Chapter 1
Amanda stared out the bus window at the dark, thunderous rain devastating the city. The bus skidded to a halt at the stop a few minutes’ walk from her apartment building, and her shoulders sagged. She would be drenched by the time she stepped into the foyer.
She tightened her blue company jacket around her and stepped off the bus. Her pumps and jeans were instantly soaked, and her shoulder-length, ashy-brown hair was plastered to her scalp and face. She did not bother to run and kept walking steadily down the sidewalk toward her building.
When she turned the corner past the bustling Pub & Grill, she was suddenly knocked off her feet by someone large bumping into her.
Amanda gasped as she hit the ground.
Winded and in pain, she sat on her rear in a huge puddle of rainwater.
“Fuck,” someone muttered harshly, and she looked up, locking eyes with the most ruggedly attractive man she had ever seen. He knelt and, hesitantly, touched her arm, sending a rash of goosebumps down her spine.
“Are you okay?” he asked. Amanda blinked, her gaze devouring the stream of water cascading through his thick raven hair and down his perfect aquiline nose.
“Hey, are you okay?” he repeated, giving her arm a little shake.
Amanda ripped her gaze away, nodding, as his arms gripped her upper arms to lift her to her feet. She noticed he wore the same blue company jacket and wondered which department he worked in, since she did not recognize him.
They were both soaked to the skin, and she was shivering now, whether from the cold or from shock after the fall, she couldn’t tell. His hands tightened, sending electric impulses through her wet clothes, and she shockingly wondered how those hands would feel on her bare skin.
Amanda abruptly shook herself free. What the fuck?
“Fuck, I’m sorry. This stupid rain. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he apologized. “Are you sure you’re not hurt? Do you live nearby?”
Amanda felt his eyes on her, and suddenly she was self-conscious about how she must look. She knew she was not pretty, but rather ordinary, and now also wet and frumpy.
She groaned inwardly.
“Hey, do you live nearby?” he asked again.
“Y-yes. In this building,” Amanda answered, motioning to the brick wall beside her.
“Okay, come on. Let me help you get inside and out of this ridiculous downpour.”
The best course of action was to seek shelter from the rain, since they were both completely drenched.
Amanda nodded, letting him hold her elbow as they headed for the building’s entrance.
The elevator was frustratingly out of order again, so they had to take the stairs. They climbed the ten floors in silence, and each time Amanda missed a step or stumbled, he tightened his grip on her arm to steady her.
Amanda mumbled apologies like “sorry,” “clumsy,” and “wet” to atone for her sudden nervousness as she walked beside him. She was extremely anxious about her heightened awareness of the stranger beside her.
She scolded herself, telling herself it was because of his proximity, but the closer they got to her apartment, the more her body tensed, and she was afraid of betraying how she felt.
However, his quiet demeanor did not indicate that he was even consciously aware of her.
When they finally reached her apartment door, Amanda turned to him, fully intending to thank him and wish him a good night, but when she saw his wet jacket and jeans stretched snugly over his muscular body, she knew she did not want him to go.
She reached into her jacket pocket for her apartment key, unlocked the door, stepped inside, and held it open for him.“Can I offer you a cup of coffee and a few minutes’ respite from the weather?”
He frowned, hesitated for a moment, then nodded and stepped inside.“Thank you.”
Amanda closed the door behind them and switched on the light. It was a single low-watt yellow bulb, hanging precariously from a chain in the center of the living room ceiling. The soft glow did nothing to hide the emptiness of her apartment, the lack of furniture and decor. It was cold, devoid of color except for the large rainbow-colored fleece blanket draped over a single leather chair.
“We-we should get out of these wet clothes,” Amanda suggested, shivering again as she moved further into the apartment. “I have a dryer, and it shouldn’t take too long to dry your clothes.” Her legs were starting to go numb from her cold, damp jeans.
Thankfully, she had done laundry last night, and a pair of bath towels was neatly folded on the kitchen counter. She kicked off her pumps and padded barefoot across the cement floor to fetch them. She took one for herself and handed him the other.
He nodded and smiled.
Her gaze fell to his mouth. He had a rather nice mouth. Briefly, she wondered what it would feel like to touch his lips with her fingertips.
Amanda blinked and hurriedly turned away, her stomach somersaulting.
She stared at the bath towel in her hands, momentarily forgetting why she was holding it. She shivered again and realized that trying to dry herself in this state would not help.
She needed to get rid of the wet clothes.
She hesitated, but her cold, shivering body prodded her into action. She hurriedly and awkwardly darted into the small bathroom.
With freezing fingers, she stripped quickly and patted herself dry. Then, with a jolt, she remembered she had forgotten to get dry clothes.
Fuck.
She wrapped the bath towel tightly around her and, with a quick “I’m done,” scampered into the bedroom. Amanda swore she had heard him chuckle. She grabbed a pair of gray sweatpants and a matching oversized sweatshirt. She dried her hair with the towel, letting it hang loosely around her face and shoulders.
Returning to the living room, she saw him standing in the center.
She had been unprepared for the intimidating male figure with a muscled torso and a wedge of dark hair that arrowed downward to the towel-wrapped waist.
She froze, shamefully drinking him in, then desperately looked away to find something else to focus on, hoping he had not noticed.
She spotted his wet clothes on the floor. She walked over casually to pick them up and headed for the kitchen. She shoved their clothes into the dryer and switched on the kettle.
It was ironic, she thought, as she waited for the kettle to boil. How many times had she daydreamed of a stranger coming into her life and awakening a reckless need for want and desire? An idyllic romantic dream straight out of one of her novels, and now she was facing the reality of experiencing such an urgent physical yearning for a man.
What was wrong with her? This was real life, not a book.
*
Several minutes later, she returned to the living room carrying two cups of coffee. Amanda noticed he was covered with her blanket and sitting in her leather chair. She walked carefully, still barefoot, across the cold floor toward him. She saw him paging through one of her books.
“Here you go,” she smiled, handing him a cup.
“Thanks.” He set the book back on the stack beside the chair and took the cup.
“I’m Amanda, by the way,” she said, walking over to the large industrial window and leaning against it, her back to the pelting rain.
His eyes narrowed, but he made no effort to return the courtesy by telling her his name. He just looked at her as he drank his coffee.
Amanda shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, her cheeks growing hot.
She could not deny that he exuded an age-old primal sexuality that could make any woman swoon at his feet. Admittedly, she had been attracted to him from the first moment in the rain. She doubted he felt anything remotely like her.
She could just imagine his reaction if she gave in to her impulse to touch him, and fuck knows she wanted to, only to be rejected because he did not find her sexually desirable.
A man like him would never look at her twice. She was the kind of woman who faded into the background because of her lack of looks and sexuality.
Dowdy, plain, and unremarkable, Amanda Walker.
She, anyway, lacked the experience that would make her even more of a disappointment to a man who clearly looked like he knew how to touch a woman.
Amanda hastily turned around to look out the window.
The rain was still falling heavily, and the city looked dark and gloomy. She sipped her coffee, watching the flickering lights of a nearby billboard.
How was she going to get rid of these unfamiliar, overpowering feelings? She should have just thanked him and shut the damn door in his face.
Amanda was so lost in her chaotic thoughts that she did not hear him get up and move behind her until his hands settled on her shoulders. Startled, she looked into the window glass to see their reflections, and her eyes locked with his.
She swallowed, seeing the look on his face, and her body trembled.
She watched, mesmerized, as his hand gently lifted her hair and he bent to place the lightest kiss on her neck.
Her body reacted instantly. Her nipples hardened, and an ache pulsed between her legs.
He lifted his head to look at her, and Amanda could hardly breathe. His hands slid down her arms, one reaching to take her cup from her hands and set it on the windowsill.
He turned her around to face him, and despite her lack of experience, she instinctively knew what was on his mind. It was all there, the need and desire in his darkened, dilated eyes.
*
