“Stop!” Betty interrupted.
“Heart, for chrissake, Betty. He had the biggest heart. What did you think I was gonna say?” Gladys arched a gray eyebrow and tapped her knitting needles together.
“I appreciate all the advice, but honestly, I think I need to go home and sleep. I have lots of time before he gets home and starts his shenanigans. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Ask him to stop.”
“Report him.”
“Ignore him.”
“Bed him.”
“Gladys!” Three voices admonished in unison.
Mia stifled a giggle as she stepped out onto the street. She had come to love the Queen B’s. Unfortunately, the job didn’t pay much, and the only way she could afford to continue working there would be to complete her next series of paintings that the Heart’s Home owners had commissioned for one of their other properties. That meant going home. Home it was.
As she emerged from the subway station, a sleek, black limousine pulled up to her building a block away. It was too far away to see clearly, but it was undoubtedly Michael Anderson and Clancy who stepped out on the curb. Figures he’d travel by limo.
As she got closer, though, she noticed something wasn’t right. His suit was soiled and even torn in a few places. His hair was mussed and he had a smudge on his cheek. Perfect Michael Anderson looked anything but perfect. And Clancy was a mess, partially covered in something black and gooey.
The moment he noticed her, Michael’s eyes narrowed. So be it. Two could play this game. “Rough day at the office, Mr. Anderson?” she taunted as she breezed past him toward the door.
“Yes, actually. It has been a rough morning—preceded by a rough night.”
Mia stopped before she reached the door. The limo pulled away, and somehow the man and dog seemed even more pitiful without the opulent backdrop of the shiny car. Pitiful and irritating. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh. Poor thing. Did one of your houseguests keep you up all night?”
A confused expression crossed his face, and then he laughed, dimples appearing. “Ha. No. But had that been the case, I’m sure you could have fixed it with some Weird Al Yankovic on continuous loop blasting from your apartment.”
He looked younger out here in the sunlight, his clothes all out of order. And his smile was gorgeous, dammit. Her insides did a little flip as she remembered how he smelled and felt yesterday. Nope. Not going there. “There’s a groomer just up the street. You could both use a bath and possibly a flea dip.” Not as good as his leash line yesterday, but still…
“Thanks.” He turned and headed in the direction she had pointed. No zippy comeback, no pithy remarks. As she stood there watching him, she wondered if perhaps Ms. Braxton had gotten it wrong. Maybe this guy wasn’t as bad as all that.
“The only thing that should be on a leash around here is you.”
No. He probably was that bad. Regardless, she decided then and there, Michael Anderson and his adorable dimples were way out of her league and completely off limits. From now on, he was to be avoided at all costs.
Chapter Four
It wasn’t bad music coming though his neighbor’s wall that pulled Michael’s attention from the Kawashima file, it was yelling. Well, more specifically, a male voice shouting from the hallway.
Not my problem. He turned his attention back to the file. Chasing the damn dog eight blocks and then having to pull him out from under a dumpster had not only ruined his suit, but had killed over an hour he’d scheduled for file review, if he counted the time to take it to the groomer and get himself cleaned up.
“Open the door, Mia,” the male voice shouted, followed by banging.
Her door opened and the male voice became muffled. She had let him in. Why? A better question was, why did Michael care? He didn’t. Again, he tried unsuccessfully to focus on the file. Only a word or two coming through the wall were clear, but it was obvious the man was chewing Mia out for something. Unable to curb his curiosity, Michael put his ear against the wall. He could only catch bits of the conversation, but the man was angry about a wedding or something. Michael padded barefooted to his front door and cracked it slightly. From where he stood, it sounded as if her door had been left open because both voices were clear.
“I told you to never bug me again. Not at my work and not here,” Mia said, voice harsh.
“Well, if you’d answer your phone or respond to texts, I wouldn’t have had to bother with hunting you down. Did you lose your phone again?”
“No. I was avoiding you. What do you want?”
“We need to talk about the wedding and the weird shit you always pull,” the male voice said.
“Weird shit?” she replied.
Michael stepped into the hallway and found her door open.