Landlord Wars(44)

And nearly fainted.

My chest locked up, and my head felt woozy. Max was in a tan suit this time, only he’d taken off his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt.

Was it me, or had he gotten even better looking? He spoke, and my gaze rose from the patch of tan skin at his throat to his lips, and then I was having flashbacks to the kiss that had taken place in nearly this exact same location.

“Sophia?”

“Yes?” Why did I suddenly sound like a smoker of thirty years?

The corner of his mouth pulled up. “You okay?” He looked past me. “I’m trying to get a hold of Jack, and he’s not answering his phone.”

Right, Jack. “He’s not here.”

Max’s head tilted as he glanced down to my bare feet and the room behind me. “You just getting home?”

“I got home a little while ago,” I said, glancing back nervously.

He crossed his arms and tapped his finger on his biceps. “What’s going on?”

This conversation would be a whole lot easier if I could look him in the eye and not at the small patch of flesh he was recklessly revealing. Had he no idea how hopped up my hormones were after that kiss? “Jack’s not here, and the power is out in part of the house.”

His arms dropped to his sides and he frowned, swiftly moving past me. “What do you mean, the power is out? Did you blow a fuse?”

I frowned at his immediate assumption that I’d done something wrong when I hadn’t even been home. Some things never changed.

He headed down the bedroom hallway, and I followed close behind. “What are you doing?”

He looked over his shoulder. “I’m checking the circuit breaker.” He stopped, hesitating, and looked back as though just realizing he might have overstepped. “Is that okay, or do you already know where it is?”

Of course I didn’t know where it was. I’d only recently discovered my shallow orientation of the place. I knew none of the important things for an emergency. Did we even own a fire extinguisher?

I shook my head, and he rounded the corner to my room. My room. “Wait!”

Max had already entered the bedroom and nearly tripped over the tennis shoes I’d switched my heels for before going to my mom’s this afternoon.

He frowned at the shoes and looked up. “Is there a problem?”

“You can’t be in here,” I told him.

He glanced around, his gaze landing on the cream bra I’d torn off as well.

I stiffened, heat blooming in my face. Apparently, I was a post-work clothes discarder. And this discarded apparel was dangling from the single chair in my room, reminiscent of the underwear that had marked the start of our relationship.

I forced my eyes to stare straight ahead and not down at my chest to see if it was obvious I wasn’t wearing a bra.

Max lifted one eyebrow. “More unmentionables?”

I pointed my finger at the door. “Get out!”

“Sure. Though maybe you’d like me to show you the circuit breaker before I leave?”

He was so annoying, and that was a good thing, because I was no longer thinking about the kiss or the naked patch of chest taunting me. “Quickly.”

He reached behind the bedroom door to a wall-colored panel I hadn’t thought anything about because I wasn’t used to electrical panels. When a fuse blew at home, my mom was the only person willing to climb the rodent-infested terrain of our garage to reach it. It was kind of her thing. Though now that I thought about it, probably not entirely safe.

The snapping of switches sounded, and then Max closed the panel. “Do you want to check and see if the lights are on? If not, something else could be the problem.”

I gestured to myself. “You want me to go out there? Alone? While you stay in my bedroom?”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re very protective of your room. I didn’t even touch your silk bra.”

“But you noticed it!”

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “As any man would.”

“You go first,” I said, shooing him out.

He gave me the half shrug of a confident man and walked out of my bedroom and down the hallway.

As we neared the living room and kitchen, I saw that the lights were on. Whatever switches Max flipped had done the trick.

He looked around, seemingly satisfied. “Don’t worry about the fridge; it’s on a different circuit, and I heard it running when I walked in.”

I hadn’t even considered the fridge. I swear I was the responsible one at home—dumpster-diving through the garage not included—but you wouldn’t know it today. “Thank you,” I said.

He scratched his jaw. Usually he was clean-shaven, but today he had a bit of stubble, and it made him look less refined, more rugged, and ridiculously hot. “About the other night…”

My body returned to its petrified state of a moment ago. He was bringing it up?

I wasn’t prepared for my extremely hot, wealthy landlord to explain why he shouldn’t have kissed me. “Totally forgotten,” I said, feigning cheerfulness, and smiled for good measure.

He hesitated a beat, his brow pinched. A second later, he said, “I’d like to cook you dinner.”

My smiled slipped. “What?”

“Dinner? Food? That thing we need to sustain ourselves?”