Chapter One

When the door opened, Alice Shepard suddenly wished she’d had five appletinis.

Noah Thorpe peered at her from behind hooded eyes. And if his bored expression hadn’t told her he wasn’t interested in talking to her, his tone would have.

“Yes?”

She straightened her dress and then ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it. She could do this. Four appletinis and enough outrage bottled inside her chest to choke a bear virtually guaranteed enough courage.

“Hi, Noah,” she said, forcing a smile. She could do this. The worst he could do was say no, right? “Can I come in and talk to you for a minute?”

He paused for a moment, and the humiliating thought that he’d deny her even that simple request flashed through her mind. But finally, he nodded and stepped back.

She steeled her spine and walked past him into his foyer, glancing around even though she’d seen it several times in the five years she’d lived next door. But that had been for silly requests or neighborly things. Asking him to get a tree trimmed was one thing, and didn’t really compare to what she intended to ask now. And it hit her how very nice his house was. What did the man do for a living to afford such a place at his age? He couldn’t be much older than thirty. Family money?

Noah walked past her and his dark grey dress shirt brushed against her bare shoulder. She suppressed a shiver, smoothed her sundress, and followed him. And she did her best to keep from staring at the smooth line of his wide shoulders, and the way his pants revealed one of the nicest butts she’d seen in…well, ever.

Down girl. There was no doubt about it, Noah was attractive. Her sister had asked once if Alice’s neighbor was cute. The word didn’t apply. Even the word handsome didn’t do him justice. Erotic. Sensual. Dangerous. But never simply handsome. And certainly not cute.

With dark hair cropped close, a sharp jaw, and a Roman nose, he made her breath catch every time she saw him. But the chiseled features had nothing over his eyes. Dark and impenetrable, he had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

She half tripped on his hallway rug, but managed to catch herself before she fell. Noah glanced back, and her face burned.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” she squeaked.

It wasn’t fair. Not only was he handsome, but he had a body that promised to be lean and perfect, even though it had been covered in expensive clothing every time she’d seen him.

Well, every time she’d seen him close-up. A glimpse or two from her balcony while he took a midnight swim in his pool hardly counted. She couldn’t make out much detail in the moonlight.

Besides, fantasizing about him was pointless. She wasn’t ready to move on yet, anyway. She liked being alone. Sure, she got a little lonely sometimes, but she could deal with that a lot more easily than she could the alternative. On her own, she didn’t have to worry about keeping her guard up, or what anyone else thought of her choices. She didn’t have to go to the constant string of parties Brent enjoyed, didn’t have to watch out for his dark moods.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked when they reached the kitchen.

She leaned on the granite breakfast bar, ignoring the barstools tucked beneath it. He’d obviously spent a lot on redoing the home with the nicest finishes around. Granite and marble abounded, and the floors were some sort of dark, exotic wood.

God, yes. “No, thank you.”

She had to get this over with quickly. Before she lost her nerve. Before the alcohol content in her blood got any lower.

“What can I do for you, Miss Shepard?” He stepped away from the refrigerator and turned those brilliant eyes on her. She lost her train of thought. Her stomach clenched, and she could only stare.

“Miss Shepard?” he asked again, but his tone was different. Lower.

“What do you do for a living?” The kitchen smelled clean—almost too clean and fresh. The man didn’t cook much, she would bet.

“That’s what you came to ask me?”

No. Crap. “No, I—this is a nice place is all. A little impersonal though.” She glanced nervously at her surroundings. “It could use some clutter.” Had she just told him his house could use some clutter? What the heck was wrong with her? There weren’t enough drinks in the world to excuse the comment…at least from her mouth. They weren’t exactly close.

He looked a little bemused. “You think my home could use some clutter.”

“Well, kind of. I mean, it’s nice. Just not terribly homey.” Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. “Sorry. I’ve had some appletinis and—”

“Yes, I can smell them,” he said.

Double crap. Did she smell that bad? But his neutral expression didn’t support that theory, and if anything, he leaned toward her.

“You were going to ask me something? You’re not only here to insult my decor?”

“Um…sorry. Yes, I did want to ask you something.” But asking him then felt very wrong. She’d already made a fool of herself. Her stomach swirled. Oh God, too many drinks.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” The words escaped her before she could stop them. Dammit. The room churned.

Noah stared at her, apparently dumbfounded.

“Excuse me?” he finally asked.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, then turned away.

She practically ran out of Noah’s and across the short distance to her own home. Her front door slammed behind her, and she turned back and pressed her face against the hard wood. After a few seconds, her nausea lifted, but it was too late. Damn those appletinis. And damn her nerves.

It didn’t help that Noah was gorgeous and always seemed so polite. Since she’d come to live at her grandma’s home, he’d been a constant presence in the large house next door. And from the very day she moved in, she’d noticed him. Who wouldn’t? The man was over six feet of pure hunk.

She had to do something—and fast. She couldn’t afford self-pity. A backup plan, that’s what she needed. Maybe she could ask someone at work to go with her. Her fellow accountants might not match the muscly goodness of Noah, but there were a couple who were handsome enough. And they’d be a much safer option anyway.

She grabbed her cell phone from her purse and fumbled around with it until she found her sister’s name.

“Hidey-ho,” her sister, Cindy, said. Their usual silly greeting never failed to bring a smile to Alice’s face, but tonight she couldn’t seem to muster a grin.

“Hey, sis.”

“Oh boy, you sound depressed. What’s up?”

“I totally embarrassed myself in front of my neighbor. I went to ask him to your wedding.”

“The big guy you told me about? Wow. How many drinks did that take?” Her sister’s voice was laced with amusement.

“Enough. I’ll have a hell of a hangover tomorrow. And worse, I didn’t even ask. I lost my nerve.” She took a deep breath. “And, I almost threw up on him.”

“Well, hell—”

“But it doesn’t matter. Maybe I’ll ask someone else.” She kicked her sandals off and trotted into her kitchen. Unlike the spacious room Noah’s house sported, it was cozy and homey. And covered in flowers. Flowery wallpaper and rugs. Just like Grandma left it.

“You almost threw up on him?” Cindy laughed. “Too many appletinis?”

“That and too many nerves.”

“So why don’t you ask someone from work, then? You haven’t threatened to puke on any of them, I hope.”

Her sister’s words echoed her own thoughts, but a niggling of worry held her back. “I don’t know. It seems like that could make work awkward.” Even as she said it, she knew it was true. She couldn’t ask one of the passable men from work. That was just begging for trouble. She had to be smart, put her emotions aside. If she had to, she’d grin and bear it. Go to her sister’s wedding alone and look like a dateless loser in front of her ex.

Crap.

“Just come by yourself. It’ll be fine. I promise.”

“Is Brent bringing a date?” Alice asked.

“I’ll have to check the guest list—”

“Cindy!”

“All right, yes. He’s bringing a date. And yes, it’s her.”

It’s her. The words pinged through her head like a pinball. Suddenly, the appletinis pressed against her stomach again, full force.

“I have to go.”

“Alice—”

“Sorry sis, I’ll call you tomorrow.” She hit the end button on her phone and took a deep breath, grateful for the solid wall under her hand when she reached out to lean on it for support.

Slowly, she made her way to the couch and plopped down. She had to come up with a plan, but her thoughts didn’t want to come into focus. Cindy’s words reverberated, smiting any attempt she could make at a fully-formed thought.

He was bringing her. That meant they were still together. They weren’t just a fling. He really cared about Kristen.

He never cared about me.

No. She couldn’t let herself go down that line of thought. She had to pull it together, get her mind straight, and figure out a new plan. Going down without a fight wasn’t an option.

But heading back to Noah’s right away wasn’t an option either. Her stomach wasn’t reliable after the appletinis, and she needed to regroup. She itched to jump on the web and continue her genealogy research. Working on her family tree relaxed her. Something about researching her family’s history, finding interesting old snippets of their lives from so long ago, gave her a rush. But after all those drinks, she was in no condition to make sense of old records.

Instead, she got a few hours of sleep, and then formulated her plan of attack in the shower. Courage—not liquid courage, but plain old determination—was what she needed to ask Noah. And if he said no? Well, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

The next morning, the smell of coffee saturated the air, and she watched the pot fill impatiently. She’d just have to appeal to his good human nature. Noah was a nice man. He’d always waved at her when they passed on the street, and he even helped her that time she’d locked herself out of her house. Something about him made her comfortable, and she knew enough to trust her instincts.