want to go to bed early because someone else was. And he sure as shit didn’t want to be spending his run justifying this to himself.

  So he gave in again, and let his mind wander. It wandered up over the curves of her dress, and around her movie-star red lips. It followed the path of that caramel along her soft pink tongue. It meandered along the words that tongue had spoken, the banter he knew they’d have if he let himself go.

  He let his thoughts spin over and around her like a cotton candy cloud until he felt sugar-sick all over again and then he let it go. Enough of the beautiful intelligent neighbor. He would be inspired by her from a distance, from now on. He had his job to do, and didn’t need any distractions.

  It was just not going to be allowable to become so taken with the girl next door.

  So why on earth did he find himself outside her window that night, throwing pebbles?

  CHAPTER 3

  Jaylene was feasting. It was Friday night, she had the weekend stretching out before her, all her papers had been graded, and it was time to party. She was refusing to admit how preposterous it was that she now considered it a party to let Pookie drink milk at the table while she smeared stolen caramel on stolen crackers and washed it down with stolen wine.

  So what if this was the fanciest Friday night she’d had in months? She’d rather be doing this than go out on the town with Blake Donovan. She almost spit her wine out at the very thought.

  That stuffy old turd, in his expensive suit, getting beer spilled on his expensive shoes at the new raw bar that was in the sketchiest up-and-coming artsy neighborhood.

  Oh, God. Now she was depressed. All the stolen goodies in the world couldn’t make it less sad that she was home alone on a Friday, dreaming up ways for a bad date to be humiliated. Maybe it was time to sign up for one of those online matching sites. After all, she sure as hell wasn’t hiring Andy Dawson as matchmaker.

  There were shoes in her closet she’d rather eat.

  Clunk. What the hell? The fucking squirrels around here were out of control lately. The other day, she’d seen one chubby and possibly drunk fall—actually fall—from a telephone wire. It looked almost embarrassed when it hit the ground, miraculously alive.

  Clunk. Throwing shit at her window was too much, though. She might be a feminist, but she wasn’t an animal activist. Those little shits would see what it felt like to get an acorn or two to the face.

  Clunk. That actually sounded like her bedroom. Oh, hell no. It wasn’t enough she slept poorly already? It wasn’t enough that the sun streaming in that damn window woke her not just on workdays, but ensured she hadn’t had a lazy Saturday since she moved in? It wasn’t enough that those little rodents owned the neighborhood trees, causing her poor elderly cat to have a conniption every time she napped in a window?

  Clunk. They now wanted her. Well, Jaylene Kim would show them exactly what they were up against. In her bedroom, she selected her least-favorite pair of stilettos. Hefting them, she smiled to herself. The many evenings of halfhearted dart playing in bars, waiting for the band to go on, had honed her aim. In the battle of Jay versus squirrel, PETA would not be pleased.

  Shoe in each hand, clunk, she slid the window open and leaned out. One long arm, complete with heel, snaked out as well. Her eyes darted around the oak in front of her brownstone, seeking out the culprit.

  Bonk. The next missile hit her between the eyes. Blindly, she reacted and heaved the shoe as hard as possible.

  “Fuck!” Well, that squirrel sure had a mouth on it, she thought as she rubbed her forehead.

  Wait—how many squirrels actually dropped F-bombs? She cracked one eye, then the other. Shit. The squirrel she had nailed was none other than the hot neighbor. Shit, shit, shit. This was why she never dated, she couldn’t even tell a squirrel from a hot guy. Shit!

  “Noah?” she ventured.

  “Jesus!” came the response.

  “Well … not quite?” How exactly did one respond in a situation like that?

  “Jay?”

  That she could answer. “Yeah! Um, sorry about the shoe. I thought you were a squirrel.” Now that her eyes were aimed at street level, it was quite obvious there was a cute guy throwing pebbles at her window. How she thought she was being attacked by wild animals was going to be unexplainable. His gorgeous, scruffy, now-bruised face grinned up at her.

  “People have made a lot of assumptions about me over the years, but this is definitely a first. Wanna come down?” She yanked her head back in the window so fast she nearly decapitated herself. Did she want to come down and spend time with a beautiful and well-read man? Obviously. But he’d been so hard to read himself the other night. Did she want to spend the next hour second-guessing everything coming out of his mouth?

  Hell yes, she did.

  “Give me five minutes!” Pants. She needed pants. How was her face? Was any makeup still lingering from this morning’s application? Did it matter?

  She yanked on a pair of black skinny jeans over her lace boy shorts. The Indigo Girls tank she had been lounging in would have to suffice. As for makeup, she gave herself a stern talking to. There was zero need to “fix herself up” for a man. If he liked her, it would be about her sparkling wit and clever repartee, not her winged eyeliner. Although—red lipstick was her signature, so no problem re-upping that. How was a woman supposed to be heard in this world without bright lipstick? She again stifled the inner feminazi as she dabbed on a touch of her favorite perfume oil. Smelling good made her feel good, so that was all right to do.

  Despite her hard words to herself, Jay paused before opening her front door and took a deep breath. Don’t think too much. Don’t preach too much. Don’t ruin your first Friday with a man in ages. Blowing air and mantras through her freshly coated lips, she stepped onto the stoop, only to have all the wind knocked out of her by the man standing before her.

  “Why didn’t you just ring the buzzer?” she asked. After all, it wasn’t like she wanted him to know how weak her knees had suddenly gotten. Now it was his turn to look like he’d been punched.

  “I … I don’t know. I was trying to be cute, I guess.”

  Damn it. It was cute. And romantic. Or it had been until she’d gone and threatened the man with a spiked heel to the eye. “It was cute. I’m sorry. No one’s been cute to me in a while. And it was surprising, is all.”

  He smiled, and she smiled back. Oh, God, were they going to stand here staring goofily at each other all night? Jay knew she wasn’t great with awkward silences. She was likely to bring up topics guaranteed to get people talking, which usually meant things that got them arguing, and before long they were back to silence again, only of a less-friendly variety.

  Luckily, it was Noah who broke it, though he was staring at his feet.

  “It was really nice talking to you last night. I thought, maybe since you don’t work tomorrow, we could take a walk and talk some more?” He glanced up hopefully, which was adorable since she was the one hoping he wanted to spend time with her, and not just demand recompense for stolen caramels.

  Instead of answering, she fell into step beside him.

  “Indigo Girls, huh? I haven’t listened to them much, but I dig their lyrics. What’s that song, ‘Closer to Fine?’”

  Jay nodded at him. She loved that song.

  “I have that on a playlist of mine for work.”

  “What is it that you do, again?” She still thought it was a little weird he hadn’t answered that one the other night.

  “Nothing exciting. Hey, I should let you know that I have no idea where we’re going. I got completely lost running today and had to take the Charlie home.”

  “Wait—you run? I run! How did we not talk about this before?” She stopped dead for a second and assessed him again. So that lean body
was due to running. Man, he could literally not be any more perfect. She was becoming quite taken with her new neighbor.

  They resumed their leisurely pace, not heading anywhere in particular. His hand found hers and clasped it. Her heart started pounding furiously. He was warm, and his grip belied his strength. She hoped desperately she would not grow clammy and gross him out. In the Boston humidity, though, it seemed likely.

  “I started running a few years ago. It got addictive pretty fast. How about you?” He resumed their conversation as if the entire world hadn’t just shifted on its axis at their touch.

  Well, she wasn’t going to be weird if he wasn’t.

  “I ran track in high school and college and just never got out of the habit, I guess. I don’t even know what I’d do without running anymore. It’s more like meditation than exercise at this point.”

  “I know the feeling. Were you at—were you at the marathon?” He looked distant for a moment, and she wondered where his mind had taken him.

  “I was home grading papers, which I can never be more grateful for. At the time, I was horridly upset about missing out. Were you there?”

  “I finished twenty minutes before. I was home again. I don’t really want to talk about it, though.” No Bostonian really did, so she let that one go.

  “Also, it keeps me on a decent schedule. I can’t stay up to watch one more episode or read one more chapter if I’m going to get six miles in before work.” He may have been upset about the race, as they all were deep down, but he also had impeccable manners on top of it. That was awesome. Except he didn’t like mornings—they were her favorite.

  “Now that feeling I don’t know. I am not a morning person.” No. She knew something was wrong.

  What the hell kind of job did he have? Who got to just not be a morning person if they didn’t want to?

  She thought about pursuing the occupation mystery again, but their conversation was going so nicely, she decided to stay on course. “I’m more of a night owl on summer break. But there’s just something special about getting up before the sun and seeing it join you slowly during your run. There’s hardly anybody out, and the city has a whole different feel to it.”