Neighbors with Benefits (Anderson Brothers, #2)(24)

He spotted bits and pieces of her everywhere: paintbrushes on the wet bar, a vase of flowers on the table. The vase had appeared last week after the carriage ride in Central Park, and she’d replaced the fresh flowers every day since. Cut flowers were idiotic to him—and messy, dropping petals and leaves. A total waste. There were many more permanent ways to enjoy beauty. Flowers were the ultimate expression of whimsy, which suited her, he supposed.

And then there was the ghastly yellow and orange blanket she’d told him was knitted by someone named Gladys at the retirement community. The only thing that redeemed it was that the dog preferred it to the leather of the sofa.

But worse, even, than the flowers or the ugly blanket were the photos of the damn dog. A tri-fold frame with cheap studio shots of the beast was displayed proudly on his mantle, the fussy mosaic print of the frame in complete opposition to his minimalist, contemporary décor. Next to it was the selfie she’d taken of the two of them in the carriage last week. This frame was even worse. All the little scraps and trash she’d picked up that day were glued around the edges—the bottle cap she’d picked up on the street, some pebbles from the park, the empty sugar pack from breakfast, even the label from the ice cream she’d eaten on the bridge.

His mind wandered to that day on the bridge and the way she’d felt in his arms, and he shifted in his chair. For days, he’d replayed that kiss in his head and it never lost its impact. Having her in close proximity had only fed what bordered on obsession.

Sitting on the ottoman with her back to him, she slid off her sneakers without untying them. A tiny freckle right above her waist to the left of her spine caught his attention. Soon, he would kiss that freckle and every inch of her. He just needed to find the key to her resistance.

“So, what are you working on?” she asked.

“You.”

She spun to face him, clearly surprised.

He held up the file and read the label: “Hermia Lysander Argarapolis.”

“Oh, my God. What’s in it?”

He held it out and she plopped down beside him in her characteristic non-self-conscious manner, not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the heat coming off her skin, even though his dress shirt.

Thumbing through the pages, her eyes widened. “Holy, crap. Why do you have this?”

“Well, if we’re going to pull off this fiancé business, I need to prepare, like I do for all my transactions, which means memorizing any facts I can gather about you.” That was only partially true. Yes, the information would come in useful in the upcoming ruse, and was the reason he’d requested it, but his interest in her went way beyond that, and it got more intense every minute he spent with her. He wanted to know as much as possible about her.

She skimmed her finger down a page about her education. “Well, it’s pretty freaking thorough.” She flipped to a page titled, “Relationships,” followed by another, then another. Complete with photos. “Maybe too thorough.” She closed it and set it back in his lap, fingers brushing his thigh. “You could have just asked me about my past, you know. I’m not elusive or mysterious.”

But she was mysterious. Completely unexpected. “I’m a visual learner.”

“So, have you memorized the file yet?”

“Haven’t even read it. I was distracted by your workout.”

“I’m going to be real honest with you here, Michael. Part of me is skeeved out by the fact you have that file. The other part is impressed you are going all in for this wedding.”

“I always go all in.”

She groaned and stood. “That’s the problem with you. You take things way too seriously.”

“That was actually an attempt at innuendo that clearly fell short.”

“See? You’re so serious, I can’t tell when you’re being… innuendo-ee.” She unwound the tie that held her hair and it spilled loose around her shoulders, shiny and dark, like ink. At least she wasn’t angry he’d had her researched. He was curious how she’d react, which was why he’d brought the file home in the first place—to kick the wasp nest, as it were.

“So, you run this kind of file on your clients, too?”

“Yes. Similar. Being prepared is key to success.”

She rolled her eyes. “Where do you get such a thing?”

“My brother, Will, has a friend, Jim, who compiles them for me.”

“You have brothers?” she asked with a mock expression of surprise.

“Yes.”

“I’d never have known. I suppose you have parents, too?”

He leaned back, arms across the back of the sofa. “I came from somewhere.”

“By looking around your place, I’d have thought you just spontaneously generated.”

What the hell did that mean? Ah. The answer hit him. “Because I don’t have any family photos littering the apartment. Well, that was a conscious choice. They would ruin the lines of the décor.”

“Or worse yet, they would make you look human. Give the place heart.”

“That, too.”

She headed toward the bathroom, barefooted and gorgeous. “My turn to shower.” She delivered a pointed stare to the file in his lap. “Study up.”

…

“He’s driving me crazy,” Mia said to the Queen B’s the next day, only really more to herself than anyone else. “It was better when he came home and avoided me. Now he intentionally puts himself in whatever room I’m in. Last night, he even watched me do my Pilates.”