Neighbors with Benefits (Anderson Brothers, #2)(5)

She sat back on her heels and brushed escaped hair from her face, and then snatched up a black lace thong from the top of the pile. “The towels were probably enough,” she said, grabbing another pair of panties from the dry section of clothes. “Now I have to wash all my clean clothes again.”

Clean? Who dumps unfolded clean clothes on the floor? “I’m sorry. I assumed they were dirty.”

“Do you assume things a lot?”

“My assumptions are almost always correct.”

“But not this time.”

He smiled. “Clearly not.”

As she pulled another lacy scrap of lingerie from the pile on the floor—this one appeared to be a teddy type of thing—he stifled a groan at the image running through his mind of her wearing it…it and the other pieces of lace and satin clutched in her fist. Noticing his stare, she balled them up and blushed. Maybe she had some self-consciousness after all. Following a quick circle to check out the floor, her stance relaxed and she took a deep breath. “So, do you live on this floor?”

Again, she’d thrown him off balance. He’d assumed she knew who he was. Most people did—if not from business journals, then from the news outlets or tabloids. His concerted effort to refine his image and bring his name and that of Anderson Enterprises to the forefront of the business world made him a near celebrity in some circles. Obviously, this girl didn’t get out much…or she didn’t care, which puzzled him more. “Yes. I live in 1206.”

She passed him and headed into her bedroom. “Apartment 1206… Is that across the hall?”

“No.” He pointed to their adjoining wall. “It’s next door to you.”

She froze. Then her shoulders stiffened and she straightened, spine rigid.

Rigid, his psychiatrist’s favorite word to describe him.

As a scowl darkened her face, the entire world seemed to stand still, except the dog, who nonchalantly strolled to the foot of the bed, yawned, and then lifted his leg on Michael’s thousand-dollar custom made shoes.





Chapter Two


Mia closed her eyes and counted. Breathe in four, out eight. In four, out eight. She wasn’t sure whether she was disappointed or mad, but once she was sure she wouldn’t go all Taz on the guy, she faced him. “You’re the * who keeps reporting me to the building security officer.”

At least he showed some smarts and kept his mouth shut, eyes flitting to the panties clutched to her chest, then back to her face, then down at Clancy who had just peed in his shoe. She almost felt sorry for the guy, but then she remembered her last phone call with Ms. Braxton. She’d been pretty sure the woman was going to fire her and kick her out because of the calls from building security. “One more phone call, and you’re gone,” Ellen Braxton had yelled. If she sent Mia packing, she’d have no place to live for the next couple of weeks and wouldn’t be able to keep working at Heart’s Home. It was the first job she’d ever loved, and she hated even the thought of losing it.

“Out,” Mia shouted from the bathroom doorway. “Get out of here. I almost lost my place to live because of you.”

“I have lost a place to live because of you,” he replied picking up his shoes. “I can’t even sleep as a result of your noise.”

“Out!” She gestured to the bedroom door, forgetting she still clutched a fistful of undergarments. Perfect. She should market this. The Panty Pointer. All it needed was a laser. No. Clearly it worked without one. His unnerving blue eyes locked on the purple thong with the bow on the back hanging from her pinky finger.

After he delivered an eye roll she probably deserved, he headed out of the bedroom.

“You don’t sleep anyway,” she shouted as he squeezed by the chair he’d stood on to remove the battery from the alarm over the front door.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice was level and calm. Almost too controlled—which irked her. She wanted to crack that calm. See this perfect man ruffled.

“Oh, oooooh!” she moaned, imitating a number of women she’d heard through the walls before she’d cranked tunes to drown them out. “Ahhhh, yes,” she added with enthusiasm, pleased by the stunned look on his face.

Unfair, that’s what it was. To lie there alone every night, regretting all the crap decisions she’d made over the years, while her * neighbor got laid simply because he was rich. At least that’s what Ms. Braxton had told her about him. Rich, and stuck up, and the ultimate control freak who should be avoided at all costs. “Yes, baby. Mmmm. There! Oh, more!” she continued when he simply stared at her slack-jawed.

He shook his head as if to clear it, and then turned to leave.

“Hold on,” she said. “What about Clancy?”

A confused expression crossed his face as if he didn’t recognize the name.

“The dog?” she said, pointing to Clancy who was curled up on Gladys’s afghan in the corner. Gladys was Mia’s favorite resident at Heart’s Home. She always acted grouchy, but Mia knew it was just a coping mechanism. Maybe this guy’s calm demeanor served the same purpose. You can’t get hurt if you keep people at arm’s length. If only Mia could do that. She should do that, especially with attractive men. Men like Michael Anderson. “Please leave.”