She frowned. “Help me do what?”
“Cross out all those dirty items on your dirty list.” He offered a charming smile. “Look, it’s obvious you can’t carry out some of those, uh, activities, alone. I’m just offering my services, babe.”
“Again with the babe?” She huffed out a breath. “I don’t want or need your help. That list was intended for someone else.”
He paused. “You’ve got a boyfriend?”
“Yes.” She hesitated. “No. Well, maybe.”
“Which is it, yes, no or maybe?”
She fought a wave of exasperation. “All of them, okay! I have a boyfriend, a sort of fiancé, but we’re on a break right now. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“A sort of fiancé?” he echoed.
“It’s a long story.” She grabbed her clothes from the chair, then slipped her wet feet into her flip-flops. “You are the pushiest guy I’ve ever met, you know that?”
A thoughtful expression flitted over his face. “I’ve never been called pushy before. Endearing, sure. Charismatic. Drop-dead gorgeous. A real-life Michelangelo’s David. But never pushy.”
A laugh slipped out of her throat before she could stop herself. “A real-life Michelangelo’s David? Wow. You are so full of yourself, I don’t even know what to do with that.”
“You could do me,” he said glibly.
Her thighs quivered. Just a little. Oh, for Pete’s sake. She needed to get away from this guy. He was too freaking tempting, and right now, she needed to avoid temptation. She’d left San Francisco to think about her relationship with Bryce, not jump into a fling with a guy who had major over-confidence issues.
“I won’t even dignify that with an answer,” she said, taking a step toward the lawn. “I’m leaving now.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
She was halfway across the grass when he called, “Annabelle!”
Reluctantly, she turned. “Yeah?”
“If you change your mind, I’m in 2B.” His handsome features were the epitome of cocky.
Without answering, she kept walking, not allowing herself to breathe until she was inside the building. Her breath came out in a shaky puff. Jeez, why did he have to be so damn attractive? If she were here under different circumstances, then maybe…maybe she’d act out all of her wildest fantasies with this guy. But her heart still belonged to Bryce. Kind of. God, she wasn’t the least bit sure how she felt about Bryce. They’d been in a serious relationship since she was eighteen years old, living together when she turned twenty, officially engaged when she was twenty-three. And yet he’d broken things off, as if their entire relationship didn’t mean a thing to him.
Not a break-up, time off, a condescending voice reminded her.
Right, time off was how he’d phrased it. Well, she hadn’t wanted time off. He’d gone and made that decision for the both of them.
With an unhappy sigh, she went back to Christina’s apartment, suddenly cursing Ryan for ruining her day. All she’d wanted to do was lounge around in the pool, and now she was back in the apartment, sulking again. A tiny beeping caught her attention before she could head into the bedroom to change. Her cell phone sat on the kitchen counter, making annoying sounds that informed her she had a new voicemail. She figured it was her parents, as usual, but when she glanced at the caller ID, she noticed the call had come from Melinda, one of the assistants at the event company where she worked.
“Shit,” she muttered, draping her towel on the back of one of the tall stools by the counter and picking up the phone. She hoped there wasn’t some big emergency at work. Her boss had assured her she wouldn’t be missed, since October was a slow month for them.
She dialed into her inbox and waited for the message to come on. When it did, her entire body turned to ice.
“Hey, Annabelle,” came Melinda’s somewhat hesitant voice. “I know you’re on vacation, and I hate to bother you, especially with something like this.” A pause. “I was hoping you’d pick up, I hate to mention this in a voicemail, but…um, did you and Bryce break up? I only ask because I saw him last night at the Sheppard event and he was, um, with someone. They looked pretty close, too. I wasn’t sure if you knew about it and I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, you know, but I just thought you should know. Anyway…uh, I’ll see you when you get back.”
Click.
“To delete this message,” a mechanical voice chirped, “press one. To save, press two. To—”