Chapter Two
Why, hello there tall, dark, and…
Oh, shit.
Those were Gina’s first thoughts, swiftly followed by, Oh, no. Not the guy from 42B!
Of course he’d be the one to catch her red-handed. After Sabrina’s warnings that 42B was on the uptight side, Gina had been avoiding him since she arrived—and she’d been successful, too. Until now.
He was regarding her with a little too much curiosity. Or, more accurately, staring at the squirming bundle she’d tried to hide under her jacket.
Damn it all to hell and back.
All she’d wanted to do was buy her younger brother a dog for Christmas. Mateo had been begging for one all year, and Gina doubted their mother—sweet and caring, but self-absorbed in a ditsy kind of way—had even noticed. On Gina’s way back to the apartment she was currently housesitting for her best friend, she might have dropped by the shelter, just to have a peek. She hadn’t expected to fall in love with the ball of fur.
The shelter workers’ best guess was the three-year-old dog was a mix of Chihuahua and Terrier. All she knew was the scruffy guy was adorable in a goofy way with a floppy ear, a half-curly tail, and markings like a tuxedo. Sweet and snugly, he’d burrowed into her as soon as she picked him up. This dog was definitely the one.
She’d adopted him, then and there. No way was someone else getting their hands on her brother’s dog. However, that decision led to a plethora of problems.
The first problem was the fact that Christmas was still a month off—way too early to give Mateo his gift.
Her second problem was her living situation. She’d taken over the lease for Sabrina’s swanky apartment while her BFF was overseas on business for a few months. But the building had a strict No Pets policy. No fish, no hamsters, and definitely no dogs. If they caught her with a dog in the apartment, Sabrina would lose her lease for sure.
But how hard could it be to hide such a small dog? That’s what she’d told herself when she left the shelter earlier that afternoon, anyway. She hadn’t counted on how often she had to sneak him out to pee because he ignored the puppy pads she’d bought. Still, she’d managed fine all day. Total cake walk.
Except for the big problem now blocking her path to the elevator—Maxwell Carter, 42B in the flesh.
“Practicing for a role birthing an alien?” he asked, nodding toward the wiggling bulge under her hoodie.
Despite her predicament, a frisson of awareness slid through her. Oh, that voice, deep and seductive. 42B might be uptight, but he also happened to be arresting—deep blue eyes framed within a starkly handsome face, strong jaw with a cleft in the chin covered in dark stubble, and an aura of control that had a pull all its own. She had the strangest urge to loosen his tie and ruffle his hair, just to muss the perfection a bit and make him more human.
His curiosity shifted to a suspicious frown. She’d waited too long to answer.
“Just heading downstairs for a walk.” She hitched her hip and attempted to act casual. Maybe he’d look the other way?
“Uh-huh.” He wasn’t buying it. “That might be hard to do with a dog under your hoodie.”
Just then, the bundle in her arms gave a particularly vigorous squirm and she lost her grip. The dog tumbled to the ground with a thump and a yip. Then the previously calm animal sprinted down the hall, between Hottie McSmart-Ass’s legs and into his apartment.
“Hey!” he shouted, dashing after the dog.
“Wait!” Gina called, racing after them both.
At least she had the forethought to close the door behind her to keep the dog from dashing back out into the hallway. Unfortunately, any points she earned with that move were wiped out by the chaos going on inside.
She put her hands over her mouth. “Sorry. Oh jeez—”
42B, dressed in tailored pants and a black button-down—with a tie no less, on a Saturday—ran in circles around his couch as her dog evaded his every attempt to catch him, yipping excitedly at each close call. Unfortunately, several items already lay on the floor, apparently knocked off tables and shelves in the chase.
Please don’t let anything expensive be broken.
“Forget sorry. Just catch him,” Max ordered.
But the dog decided that would be a terrific time to squeeze under the couch.
“I’ll try from the other side,” she called.
She threw herself on the hardwood floor and took up position at the end of the couch, opposite from Max.
“Who are you?” Max demanded from his hands and knees as he leaned over to look underneath.
He wanted an introduction now? “My name is Gina Castillo.” She leaned over as well, providing her credentials from under the couch. Trying to catch the little animal’s attention, she patted the floor. “Here, boy.”
“I don’t come on command, usually,” came a dry voice from the other side.
She held in a snort. “I was calling the dog.”
He sat up to address her over the top of the couch. “Why were you sneaking out of Sabrina Lane’s apartment in the middle of the night with a dog in your sweatshirt?”
Gina also sat up. “It’s only eleven.” New York never slept, so that wasn’t a crazy time to be awake, in her experience. “And I’m staying at her place.”
Max shook his head. “If Sabrina wanted to punish me for turning her down, she didn’t need to send you and Fido.”
Was he really that full of himself? “Wow. I’m surprised you don’t need a bigger apartment to house that ego.”
He had the temerity to raise a single eyebrow in the most condescending way. “Hey, she’s the one who asked me out.”
Never let it be said a Castillo didn’t defend their friends—not even from stomach-clenchingly hot men in suits and pristinely clean apartments. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t register as more than a blip on her radar.”
Rather than respond to her snark, an almost comical flash of horror passed over his face. “Oh shit…I didn’t realize.”
“What?” What was his deal now?
“Are you and Sabrina a…er…a couple? Sorry—”
Gina shot up a hand, shutting down the apology he’d started, but couldn’t hold in the laughter that bubbled out. Gay was his go-to if a woman didn’t want him? “Not that it’s any of your business”—she shook her head—“but I’m straight. Sabrina is a friend. And I’m pretty sure she’s over your…turning her down, since she’s never mentioned it.”
He crossed his arms, not even seeming bothered. “Fine. Then if the dog isn’t my personal punishment, I should point out they’re against the rules.”
The escape artist must’ve heard his moniker of “dog,” which she’d been calling him all day, because the mutt chose that instant to reinstate his not-so-hilarious game of chase. He shot out from the backside of the couch, lost his footing on the uncarpeted flooring, and slid into the bookshelf, toppling several items from their places. That didn’t stop him, though. He bounded onto the gray leather couch, his claws leaving scratch marks she hoped like hell would rub out, then jumped across Max’s glass coffee table, upending what appeared to be a painfully expensive laptop.
“Dammit,” Max snapped.
Gina flinched at his justified expletive but didn’t blame him. She was thinking the same thing anyway.
Paws scrambling against the hardwood floors, with both Gina and Max in hot pursuit, the dog tore through the kitchen into a fancy dining room—again decorated with modern glass furniture—and proceeded to squat and pee right in the middle of Max’s fancy Persian rug.
“No. No. No.” Gina beat a now thunderous-looking Max to the dog and scooped him up. “Bad dog.”
No way could she spank him or rub his nose in the pee. Not when she’d made him stay upstairs longer than he could wait. Definitely not with those adorable brown eyes staring up at her so trustingly. She got a sweet lick on her chin for her forbearance and smiled.
“Bad dog?” Max practically growled between clenched teeth. “Even Mother Theresa would’ve had more to say than that.”
With wide eyes, she turned to face the person most likely to rat her out for breaking the building rules. “I’ll clean it up,” she promised, glancing at the yellow puddle quickly absorbing into the pale blue carpeting. “And I’ll pay to have it professionally cleaned, too.”
If she could afford it. All her odd jobs added up to a barely livable income in New York. Cleaning that carpet might mean eating ramen noodles for the next six months.
However, a diet of ramen was better than getting her best friend kicked out of her apartment.
Max jerked his gaze—which she could only describe as filled with utter abhorrence—from the carpet to her.
Tentatively, she attempted a smile. At least he looked a tad bit more human now. Thanks to all the shenanigans, she’d got her wish—his dark hair was now disheveled and his tie had loosened up, hanging crookedly to the side. Again, that hum of awareness slid through her. She could picture this casual, messed up version of him in bed after a long, hot night. Minus the tie, of course.
Or maybe with just the tie.
She mentally shut down the direction of her thoughts. When he continued to stare at her as though in shock, she cleared her throat. “Do you have a carpet cleaner I could use?”
That seemed to snap him out of it. “I’ll clean it.”
As he went to turn away, she stepped closer, laying a hand on his arm to stop him. “I should be the one to do it. My dog. My mess. My responsibility.”
Jeez, how tall was he anyway? Six-foot-three or thereabouts? She was average height at five-foot-six, but he dwarfed her. In addition, he was obviously athletic, if the broad shoulders, slender hips, and muscles clenched tightly under hand were any indication.
Mmmm…lots of hard muscles.
Quit it. No more taking physical inventory of the guy. She forced her attention away from his body and back to the man gazing at her, clearly unimpressed.
He glanced down at her hand. “No offense, but I have standards.”
Gina wasn’t sure if he was talking about her as a person, or her cleaning skills, but either way… “Listen, buster—”
A soft female voice coming from outside the door interrupted her. “Are you okay in there, Maxwell?”
“Mrs. Jewett,” Gina whispered as panicked dismay lanced through her. The slightly batty older lady who lived in the apartment between Sabrina’s and Max’s was outside his door. Not good.
Before he could answer, another voice joined Mrs. Jewett’s. “What’s going on in there?”
Gina closed her eyes, a small groan escaping her lips. The gentleman at the end of the hall, whom she had yet to meet—Sabrina’d told her his name, but she forgot—was out there, too?
“I’m fine—” Max started to answer.
A sharp rap at the door interrupted him again. “Mr. Carter? We called the Super. He’s on his way up.”
She snapped her eyes open. The Super? Crap. That was fast.
Sabrina was going to kill her if Gina lost the apartment, and she’d only been here for two days. Hiding a tiny dog was supposed to be cake. This was not cake. This was…what was the opposite of cake? Garbage. That’s what this was—a stinking pile of garbage, and entirely her fault. Her impulsive nature, even though she always had good intentions, had landed her in a heap of trouble.
Gina stared at Max with wide, desperate eyes. After a speculative look that made the hairs on her arm stand on end, Max turned away. “I’ll be right there,” he called, completely calm.
How could he be calm at a time like this? She watched in horror, her stomach rolling in protest, but Max didn’t even glance at her as he went into the kitchen, only to grab a towel and return to drop it over the now-drying pee. Then, still ignoring her, he walked toward the door.
Run, dummy!
Apparently, when faced with fight or flight, her instinct was flight. At least in this instance. The mugger who tried to snatch her bag last year got a different response and a black eye. However, run and hide were definitely her best options now.
Little dog still clutched under one arm, she spent a frantic few seconds figuring out where to go. Spying an open door down a narrow hall, she hustled inside and closed the door behind her as softly as she could.
Max’s room. Huh.
No surprise that the space was decorated in a similarly modern way to the rest of the rooms—a king-sized bed with an interesting metal-looking headboard and white sheets tucked with military precision under the mattress, which rested on an open, raised platform. A tall matching mahogany dresser with gleaming metal drawer pulls stood on the opposite wall, and matching bedside tables sat on either side of the bed. A single black-and-white print of New York city hung over the bed. That was it. How very…sparse.
“Needs more color,” she murmured. A throw, or a plant, or something.
His room was also as spotless as the rest of the place, as though dust didn’t dare to enter here. The room smelled fantastic, though—an earthy scent tempered by a subtle overtone of orange peel. Scrumptious. That mall job selling scented candles last year had given her a distinct appreciation for scents. She idly wondered if Max’s sheets smelled this good, too? But then she pictured getting caught sniffing his pillows, past experience rearing its ugly head, and thought better of finding out. Besides, she had more important things to worry about.
Swinging around, she pressed her ear to the door and listened.
The low murmur of muffled voices reached her. Max seemed to be doing most of the talking. Even on short acquaintance, she’d know those low tones anywhere. The guy had a voice like dark chocolate, and she’d always been a sucker for a baritone. So sexy…but not if he was about to tell on her. Was he giving her up? Fear tightened her stomach. Any second the door would fly open as he revealed her hiding there, caught in the act of harboring a fugitive animal in a No Pets Zone.
She glanced over her shoulder, desperate for options. Maybe she should hide in the closet? Or hide the dog in the closet!
She scooted over to the door and opened it, noting Max’s closet appeared as dirt-free and sparse as the rest of his house. The organized space boasted a row of identical suits in a few different colors, matching ties, monochromatic dress shirts, and five pairs of identical dress shoes, with an empty slot presumably for the pair he wore. She’d bet a month’s paycheck his hangers were spaced exactly two inches apart. He probably had a ruler lying around somewhere to make sure.
Gina went to close her stowaway inside but paused. No. He might pee on Max’s clothes. She was in enough trouble as it stood, so there went that plan. With a sigh, she returned to the bedroom door, dog still in hand and thankfully remaining still and quiet. Again, she pressed an ear to the door and listened.
Nothing.
But then…footsteps. Headed her way. She hopped away from the door and looked frantically around the room. Nope, still nowhere to hide.
Oh, God. I am so busted.
She was going to have to find Sabrina another place…assuming her friend was still talking to her after she found out about this fiasco. Maybe Gina would have to give back her half of the BFF necklace they bought in sixth grade? She’d probably have to come up with a hefty deposit to secure Sabrina a new apartment, too, plus pay all the moving expenses. Meanwhile, Gina would have to move in with her mom until she finished paying for everything. That meant commuting to her jobs. Not to mention living with her mom and the latest in a long line of stepdads.
Yep. I’m so totally screwed.
Her heart decided it wanted out of this hot mess and went for the escape hatch up her throat, but lodged there as the door opened.
Max stood there. Just Max.
They stared at each other for a long moment before she leaned to the side to peer around him. No Super lurking in the halls. No nosy neighbors. No animal control person threatening to take away the dog. They were alone.
“I took care of it,” he said.
Gina did her best to swallow her heart back into its rightful place in her chest as she stared at him. “What does that mean?”
His mouth tilted at one corner. “I didn’t dump their bodies in the river, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Ha. Ha. Now the man was a comedian. She waited for a real answer.
Max shrugged. “I told them I tripped and fell, then I sent them on their way.”
The guy had been in the middle of yelling at her, or his silently fuming version of it. Why on earth would he cover for her?
For the second time that night, she got the distinct impression he was trying not to smile, despite how his expression didn’t change at all, other than a sardonically lifted eyebrow. Her expression must’ve reflected the combination of incredulity, relief, and suspicion that was going on inside her.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” he added.
Gina squeezed the dog close to her chest, stroking its soft fur for comfort. “Thank you,” she acknowledged belatedly.
“Your secret is safe with me…for now.”
Damn. She should’ve known her head was still on the chopping block. “What do you mean, for now?”
“I took care of it, but if you want me to keep taking care of it, I need something from you.”
Yup. Here came the axe. Gina edged away, nerves and disappointment both dogging her steps. Hottie McBlackmailer turned out to be a perv. She lifted her chin. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
Max crossed his arms, and she swallowed at the sight of defined muscles under the fine material of his shirt. “I don’t want sex.”
She stopped scooting back and eyed him, trying to determine how serious he was. “No?”
Max slammed her with a charming smile, one that softened the harsher lines of his face and had her stomach fluttering in response. However, like in the hall earlier, his blue-eyed gaze remained distant, and she didn’t quite trust that I-have-my-own-agenda light in his eyes.
“No,” he said. “I want you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”