That Sexy Stranger

by Nadia Lee

  But there’s a teeny silver lining. Tim wants me to work on the func and tech specs for David, and David wants to have a meeting after lunch so we can get started right away. Tim’s deadline is firm: two weeks, no more.

  Not much time, but I can work within it to make David realize my existence as a woman, not as a coworker or Jan’s housemate-slash-best-friend.

  I’ve waited over four years. A couple more weeks is nothing if it will mean the difference between a happy moment and a happy ending. I want an ending, the kind of grand finale that makes you go wow, with David convincing me he’s not only the love of my life but a worthy partner for all eternity.

  And unlike a movie, our grand finale will go on and on and on and on…

  But do I really want to spend the full two weeks on the specs? Just because Tim gave me that much time, it doesn’t mean he expects me to take that long with the boring task.

  I know our app inside and out, and what David asked for isn’t that complicated. We have a small team ready to start as soon as the specs are finished, and the new sandbox is going to be available on Monday for fooling around and seeing how the new upgrades behave. Based on the feature request sheet, I’m confident I can pull the specs together in a single week.

  But then that will mean only one week with David…

  Career, or David? Impressing Tim, or spending more time with David…?

  Why must the choices be so difficult?

  After about five minutes, I decide on impressing Tim. After all, getting my shit together has always been my motto. Even though he gave me two weeks, Tim won’t understand why I actually need to take so long unless David expands the scope to something ridiculous, in which case I’ll put an immediate stop to his madness. Besides, one week is enough to have David notice me…as long as I have a solid plan going in—

  “Hey.”

  Oh please God no. I must be hallucinating.

  A quick glance to my right, and I almost falter. It’s Luke, looking disgustingly fit and alert in a black Nike running outfit. An overnight growth of beard covers his strong jaw, and it only serves to make his lips appear…more intriguing somehow. Like—

  Stop. Don’t even go there.

  The weird thoughts I had on the flight were more than enough. And I’m not even drunk at the moment. There’s no way to justify my mind wandering in that particular direction.

  “What are you doing here?” I mean it to be hostile, but it comes out slightly breathless. I blame the exercise. It’s hard to be hostile when your system’s pumping endorphins through your body.

  “Eh, you know. I was in the neighborhood,” Luke says, keeping up easily.

  “You don’t live in this neighborhood.” Although I’m not friendly with everyone in the subdivision, I know who’s who, almost household by household, because I’m awesome like that.

  Okay, fine—I hacked into the HOA database when I was bored one night and curious to see if we had any weirdos in our neighborhood after ThaMaNDo—That Man Next Door—moved in and started dancing around in his living room…in the nude. I wanted to make sure there wasn’t anyone worse than a hairy naked dude. I mean, I have standards.

  “I do now.” Luke grins. “Got myself an Airbnb.”

  “I’m sure that’s illegal.” I swear our HOA regulations forbid short-term rentals. If they don’t, they should. Starting now.

  “Hey, I paid good money.”

  Damn you, unnecessary online commerce. I’m checking with the HOA as soon as I’m finished here. “That’s great.” I glance at my watch. Fifty-two minutes to go. “Gotta run.”

  “Is that supposed to be funny? You are running. I’ll run with you.”

  “For another”—I check the watch again—“fifty-one minutes?”

  “Sure, if you want.”

  “I’m not slowing down for you.” I’ve never done that for anybody.

  He gives me a look. “I’ll try to keep up.”

  I smirk. Let’s see how long that lasts. He looks good in his Nike stuff, but clothes don’t make the athlete. I’ve been running every morning since I was in high school. The only thing that stops me is really horrific weather—like, life-threateningly horrific—and I can go for an hour with no problem. Most people can keep up for a few minutes…until their lungs start to burn. I’m doing an easy day today because I went high intensity yesterday. But if necessary, I can go high intensity again.

  After about ten minutes, I realize my easy pace is totally doable for Luke. He isn’t even breathing that hard. The only sign of exertion is that he’s sweating a bit, sort of like me. I turn away and make a face.

  “Saw that,” Luke says.

  I paste on a smile so sweet it practically drips honey. “Saw what?”

  “That wince.” His gaze sweeps over me as though he’s actually concerned.

  But that’s ridiculous. Evil does not look at Good with concern.

  “If you’re tired, we can go slower,” he says as though he’s doing me a huge favor.

  “Ha!”

  Go slower indeed. I speed up instead. I’ll make sure he cries uncle before the thirty…er—I glance at my watch—thirty-nine-minute run is over.

  “Can I ask you something?” Luke says suddenly after about five more minutes. He doesn’t sound particularly winded. That really annoys me, because he should sound like he’s about to collapse, then beg me to slow down so I can laugh in his face and leave him in the frigid dust.

  I keep my gaze straight ahead and pound the trail, readying my most definite “no.” It’s obvious he’s about to ask me out. Why else would he be keeping up? Which, okay, is sort of impressive, because he should’ve dropped dead ten minutes ago.

  “Why David?” he says.

  What? I swallow my cutting rejection and regroup. “Is this a trick question?”

  “Nope. I’m genuinely curious.”

  I sigh, then speed up some more. It’s not even worth a response.

  Much to my disgust, Luke again matches my pace. “Come on, raven girl. Don’t be antisocial.”

  Of all the things I’ve been accused of in my time, being antisocial isn’t one of ’em. Since he isn’t showing any signs of suffering, I say, “Caw caw.”

  He laughs. “What’s that?”

  “A raven’s response. Now why don’t you jog on home and figure it out.”

  “No need. I think your caw caw means you consider David a spineless idiot, easy to control and deal with.”

  “I think you need a new Raven-English dictionary.”

  He pulls out his phone and pretends to check something. “Sorry. Can’t find one on Amazon.”

  “Why don’t you go home and search some other online bookstores for it?”

  “Well, I would, but… I haven’t finished my run yet.”

  Did he just claim this as his? “Excuse me, but this is my run! My peaceful time!” I say, unable to help myself. “You’re an…unwelcome gnat that’s decided to tag along!” That should be sufficient. I probably should’ve called him something worse than a gnat, but he seems to know people at Sweet Darlings. And unlike him, I care about my career and reputation, since I have no desire to be a “freelance nomad” anytime soon.

  He gives me a sweet smile, which I trust about as much as a Voldemort promise. “Take pity on non-raven-speaking me. Explain it to me like I’m five…preferably in English.”

  Guess he isn’t going to acknowledge the gnat comment. I should ignore him in return. With anybody else, I would. He’s still giving me that sweet smile, but he keeps up despite my actually fast pace now. He’s not going to give up.

  Persistence. You have to have it to achieve anything worthwhile. And I admire it. Just not in him, because he’s using it against me. I don’t go from no to yes—or vice versa—unless I’m presented with new, concrete evidence. And Luke keeping up with me? All that means is he’s fit.

  And he shows no sign of slowing down anytime soon, which tells me he’s in too good a shape to shake loose.

  Bet
he can keep up with you all night long.

  The sudden and unwelcome thought almost makes me stumble. Ugh, shut up, mind. I could’ve twisted an ankle!

  What I need is some solitary peace and quiet. I’ll give this stubborn mule something to chew on. “He’s loyal, faithful, smart, well-bred, and well-mannered.”

  A moment of silence follows. My answer was probably too profound for him to process, especially when the blood flow is split two ways—muscles to move his body and brain to turn the gears in his head. Absurdly pleased, I slow down just a tad. It’s easier to celebrate my victory if I’m not running too hard. And today’s supposed to be my easy day anyway.

  Then he starts laughing, and I finally just give up on the run. Whatever peace I wanted is gone, and I know it’s fruitless to continue with ThAssIMWa butting in. I come to a stop and, hands on my hips, turn my entire body in Luke’s direction. He’s laughing so hard he’s literally doubled over, one hand clutching his belly. I scowl. What I said could in no way shape or form be interpreted as a joke.

  “What the hell is so funny?” I demand when he keeps laughing.

  He wipes tears from his eyes. “Your answer,” he gasps. “I said David, not a dog.”

  I process the words, then gasp. “What!”

  “Loyal? Faithful?” His laughter grows. “Why don’t you add ‘rolls over on command’?”

  I stiffen. Of all the ridiculous…! “Maybe someone like you doesn’t get it, but those qualities are important to me. If I can’t find a man who has them all, I’d rather just own a dog.” And I’m serious, too. Life’s too short to waste on worthless men.

  Luke studies me, his hilarity slowly dying. “You mean it.”

  “Obviously. Why would I want to be with a guy who’s not even on par with a dog?”

  “Maybe because he can do things that loyal, faithful canines can’t to change your mind?”

  “Like what?”

  Luke gets a particular glint in his eye, then takes a step forward.

  Since I’d rather sprain an ankle than back down, I remain rooted to the spot. Besides, I know how this game is played. I have three older brothers. Guys always get blustery and invade your personal space, like that’s going to be enough to cow the woman they’re dealing with.

  Well, welcome to the twenty-first century, founding member of Club Caveman. This girl don’t budge.

  A small smile quirks a corner of his mouth, then one chilled forefinger lifts my chin, and he slants his head. Before I can figure out what’s happening—or what to do—his lips fit over mine. Unlike the cold of his finger, his mouth is hot…and as soft as I imagined on the flight. But that’s not all.

  His lips are also firm and controlled, and his mouth tugs at my upper lip. Every tug sends sparks of excitement along my back, and when he sucks on it, I feel like my muscles are turning into warm honey, one fiber at a time. He lavishes the same attention to my lower lip, and I dig my fingers into his hard biceps for balance.

  The air shudders out of my lungs, and I breathe in his scent—clean, with a hint of sweat from the exertion. It’s unfairly sexy. I always like men who use their bodies for something more than sitting on their asses all day. And from the way Luke feels, it’s obvious he does a lot more than just run. He skims his tongue along my mouth. And before I realize it, I’m letting out a soft sigh.

  His tongue slips in. He tastes intriguing—all male and wicked promises. My belly warms, and I feel an electric flare on every inch of my skin. He deepens the kiss, and I fall into the building sweetness of it, gliding my tongue along his and liking it too much. This is exactly what I imagined a perfect kiss should be.

  I moan deep in my throat. The sound surprises me. I’ve never let out a moan like that before—mixed with a bit of demand, need and pleasure. Tugging at the zipper under my chin, Luke pulls back. The moment my neck’s exposed, chilly air hits the damp skin, clearing away the lust clouding my thoughts. I start to step back, but he grasps my ponytail and bites the delicate skin over the pulsing vein in my neck.

  The sharp feel of his teeth stuns me. But instead of jolting me out of the pleasurable haze, it pulls me back in. His tongue soothes the spot, his hot, uneven breath fanning over my skin.

  “I’m sweaty,” I murmur in a half-hearted protest. Not even half-hearted. More like a tenth of a heart. In fact, I’m not even sure why I’m pointing it out.

  “A little clean sweat is hot,” he whispers. “I want you to be slick and salty all over when you scream my name in bed.”

  Oh God. My heart hammers as though I’ve just finished a marathon. Fresh sweat pops over me, and I tilt my head, desperate for more.

  A dog barking shatters the spell. I blink, and there’s Mrs. Nolan, her steps slow. She always walks her golden retriever puppy about the time I’m done with my morning run.

  I pull back, clearing my throat. Luke lets go of my neck, but keeps one hand at my waist.

  “Good morning, dear,” Mrs. Nolan says, her eyes bright behind a pair of thick plastic-frame glasses.

  “Hello,” I say, zipping my top back up. According to my hacking, she’s a retired English teacher. She probably also likes to gossip; she listed “local and neighborhood news” as a hobby.

  She looks at Luke. He shoots her a polite grin and says, “Hi, I’m Luke. I just moved here temporarily.”

  “How wonderful,” she says with a big smile. “Welcome. It’s such a friendly place.”

  “Yes, I’m discovering that.” Luke winks at me.

  My face feels extra hot. I glance at my watch. “You know what? It’s time I wrap up my run. I have lots of stuff to do.” That part isn’t a lie. I do have to get ready for work. But I also have fifteen minutes to go before I can consider my run completed for the day. Unfortunately, I have to get out of here…like, now.

  Before Luke or Mrs. Nolan can say anything, I sprint for home as fast as I can.

  Chapter Ten

  It doesn’t take long to reach the house, but I berate myself the whole way. I never, ever screw up my morning run unless I’m sick or the weather’s so terrible that airports shut down. I shouldn’t be sprinting like this, because it’s my easy day. And I definitely shouldn’t have ended my run early. Ugh. What’s wrong with me?

  That damn kiss threw me off. It shouldn’t have happened. Why did I just…let him? And that sound I made? No, no, no.

  I shake my head, even though no amount of headshaking is going to erase the kiss. How could I have just forgotten about my plan to ignore him as much as possible? Now all my good work is out the window because I screwed up. Kissing him back is definitely a sign of encouragement. Men may be obtuse as hell when it comes to “get away from me” signals, but they’re extra-sensitive if it’s something encouraging, even if it’s ridiculously minor, like a tiny smile.

  The wetness between my legs further intensifies my annoyance. It’s from the sweat. I ran extra hard today.

  Right. All that unusual moisture is just sweat.

  Shut up, I tell myself.

  By the time I’m back in my room, I’m still out of breath. My lungs are burning, my sides are burning, and even my skin is burning…especially the spot on my neck where Luke bit and licked it.

  Well. It’s probably because he scraped it with his stubble. There couldn’t be any other reason. And it didn’t feel that great, I decide. It was sort of scratchy…and made my skin feel all prickly and slightly warm. But warmth doesn’t necessarily mean good! No! Warmth can indicate diseases. Like…um…fever.

  After stripping down and tossing all my sweaty clothes into the laundry bin, I scrub myself with extra-hot water and soap, my hands rough with irritation. Once I’m finished, I march naked to the mirror and check the spot on my neck. Surprisingly, there’s no mark. My shoulders sag, and I let out a long sigh. Then I immediately straighten up. I should be thrilled my neck doesn’t look molested. Yes, that’s it. Thrilled. I sighed because I was…relieved.

  Right.

  After wrapping myself in a robe—b
lack, of course—I chug down two cups of extra-strong coffee. But the caffeine doesn’t give me the clarity of mind I’m after. The only thing it does is force me to realize I can’t make adjustments if I’m not honest about the current situation.

  Which kind of means I have to admit I wasn’t wet because of, you know…sweat. I’m not inexperienced or stupid. The kiss told me Luke would give me the kind of sex I’ll never forget, and I did want to scream his name in bed. I purse my lips. I still do.

  Since I have a little time before I need to get ready for work, I take my laptop and look Luke up. Okay, I hack into his Facebook account, because hey, a girl’s gotta do her homework before committing to any specific course of action.

  Ever since high school, I’ve made it a policy to review men before doing anything with them. You wouldn’t hire a person without references, would you? So why should I date a guy without vetting him thoroughly? I even did it for Jan when I realized things might get serious between her and Matt.

  Not that things are necessarily going in that direction between me and Luke. That’s not why I’m doing this. But since I kissed him—well, more like the reverse—I feel like I should know.

  Except Facebook yields very little. He’s single—which is good—with parents in Arlington, Virginia…but that’s all. He barely has any posts or photos. He’s had three updates since January, and one of those was “Happy New Year.” He has so little information that Facebook doesn’t even serve him any ads, which means he might as well not exist.

  And it only gets worse. He has no Twitter account, no Instagram…or anything else. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume he was indeed from the caveman era and didn’t feel comfortable using technology. Or he’s a CIA agent whose handler forgot to build a convincing backstory.

  Okay, girl. This isn’t a scenario from Free Radicals. Forget the pointless direction your mind keeps wandering in and focus.

  The government databases would have something on him, except I’m not crazy enough to hack into them. Orange is so not my color.

  Since his profile has nothing useful, I look up his parents. And get tons of hits.