I tasted a sliver of the roasted chicken and silently commended myself for a job well done. It would still need a good twenty minutes to get a nice crust. Aidan told me he'd be home around six, give or take fifteen minutes depending on traffic. I put the water on for potatoes and then returned to the script I'd left on the couch.

I'd taken a break from the overly dramatic movie script and opened up the script for the Murder Mystery weekend. I only hoped that I wouldn't mix the two up and start spouting the part of Kelly, the abused, murdering, two timing woman in the movie script. The writer and director were big names, but I wasn't all that impressed with the script. I found it melodramatic and not terribly plausible. That said, I'd still kill someone to get the part. Russell was trying to remain positive, but I found it hard to believe that they'd hire a no name actress to fill the part. From what Russell had heard through the very long movie grapevine, the director had all but begged Oscar winner Katrina Blake to take the part but she’d turned it down.

As I headed back to the kitchen, I heard the elevator ding. My stomach turned instantly to a mass of butterflies and my hands were just a little unsteady at the thought of Aidan walking in. What the hell was that about?

I leaned down to catch my reflection in the glass on the microwave. I brushed a piece of onion peel off my shoulder, deciding it wasn't the sexiest thing to wear. Whoa, and now I was thinking about looking sexy. Well, Aidan was a rather extraordinary guy.

I expected a noise in the hallway to be followed by keys in the door. Instead, I heard a familiar voice yell my name. The earlier butterflies turned to stone and dropped dead in my stomach. I opened the door and looked out into the hallway.

The two strips of wood maintenance had nailed across my open doorway were still in place, but I could hear Brock inside my apartment, frantically calling my name. His face suddenly appeared over the top piece of wood.

"Jane? What the fuck happened? You scared the shit out of me." He ducked under the wood and looked past me into Aidan's apartment. "Who lives here?"

"I do." The deep voice caused Brock to spin around fast.

Brock was not a small guy but Aidan stood a good three inches over him. And his shoulders and arms made Brock look positively dainty.

Brock turned back to me. "Would you like to explain this," he sneered.

I tapped my chin. "Let me think about it. Nope. I don't have to explain anything to you."

"We need to talk, baby." Obviously forgetting about the giant looming in the hall behind him, Brock grabbed my hand. As he attempted to drag me along with him, he found himself blocked by my new friend, the man wall.

"Sorry, buddy, this is between me and the lady. It's none of your business." I had to give Brock credit. Aidan looked menacing with his crossed arms and glower. But then Brock never was very smart.

"First of all, you and I are not buddies. And secondly, let go of the lady's hand."

Brock turned back to me. "Are you coming with me or not?"

"Not." I pulled my hand from his grasp. "We are done. How often do I have to tell you that? Please leave me alone and don't come back."

Brock turned and laughed dryly at Aidan. "You oversized motherfuckers think you're so tough, but I'll bet you're all bark. You probably move like a slow motion sloth."

Aidan shrugged. "Could be. I'm willing to test out your theory anytime you like."

For a second, it seemed Brock might just take him up on it.

"Never mind. She's not worth it. She's not even a great fuck."

I hadn't even seen Aidan move, but in the next second, he had Brock pushed up face first against the wall, his arm wrenched behind his back. Brock groaned in pain.

"How's that theory about the sloth holding up?" Aidan lowered his voice. "Next time I see you around here, I will do to you what I did to that splintered door across the way." He released him.

Brock rubbed his shoulder as he stumbled toward the elevator.

It took a moment before Aidan could look at me and then he fell back into apology mode. "I'm sorry, Jane. I tend to act before I think. It's sort of a survival technique I learned as a kid."

I walked over to him and took his hand in mine. It had more of an effect on him than I expected. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that I couldn't quite read, but his fingers closed around my hand.

"That's twice you stepped in to help me. Thank you. And, I might add, you look a bit like a superhero when you're taking out bad guys, real or invisible." My last comment lifted the worry from his face.

We walked into his apartment. "Maybe I need some kind of cape." He stopped and turned to me. His serious expression had returned. "I don't want to make things harder for you, Jane. Although, considering what I did to your apartment that ship has pretty much already sailed. But do I need to worry about that guy hurting you?"

The question nearly melted my heart. I couldn't remember the last time any man worried for my safety. Actually, yes I could. My dad. He was the only other man and he didn't count because that was part of his dad job. But Aidan was just a neighbor, a neighbor I found myself growing more fond of each day.

"Brock is just a blowhard. For the most part, he's harmless. He'd never hurt me, physically." I walked into the kitchen to check on the potatoes. It felt so natural making dinner and chatting with Aidan as if we'd known each other for a long time. He was remarkably easy to talk to for a man, especially one who owned a multimillion dollar company and who, according to the gossip, was a notorious playboy. "If Brock had ever shown abusive tendencies, I would have left him long ago. We were together for a few years, but things were growing stale fast. At least from my point of view. Apparently not so much from his."

"Can't fault him for that. I don't think I'd give up on someone like you either."

I turned to the pot of potatoes to hide my smile.

Aidan walked into the miniature kitchen and instantly took up most of the free space. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. As he spun back around in the tight space, we ended up face to face and toe to giant toe. The potatoes and roasted chicken had lent their own heat to the small kitchen, but it was nothing compared to the heat swirling between us. The butterflies had returned and they were extra active.

I peered up at him and smiled. "Oh wow, looking up at you from this close proximity makes me almost dizzy. Like staring up the side of a skyscraper." I knew there was a good chance it wasn't his height that was making my head spin.

He reached up and brushed a strand of hair off my forehead. "I'm starting to think busting through your door wasn't such a bad thing after all."

"Me too." I stepped out of the way to let him pass. "I hope you like roasted chicken." I realized that my ability to flirt had been dampened by my time with Brock. That should have been my first indication that we weren't good together because it sure seemed to me that in a good relationship there was always room for sexy flirting. But I was severely out of practice, which was probably not good for an actress. And I was feeling especially out of practice around Aidan, who oozed sexual confidence.

"When it comes to me and food, you really can't go wrong. And my mouth is watering from the aroma." He sat up on the counter stool, and I set to work mashing the potatoes.

"This place should have a doorman or some kind of intercom so uninvited guests can't just come through the elevators."

I poured milk into the potatoes. "This is not exactly a doorman or intercom type of place. That's why the rent is so affordable." I looked over at him. "Which begs me to ask—why are you living here? Surely you could afford a better place."

Aidan seemed hesitant about answering my question. Suddenly it occurred to me that he might have been going through a nasty divorce or maybe he was terrible with money. I hadn't seen anything about a wife in my nosy search of his name but then I hadn't looked much past the stories about rowdy parties and multitudes of women.

"That was way too busy body of me. Forget I asked that. You can live where you like."

"No, it wasn't the question. It was the answer. I haven't been wealthy long, and sometimes it feels wrong to talk about good fortune when—"

"When you're talking to someone who Lady Luck has not smiled upon?"

He looked especially handsome when he was contrite, and it was always such a funny contrast to his imposing physical presence.

"Aidan, don't be ashamed. You've made it. You obviously worked hard and you achieved success. I hope to do the same someday. Lady Luck just hasn't found me yet. Neither has any director or producer of note. But I'm not giving up."

"And you shouldn't. You would be stunning on the big screen. Almost as sexy as you are standing in my tiny kitchen mashing up a bowl of potatoes."

I laughed as I pushed the masher into the bowl. "I do make this look erotic, don't I?"

"More than you know." The change of tone caused me to look up from my task. Aidan's brown eyes held mine for a long moment and then I dragged my gaze away.

I pulled the chicken out of the oven and set about carving it into pieces. Aidan watched with keen interest, but I wasn't convinced that it was the chicken that held his attention.

"I can go to my apartment after dinner to practice my script. I don't want to get in the way of your evening."

"I've got nothing planned. I could help you practice if you need it. I could read the part of the person you're talking to. Just don't expect any kind of quality acting."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Great. It's always easier if I have someone to bounce the lines off of. We can start after dinner."