by Mona Risk
Neighbors and More
High Rise Series
Romantic Suspense
by
Mona Risk
Kindle Edition, Copyright August 14, 2012 - Mona Risk
Neighbors and More
High Rise Series
Kindle Edition, License Notes
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used, reproduced, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Other books in Kindle by Mona Risk:
NO MORE LIES:
EPIC’s eBook 2011 Finalist.
Best Contemporary Romance at READERS FAVORITE.
RIGHT NAME, WRONG MAN:
30 Reviews, average 4.3 out of 5 Stars
BABIES IN THE BARGAIN:
Best Romance Novel at Preditors & Editors Readers Poll 2009.
Best Contemporary Romance at READERS FAVORITE.
The Long and the Short of It Reviews: Best Book of the Week
Night Owl Romance: TOP PICK
SAILING WITH YOU:
36 Reviews, average 4.4 out of 5 Stars
Other books in Paperback by Mona Risk:
PRESCRIPTION IN RUSSIAN:
Night Owl Romance: TOP PICK
TO LOVE A HERO:
Simply Romance Review: Outstanding Read
The Romance Studio: Sweetheart of the Week
FRENCH PERIL:
Night Owl Romance: Recommended Read
OSIRIS’ MISSING PART:
Night Owl Romance: TOP PICK
Table of Content:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
High Rise: Blue Waves.
Apt 404 -- Mr. Jent
Apt 502-- Carter Morton and Steve Bairey
Apt 1003-- Greg Partson
Apt 501-- Dianna Oliveira
Apt 1202 -- Julia Bairey
Apt 2101 -- Alexa Partson
Apt 2102 -- Dante Cantari
Chapter One
Apartment 2101.
“Alexa, did you kill Steve Bairey?”
Alexa Partson held her door ajar to prevent Greg from entering her apartment. How like her ex-husband to blurt a tasteless joke. One too many.
She shrugged. “Not yet, but I might soon.” She’d wished Steve in hell, and Greg too, more times than she could count.
“I… I…” At a loss for words, Greg leaned against the wall and remained rooted in the doorway, raking his salt and pepper hair with nervous fingers. What on earth had disturbed the selfish bastard? Watching him curiously, Alexa studied the ashen pallor replacing his usual tan.
“Greg?” Before she could ask the reason for his visit, he pushed her aside and staggered to the bar separating the kitchen from the living room.
He poured himself a Johnnie Walker, knocked back his drink, and refilled his glass. “Want some?”
“No thanks.” Should she remind him for the thousandth time that he didn’t live here anymore? But she’d never seen him so rattled. “What’s wrong?”
Beads of perspiration moistened his temples. He swiped his hand across his forehead and plumped down on a white leather chair.
“Steve Bairey drowned in the Jacuzzi an hour ago,” Greg blurted in one breath.
Her hands flew to her heart. “What? Is he...” she cringed, unable to complete the terrible question.
“He’s dead.”
The word reverberated in her mind like a gong in a silent room. “Oh God, no.” Dread clawed at her gut, choking the air from her lungs. Shaking, she slammed the door shut and sat on the sofa, across from her former husband.
“They couldn’t revive him.” Greg took a swig of Scotch and banged his glass on the cocktail table.
Shoulders hunched forward, Alexa entwined her fingers in her lap and stared at her dining table. Steve had stood there, in her apartment, only a couple of hours ago. She’d wished he’d go to hell and never come back, but she’d never… A shiver slithered down her spine at the spooky answer to her wish.
“I didn’t like him, but I’ve never imagined...” His elbows propped on the armrests of the chair, Greg echoed her thoughts. “He was a young, healthy guy, in his thirties. How could he have drowned in a hot tub?”
Too nervous to stay put, she went to the kitchen to get a bottle of water and slurped. “Who found him?” she asked when she resumed her place on the sofa.
“Mr. Jent. You know the elderly man in 404. He’s always lying in his lounge chair on his balcony at this time. He said he saw Steve relaxing in the Jacuzzi. But then fifteen minutes later, when old Jent woke up from a doze, Steve was sprawled underwater. Mr. Jent called 911 and the building security. The guard on duty notified me.”
Greg took his volunteer position as President of the Blue Waves building Association very seriously. He knew all the owners, remembered their apartment numbers, and kept tabs on their long absences and returns.
“Did you… Did you see him?” Annoyed by her stammering, she inhaled deeply and tried to suppress the nervous tapping of her feet on the Oriental silk rug. In spite of the air conditioner blowing cold air, she suffocated in her Capri pants and short-sleeved blouse.
“Yes. The paramedics and the police had already pulled him out and laid him on a stretcher.” Tension crinkled the many lines around his gray eyes. “They couldn’t do anything for him. It was too late. The medical examiner will have to determine the cause of death. I’ll keep you informed.”
“Thank you.” Not that she wanted to know more about the man who’d stalked her for months.
“I have to go and see Julia Bairey.” Sure enough, Greg straightened his tall frame and strutted to the door, eager to play his role of knight in shining armor. “That poor woman loved him, in spite of his cheating left and right,” he added with a knowing look that grated on Alexa’s nerves.
“Hey.” Stunned, she jabbed her finger into his chest. “I never slept with him. Don’t you dare make insinuations.”
“I know, sweetheart. I’m talking about other women in the building.”
“Listen, I’ve had it with Julia’s accusations. She’s never missed an opportunity to blame me for the failure of her marriage.”
“So I heard.” The Blue Waves building swarmed with gossip, all reported to Greg by conscientious employees and loyal board members. “I’ll check on you later. If you need me, call.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Take care of Julia.” Alexa accompanied him to the door and locked it behind him.
She was far from fine, but in less than twenty-four hours, she’d be gone from her sophisticated apartment to New-York, and maybe Paris, or anywhere, far from Fort Lauderdale and the many vultures who’d tried to harass or control her. Her stomach churned with disgust for her life in the luxurious Blue Waves building where neighbors lived too closely for comfort—and she was so lonely.
Oh Dante, why did you leave? Why did you forget me? He’d bee
n gone for two long months. Her gorgeous next door neighbor had probably replaced her with a girl from his hometown in Sicily.
Wandering to the wall-to-wall bay window, Alexa glanced at the children playing in the pool, the sunbathers lounging on the beach, and the magnificent view of myriad boats gliding on the ocean, on a glorious April afternoon. Too numb to be excited by sceneries she’d always favored, she locked her heart against sentimental regrets and strode to her bedroom where she’d already packed two suitcases.
Get a grip, girl. She needed space to be herself and breathe freely. She’d leave first thing tomorrow, while her nosy neighbors still slept. Would they call her a quitter and other malicious names as they’d called her mother? Maybe the beautiful Annabelle had gone through the same hell before running away with her lover.
Unable to stay a moment longer in her apartment, she slipped on a bikini covered with shorts and a see-through top, ready to go for a last swim and a farewell walk on the beach. As she opened her door, she was caught in a bear hug and pushed back into her condo.
“Oh my God.” Alexa squealed. Her breath jammed in her throat as Dante Cantari kicked her apartment door closed behind them and squeezed her against his chest. “Dante…” A masculine scent mixed with a whiff of lemon enveloped her.
“Cara mia, you are even more beautiful than when I left. Bella... Bellissima.” The Italian hunk in swimming shorts and tank top held her at arm’s length, and offered her a wide grin that brightened her living room more than a noon sun.
She was bella? What was the masculine word for handsome in Italian? Her gaze roamed over his raven black hair, curly and thick, and in need of a cut, a strand falling over his sapphire blue eyes.
“I thought you weren’t coming back. I thought you moved somewhere else without telling me. I thought...” Oh dear, she was babbling nonsense. Still unable to believe he was here, holding her, she blinked, glad she hadn’t left in the morning.
“Oh Alexa, I’d never do such a thing. You’re more important to me than you think.”
What do you know? Her wish had come true after all. Right away. She almost giggled. “When did you get back from Sicily?” To make sure she wasn’t dreaming, she stroked his chiseled jaw with her fingertips.
“Two hours ago. Just emptied my suitcases, changed into a Floridian outfit, paid a few bills. And then I rushed to visit my next door neighbor to tell her...” The intensity of his gaze sparked a rush of emotion through her blood. “To tell her how much I missed her.” He gave her a bone-melting smile that mesmerized her, and covered her mouth, darting his tongue between her parted lips, and exploring every recess with growing hunger.
Trying to free herself, she squirmed, and then gave up on futile talk as she relished his taut body and smoldering kisses. Caress for caress and stroke for stroke, she matched his ardor.
Things would be fine.
Things were fine. Amazing. Incredible.
Without interrupting his kisses, he hauled her up and strode toward her bedroom. A scenario she’d played in her fantasy every night for the past two months.
“Cara mia, I dreamed of having you in my arms so many times.” He gently slid her against his hard body and kept her in his embrace.
Their reflection in the gilded mirror above her dresser slammed her with the force of a hurricane. Sanity returned to her befuddled mind as they stood in the middle of her lavish bedroom. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Darling, I missed you so much and—”
“Wait.” She’d be damned before she admitted she’d thought about him day and night. Not when he hadn’t called her for the last three weeks. Anger flooded her heart at his casual desertion. She’d naively thought he’d sweep her off her feet, love her, and take her away to his beautiful island. When would she stop believing in fairytales and grow up? Dante had flown to his native land—alone.
“You missed me?” Raising her hands, she pressed both palms on his chest to ward him off. “Is that why you only texted a couple of lines to answer my messages?” She blushed, now disgusted by her way-too-eager messages.
“You’re the one who stopped contacting me.”
If she had any sense in her head, she’d stop ogling the biceps straining to bring her back against his chest or the muscled legs revealed by his swimming shorts. Biting her lips to avoid licking them, she averted her eyes. “You seemed so busy. You didn’t even question my silence.”
“Alexa, you can’t begin to imagine the problems I had to face in my hometown.” A heavy exhale escaped him.
Should she believe him? An international lawyer with a smooth tongue and determined voice, Dante could talk any convict into confessing the truth, or convince any stubborn judge to reverse a harsh decision.
Alexa arched her eyebrow. “You didn’t mention problems before leaving.” She tilted her head, imitating his voice. “Just a couple of weeks to attend my grandfather’s funeral. Now, don’t forget me.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Did you?”
Unfortunately, she hadn’t forgotten their last dinner at Aruba restaurant on the beach, their walk on the sand by moonlight, and their last drink on the balcony of his condo. A drink intermingled with music, dance, and passionate kisses that left her hungry for more. No, she hadn’t forgotten a single minute of their time together or his promise to call every day and come back to her soon. Good thing she hadn’t completely lost her head and tumbled into bed with him before he left.
Squinting at him, she summoned an assertive calm she was far from feeling. “What problems?”
“I had to help my grandmother after my grandfather passed. It’s too complicated to explain.”
Explain about his grandfather, or one of the pretty women from his old country and his past? But a few kisses under a full moon didn’t give her the right to be jealous.
Dropping on the edge of her bed, she scrutinized his face for telltale signs of lies. “Is your grandmother sick?”
“No, she’s fine. Nonna is a strong woman who always stood by her husband, but often imposed her own decisions.” Dante paused, his mouth twitching. “Suffice it to say, some local maf... I mean scum tried to drag my grandfather’s reputation through the mud. It took me two full months to clear our family name.”
“You still have an active Mafia in Sicily?” She hadn’t missed the word he’d tried to swallow back.
“There are bad guys everywhere in the world.” In other words, he wouldn’t elaborate on his grandfather’s possible connection to the Mafia.
Warning bells rang in her head. After she’d married a tyrant who was twenty-five years older than her, and recently struggled to keep a harassing jerk at bay, could she trust the grandson of a mafioso?
His scowl faded, replaced by a poker face. “Anyway, it wasn’t a fun trip, my dear. I’m not going back soon.” He shrugged, dismissing the personal subject. “Too much work waiting for me here. Besides, I missed you.” He pulled her back into his arms.
The easy grin lifting the corner of his lips melted her insides, and his eyes darkened with desire, sending her pulse into overdrive. He was going to kiss her again and she wanted him to. With her belly flattened against his firm abs and his bare legs rubbing hers, her body tingled in anticipation.
To hell with the Mafia. Her head reeling, she laced her fingers behind his nape. He tugged her lower lip between his and sucked on it, his palm caressing and kneading her back.
That felt so good. But...
She sighed and drew back. “No. Not like this.”
He released her and frowned. “Why not, mia bella? I think we both want it. Isn’t it time we started a relationship?”
Boy, she could tell he was hard for her. “Mmm…” Pushing him, she poked her finger into his chest. “No,” she snapped. “We still have a lot to discuss.”
He probably didn’t want her heart, just the generous D-cups above it. Like all Italians, he excelled at flattery.
“Ouch.” His fingers enfolded her hand
and firmly held it. “We’ll talk later.”
“Easy to say. You go away and come back, ready to pick up as if…”
He smiled smugly.
She bit her lip, not knowing how to phrase her frustration without revealing too much of her eagerness. He already oozed self-confidence, compliments of her brazen response to his kisses. “As if I should be at your beck and call, waiting for the moment you show up, so I can fall again into your arms.”
Which was exactly what I did, damn it. She couldn’t tumble into bed with him and later regret her bout of lust for months. But she wanted a night in Dante’s arms. A night of love, not of lust. She’d had her share of lust-without-feelings with her ex.
A banging interrupted her. Dante spun toward the bedroom door. “What’s that?”
She stiffened. “Damn it.”
“Someone’s at your door.”
“I’ll get it and be right back.” She checked herself in the mirror and smoothed her hair. Another knock on the door grated on her nerves.
“I bet it’s your ex.”
“Probably.” Her recent euphoria died as she remembered the turmoil brewing outside her little haven.
“You should tell him to stop barging in without an invitation.”
Why was Greg here, now? Couldn’t he ever let her enjoy a moment of happiness away from him? She wanted her moment. She wanted Dante. Why was she fighting her desire for the man of her dreams?
A quick look at him had her groaning. All male and handsome, he lusted for her and his scorching gaze promised to take her to heaven and back. “Well, hurry up. It’s not particularly exciting to imagine you with your ex.”
As if to confirm it, another knock pounded loudly. After closing her bedroom door, she rushed toward the living room.
“Coming,” she called between gritted teeth.
I hate you, Greg Partson.
****
Alexa skated to the front door and pulled it open while blocking the doorway.
“What took you so long?” The assessing gleam in Greg’s gray eyes turned suspicious as he peered above her shoulder and scanned the living room.