The Billionaire Next Door (Billionaire Bad Boys #2)(21)

Sure it was. She licked her lips and unlocked the door. Adonis ran directly to Tag.

“He really likes men,” she grumbled, miffed at having been bypassed. The Dane offered sloppy kisses to Tag, which he expertly dodged.

“He’s used to Oliver.” He scratched Adonis’s flank.

“You and Oliver are hardly the same.” Oliver with his gentle mannerisms and quiet midrange voice versus Tag’s calm confidence and low, baritone reverberating off her ribs. Oliver was like an uncle. Tag was like…a bad idea. In the flesh.

So why are you disappointed he’s not trying to kiss you?

“Adonis. In,” she commanded. The typically well-behaved dog tromped back into the apartment and stood inside the door, tail wagging.

“Thank you,” she turned to tell Tag. “For walking me home.”

“You bet.” He was already at the elevator and had pushed the Up button. The doors opened instantly. Another wave of disappointment she couldn’t explain covered her. She didn’t want him to pursue or kiss her. She didn’t want to be at the receiving end of a man who would use her and toss her aside. Yet the disappointment stayed when she realized there was no chance of lingering in the private entryway with her neighbor.

“’Night,” he said.

It was so final, she let out a sigh.

“Good night.”

He stepped in, hit a button, and the doors closed on his handsome face. She walked into her borrowed apartment with her furry companion, determined to shake off every last confusing thing Tag had made her feel tonight.

*



Rachel had tried to return Tag’s gloves the very next morning, the day after, then yesterday, at different times of the day and night. After earning motion sickness from the elevator, she’d finally determined he must be out of town. And the way she’d determined was by asking the front desk and lying by saying she’d found his gloves in the elevator.

The woman had smiled like she didn’t believe Rachel’s story, but at least she’d confirmed: Tag was out of town and expected back today.

So.

Rachel waited until after her shift, a really busy one where she could avoid Bree’s scrutiny. Her bestie had been consumed with prying out the details of Rachel’s and Tag’s walk home when Rachel had already told her several times nothing had happened.

Well. Nothing much had happened. She was fairly certain Tag warming her hands and forgetting his stupid gloves was a scam. The man knew women and Rachel refused to be another bee in the hive. He wasn’t getting her honey.

Enough with the metaphor.

Right. She was here on serious business. Return the gloves. Go to bed.

Her own bed. Because imagining Tag in bed was…gosh. Distracting.

Delicious.

She shook her head to dislodge the thought. Where he was concerned she was beginning to think she couldn’t trust any of her female anatomy. Her brain had its guard up, and as long as she wasn’t around him for extended periods of time, she could fend him off.

Yes, it’d been two months since she’d broken things off with Shaun, much longer since she and her ex were romantic, but in no way was she looking for a man to occupy her time. She had a very simple list of goals: find a job, get her own place.

There was no item number three involving sliding lips with her sexy neighbor.

Properly fortified, she knocked on his door three times and waited, gloves at the ready so she could thrust them in his face and go directly downstairs. Do not pass go. Do not attempt to converse with the guy who scrambled her brain.

Then the door opened and her brain was promptly scrambled. And scattered, covered, smothered…

Tag was wearing…next to nothing. No shirt, so his beautiful chest and shoulders were exposed, leading down to a pair of enormous biceps. He had a pair of large, white headphones over a ball cap, under which his wavy brown hair hung over his shoulders, half out of its ponytail.

There were no words. None to describe the expanse of his chest dotted with a faint bit of golden hair, expanding more with the deep breaths he was taking. Or the rippling six-pack leading to the perfect indent of a belly button, then to the delineated lines that cut a sharp V shape along his hips above a very, very, very low-slung pair of sweats.

By the time her eyes reached his waistband, she jerked them north to meet his face instead. His skin was covered with a sheen of sweat and he was breathing heavily, chest glistening with perspiration.

He took off the headphones and hat, smoothed his hair, and then put the hat back on. She watched every choreographed move like he was putting on a show for her and her alone.

Say something.

“Hi.”

Nice going.

Half of Tag’s mouth lifted into a smile. “Hey, Dimples. Come in.”

“No, I…” But it was too late. He’d already turned and was walking into his penthouse, his stride casual. Like women knocking on his door and him answering bare-chested was an everyday occurrence.

She followed behind him, and try as she might couldn’t keep her eyes from feasting on the way his tight butt swaggered across his living room and into the kitchen.

He nabbed a water bottle from the counter and chugged down several greedy gulps. She watched his throat move, his Adam’s apple bob. Even drinking water, he was a glorious sight to behold.

“I tried to return them sooner,” she said needlessly, waving the gloves before tossing them on a glass dining room table. Beyond, half a wall of windows revealed the dark city skyline. Tag had a great view. Given his penthouse was twice the size of Oliver’s, he also had a great amount of space.