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Love Thy Neighbor

An Unexpected Love Story

Entangled Publishing, LLC

Nikki Norris shut the door behind the movers and looked around the new loft filled with items from her previous life. Storage boxes created a haphazard pathway, and throw pillows were tossed on the leather Belgravia sofa she'd gotten for a steal at a sample sale. The armoire, her pride and joy, lined the far wall. Everything looked cramped and out of place in the unfamiliar surroundings. But this was home for the foreseeable future. All seven hundred square feet of it.

She'd been through some rough times before, but nothing had prepared her for this. First her interior design business went under, and six weeks later, Matthew, love of her life, called off their wedding. But despite the recent turmoil in her life, she was determined not to curl up in a ball and sulk.

She picked up a box and hauled it to the armoire. Opening it, she pulled out a framed photograph—her engagement photo. Staring at Matthew's handsome, boyish face, she remembered the day he dropped his bomb on her.

He'd walked into their fabulous condo on Lake Shore Drive, plopped down on the sofa with the force of a man twice his weight, and said, "I can't do this. I can't marry you."

Opening the bottom drawer of the armoire, she laid the picture facedown and piled linens on top of it. It was time for a fresh start. Time to pull her life back together.

Gazing out the window from her third-story loft, Nikki noticed an impossibly long leggy thing with equally long, flowing hair pull up in a cab and enter the building. She realized this was the second such creature she'd seen in her building that day when the buzzer sounded.

"Hey kiddo, let me up. These bags are freakin' heavy."

"Jenna, what did you do?" Nikki pulled open the door as Jenna tumbled inside with two bulging grocery bags.

Jenna's blond hair was windblown and strewn across her face, strands hanging down in her enormous blue eyes. "I knew you probably didn't have time to go to the grocery store so I picked up the essentials." She pulled out two bottles of Cabernet, a hunk of Havarti, a baguette, and some Greek olives. "And of course we have the basics: milk, coffee, orange juice, bread, and eggs."

"You're the best." Nikki gave her a hug. "What would I do without you?"

"Well, you need to eat, sister. You're starting to get too skinny."

"Yeah, right." Nikki laughed. "That's something I'll never have to worry about." She'd battled with her weight all her life. From Weight Watchers and Jenny Craig to protein shakes, cleanses, and fat-sucking herbal remedies. She'd drop a few pounds and then yo-yo back up to where she'd started.

"The trick is finding where I packed the wineglasses," she said, searching through a box on the counter marked KITCHEN. "Not to mention the corkscrew."

"No worries. Ta-dah." Jenna produced a sleeve of plastic wineglasses and pulled a corkscrew from her back pocket.

"You thought of everything, didn't you?"

As Jenna uncorked the wine, she said, "Have you met any of your neighbors yet? I passed a real hottie in the hallway."

"Male or female?"

Jenna jutted out her slender hip and gave her long, blond hair a coquettish flip over her shoulder. "Now what do you think?"

"I'm only asking because I saw a couple of really gorgeous—I mean stunning— women here earlier today."

"Well, he was pretty stunning himself, whoever he was." She handed Nikki a glass. "Here's to your new place and to a new beginning."

They made the first of countless toasts that night, and before the evening was through, Jenna, with her type A personality, had half the boxes unpacked. No wonder she was such a good video producer. She knew how to get things done. Nikki called her the miracle worker.

With Jenna's help, Nikki painted one wall a deep burgundy that instantly transformed the sterile-looking space. From there, they hung pictures on the other walls, arranged her oversize furniture, lined her bookshelves, and set out her knickknacks while they worked their way through the second bottle of wine.

The next morning, Nikki woke up in an apartment that, aside from the collection of boxes hovering near the door, looked as though she'd lived there for years. She made a pot of coffee, curled up in her favorite tufted chair, and opened her laptop. She decided that today was the day she'd send an email to all her old vendors, architects, and real estate people, everyone in the business she could think of. She would let them know that she had just opened her own firm. That was the plan, only she couldn't get past the first line:

I'm pleased to announce the formation of my new design firm, Norris Interiors.

Looking for anything that would distract her, Nikki decided to take a few boxes down the hall to the trash. She opened her door and found yet another box waiting for her. Ah, my letterhead and business cards are here.

She brought the box inside and tore it open, anxious to see her new logo embossed on the linen stock she'd selected. Feeling through the packing paper, her fingers landed on something silky. What the ... She held up a black satin garter belt and lace bustier. There was more lingerie in there, but she didn't dare look. She closed the box and glanced at the mailing label. Oh, shit. It was addressed to T. Dallas in apartment 301. That was the unit across the hall. Great way to make a good impression with your new neighbor. Nothing like riffling through their deliveries.

She sealed up the box and drew a deep breath to psych herself up before she went back out in the hall. She tucked the box under one arm and was about to knock on number 301 when the door opened. With one look, Nikki's pulse took off as she came eye to eye with the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen. This had to have been the guy Jenna was talking about.

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."

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 RECYCLE.

"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.

"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."

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Excerpted from Love Thy Neighbor by Sophie Wintner, Candace Havens. Copyright © 2014 Sophie Wintner. Excerpted by permission of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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