Aaron parked his Audi and trudged through the light dusting of snow the three blocks to Zara’s apartment. The trendy Lakeview neighborhood with its eclectic specialty shops that sold everything from ethnic food to funky art objects matched Zara’s quirky personality. Wrigley Field, home of the Cubs baseball team, was a short walk north.

He’d figured Zara was the one who engineered the pranks. Every time, they disagreed, he’d find something amiss in his ordered world. Last week, all the black ink cartridges in his pens had been replaced with blue ink. The week before, the only clean coffee mugs in the kitchenette bore the Cubs logo. On a different occasion, he found a pink cube of sticky notes on his desk instead of the green sticky notes he favored. As much as the little jokes disrupted his day, he looked forward to discover what she’d do next.

A woman with a stroller exited the door of Zara’s apartment building, and he slipped inside. Her first floor apartment made him twitchy. He preferred that she lived on a higher level for an added layer of security.

He rapped on her door and took a step away as it opened.

Zara’s over-sized black sweater hid her beautifully rendered tattoos. When her tattoos were visible, he longed to trace the lines. The skull pattern on her leggings seemed designed to make her look tough, but her doe eyes ruined the effect.

“You shouldn’t answer the door unless you know who is on the other side,” he said. “I could be a serial killer.”

“You only murder budgets and morale.” She waved a hand toward the kitchen. “Help yourself to coffee. I’m almost ready. Just need to throw a couple more things into my bag.”

He helped himself to a cup of the dark brew and searched the refrigerator for creamer. All he could find was coconut milk.

Cheryl loved the same sweetened creamers as he did and kept a variety on hand at work. On paper, she was his perfect match, but their commonalities ruined their relationship. Both put their careers ahead of each other, and sex became perfunctory. He’d moved out a year ago and vowed to never again date someone from work.

Thank goodness Zara volunteered for the trip. Cheryl had been acting strangely. He worried one of her goals for the trip was a reconciliation. He didn’t want to get back together with Cheryl. Zara was the person he couldn’t get off his mind.

Her unpredictability was as exhilarating as it was frightening. Until he met her, he’d thought himself allergic to surprises.

She was off limits. Unfortunately, his libido didn’t get the memo on his ban on dating company employees.

He poured a dollop of coconut milk into his coffee, added a couple of packets of raw sugar, and stirred before taking a sip. Different than he was used to, but not bad. The drink could grow on him like Zara had.

Something rubbed against his leg. He jerked and splattered coffee on his shirt.

A black cat blinked up at him.

“Licorice likes you.” Zara reached around him to scratch behind the cat’s ears. Her scent, a combination of rose and vanilla, stirred his desire.

“I like licorice,” he said, “but not the cat kind. I’m a dog person.”

“What kind of dog do you have?”

“I don’t have a dog. Well, I did have one. Tiny is a toy poodle.” He hadn’t argued when Cheryl insisted on keeping the dog, but he missed being greeted when he came home from work. Even if the one doing the greeting was dyed cotton candy pink.

“Losing your pet must have been awful.” She scooped up the cat. “Poodle, huh? I never pictured you with a purse-sized pet. I figured you’d own a big dog.”

“Tiny has too much energy to be contained. Will the cat be okay while you’re gone?”

“My neighbor will be watching Licorice.” She gave her pet one last cuddle and placed him on the floor.

“She has a key?” He really needed to have a chat with her about security.

“Yes, he does. Warren bails me out whenever I accidentally lock myself out.”

The idea of a strange man having 24/7 access to Zara’s apartment twisted his insides.

“Does that happen often?” He pictured a guy who fit perfectly in her life, someone spontaneous and quirky just like her. His polar opposite.

She shrugged. “Enough that I was glad he hung on to the key after we broke up.”

“We should get on the road. There’s a winter storm advisory.” His words came out clipped and formal as though they were at work rather than in her kitchen chatting about former lovers.

“Want me to put that in a travel mug?” She nodded at his coffee. “Or are you the type of person who doesn’t allow food and drink in his car?”

Being the youngest of four boys, he’d come to treasure possessions that weren’t hand-me-downs. He kept his three-year old car as pristine as the day he drove it off the dealership lot. Never had he allowed a crumb or a drop of drink to come anywhere near the upholstery.

“Sure,” he found himself saying. “A travel mug would be great.”

“Here you go.” She handed him a metal mug embossed with the Chicago Cubs logo, topped off her own matching container, and grabbed a foil-wrapped package from the counter.

“What’s that?”

“Pumpkin walnut muffins. Baked them this morning.” She squinted at him. “Your nose is all scrunched up. Are you allergic to nuts?”

“I have an aversion to orange foods,” he admitted. “Once my oldest brother left a Halloween pumpkin out on the porch all winter. A squirrel came by every day and nibbled it until the creature’s fur turned orange. Guess I have a deep-seated fear of turning into an Oompa Loompa.” He had no idea why he spilled his guts, but once he started, he couldn’t seem to stop. “Then there’s the pumpkin spice phenomenon. The leaves start falling and all of a sudden every food at the grocery store gets a dash of pumpkin spice.”

“Figures you hate pumpkin. You probably despise Christmas music, people dressed like Santa, and holiday parties too.”

He shrugged. “Guilty. The worst are New Year’s parties. Everyone tries to forget all of the horrible things that happened during the year. They make New Year’s resolutions that won’t last a week. And then there’s the whole kissing thing.” His gaze moved to her lips. “I’d be happy to carry your luggage to the car.”

“What’s this about kissing?” She bit her lower lip and he was undone. “You can’t just bring up kissing and not explain.”

“The kissing after the countdown. Either the person you’re with expects some earth shattering experience, or if you’re alone, there’s this pressure to find someone to kiss. In the end, it’s all hype and false promises. Better off drinking at home and going to bed early.”

“You’ve clearly been kissing the wrong people.” Her eyes took on a dreamy cast. “With the right person, the kiss will spark the perfect intimate connection.”

He wanted to throat punch Warren and deliver a knee to the balls. “If your neighbor is such a great guy, why the break up?”

The joy slid from her face leaving an empty shell. “Some people are better off as friends.” She slung a backpack over her shoulder, shrugged on her coat, and extended the handle on her suitcase. “Let’s go beat the snow.”

He couldn’t stop seeking the elusive electric connection with her, but if Mr. Perfect Match couldn’t make a relationship work with Zara, Aaron didn’t stand a chance. He’d need to keep his mind on work, so he wouldn’t do or say something he’d regret. In the meantime, he’d be taking plenty of cold showers.