Neighbors with Benefits (Anderson Brothers, #2)(16)

She gave a choked laugh. “This is it. All I own in the world. I’m kind of nomadic, moving housesitting job to housesitting job.”

The elevator dinged and the doorman relieved Michael of the dog. “You said you could go where you work for the night. Where is that?”

In the dim hallway lights, the circles under her eyes were pronounced. She ran her hands through her hair. “I do occupational therapy at Heart’s Home. It’s a retirement community two stops south. I teach art.”

“Family?”

She shook her head. “They travel around even more than I do. None I can stay with.”

Clicking through options in his head, Michael searched for the most appropriate solution to this woman’s temporary homelessness. Ordinarily, he would have simply let her go her way and stayed out of it. There was something about her that intrigued him. Something more than just setting him on fire when he kissed her. This was different than anything he’d ever encountered and he really wanted to figure out what it was before she moved on.

“You look terrible,” she remarked.

He felt terrible. This dog wasn’t rejuvenating his drive, it was wearing him down and negatively impacting his business. If only it responded to him the way it did to Mia.

He almost laughed out loud. Whittelsey told him to be more spontaneous and step out of his routine. Well, this was way off the agenda. “Okay,” he said, delighted by the simplicity of the solution. “I’m going to throw something out here that I think might work out to be advantageous for both of us.”

…

Douches. All men were douches. No matter how successful, educated, handsome, or smart they were, they were all the same. And here, she’d thought he might have cared about her just a little. Stupid thought on her part. She knew better.

It was his line, “This is more important,” that had fooled her. Well, that and the kiss from earlier. Not that she’d expected him to like her in any way other than as a friend, but hell, this was nothing but a business transaction. Cold, calculated, and anything but friendly—just like the man.

Leaning against the inside of his front door, she waited while he wrapped up the transaction. “So, we are agreed, then. No emotional attachment or friendship of any kind will be involved or expected. I will pose as your fiancé at the wedding, and in return, you will live here—”

“On the sofa,” she interjected.

“Yes, on the sofa. I’ll take the dog with me to work during the day, as I promised Dr. Whittelsey, and you will take care of it at night so that I can get some sleep and live a normal life again.”

His normal, ordered, scheduled-to-the-minute life. She rolled her eyes just thinking about it and took a seat on the sofa she would soon call home. “Normal doesn’t include my needing to drown you out with music, does it?”

Something—possibly irritation—flashed in his eyes for a fraction of a second before he resumed his characteristic calm. “Of course not. What do you take me for?”

Attempting to copy his air of control, she leaned back and crossed her legs. “A rich, opinionated, control-freakish, womanizing lothario who doesn’t like dogs and probably doesn’t like children.”

“Lothario? As an artist, I’m surprised you’d choose to paint me only with the widest possible brush.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t know the first thing about me, but you’re judging me.”

She huffed and brushed her hair out of her face. “Okay, fine.”

“Why are you acting this way? I’ve offered a perfectly acceptable solution to both of our problems, and you behave as if I’ve insulted you somehow.”

She did feel a little insulted. From the moment she met him, she’d felt a connection. She had no romantic silly notions, but she thought they could at least be friends and his “solution” expressly precluded friendship of any kind. “You need me a lot more than I need you, Michael. I have a place to stay for tonight. I can camp out at Heart’s Home. You, on the other hand, have a situation that you can’t solve yourself. You need me, and that’s gotta bug the crap out of you.”

He opened his mouth as if to argue, but then closed it without a word. She was right and he knew it. But he was right, too. She was behaving badly. A guy like this only saw the end goal. And this probably was his way of being nice—well as nice as he knew how to be.

“It’s a good solution, Michael. It benefits both of us, and fortunately, it’s only for two weeks. I’ll stop being a jerk. I’m just tired. Seeing Jason threw me off and I’m upset at how this thing with Ms. Braxton ended.”

He gave her a nod in reply, but what she really wanted…no, what she needed was a hug. Just a simple human touch to let her know everything would be okay, but Michael Anderson was clearly not the touchy-feely type. Well, not without an audience. He’d been plenty touchy when Jason was watching.

“So, do you have any spare blankets?” she asked. “We should call it a night so you can get some sleep before the meeting you told me about.”

After providing her with bedding for the sofa, he paused in the doorway to his bedroom. “It’s going to work out, Mia. We’ll…you’ll get through this. I’ll make sure of it.” For a fleeting moment, his features softened.