I park my little car in my designated parking lot and slump against the seat. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been more grateful to get home and call an official end to the day.

I can’t wait to take myself and the Chinese food I food I picked up on the way home upstairs, and crash on my comfy couch, where I plan on binge watching Law and Order reruns.

The delightful heat and tingling created by the oil I’d put on at the restaurant faded while I was driving. Since it’s been the most stimulating thing my body has ever encountered, I’m going to have to order an entire bottle of the stuff from Donna at The Sex Project.

I feel the tension draining from my body as I let myself out of the car and walk toward the lobby door.

“Hey, Ms. Burkley.” Chris, the Dovetail building’s nighttime doorman, greets me almost as soon as I step into the lobby.

“Hi, Chris,” I respond. I hook the plastic bag that contains the Chinese takeout around my wrist and look at the thick book that’s open before him. “What are you studying tonight?” The nice thing about working as a night doorman is that it gives Chris plenty of time to study. If all goes according to his plan, by this time next year, he’ll be a fully-fledged EMT.

He looks down at the text book and grimaces. “It’s for my pharmacology and medication admin class. It’s hard stuff.”

“You’ll get through it,” I assure him.

“Maybe,” he says glumly. Apparently, I’m not the only one having a bad night.

“Good luck,” I say before walking to the elevator bank and pressing the call button. While I wait, I dig my cell phone out of my purse. I’ve gotten five different texts. One of them is from Mister No O. My stomach tightens. I’ve been thinking about him all day. Even when I was dining with Dan, I had to resist the temptation to look at my phone to see if he was trying to get ahold of me.

That’s the one I open.

Oh boy! He’s going to love this particular story.

The elevator door slides open and I step in, not bothering to look up from my phone until the heavy stainless-steel doors whisper closed behind me, and a strange prickling sensation, the one that serves as an early warning system that a guy is checking me out, sweeps over me.

Startled, I glance up and nearly drop my phone. I nearly give myself whiplash as I snap my head around in a desperate attempt to look anywhere but at my fellow passenger.

Garret Holden.

I haven’t seen him since I crashed into him in the lobby a few days ago.

One glimpse and my brain short circuits.

My knees wobble and my skin heats up and shrinks a size or two. Images of wrapping my legs around his narrow waist while demanding he fuck me long and hard flash before my eyes.

I’ve never, ever been trapped in a small confined space with him before. I’m probably shooting off all sorts of pheromones, like some alley cat that’s in heat. Whether it’s the close proximity to Garret or the remnants of the damned lubricating oil, my girly bits start pulsating and begging for attention.

Please, I silently beg whatever deity might be listening, let someone else get into the elevator soon. In just the second or two I’ve been stuck in the small, confined space with him, my temperature has shot up. Much longer and I’d spontaneously combust or do something even more humiliating. My body reacts more strongly to his mere presence than it’s ever responded to the men I’ve actually slept with.

My stomach tightens as I slide a sly glance in his direction. He is watching me, but his expression is placid rather than interested. Clearly my womanly Spidey senses aren’t as sharp as I thought. Maybe my stupid sex coach has me so revved up that the presence of any red-blooded man is enough to turn me on.

That could make generally mundane things, like walking down the street, interesting.

Garret raises a brow and nods his head toward the control panel.

I take a deep steadying breath. “Um … the fifteenth floor.”

Garret nods and punches the large round number.

I chew on my lower lip and pretend not to notice how his shirt strains over the breadth of his shoulders or how the cotton clings to his well-defined pecs. While my girlfriends go on and on about tight asses and pretty eyes, I’ve always been a sucker for a well-defined torso.

I should say something, make some sort of small talk, but since Garrett seems to be in an even more solid silent mode than normal, I decide I’d just be wasting my breath. I tip my head back and stare at the sign hanging above the closed doors, watching the numbers fly by.

My stomach drops as the elevator jerks to a stop at the fifth floor. The doors slide open with a soft hum. A middle-aged guy with tired eyes nods at me as he and a small brunette who looks about seven years old step into the elevator. The little girl grips one end of a hot pink leash. The other end is connected to a half-grown chocolate lap puppy.

The dog glances my way before turning to Garret and burying his curious nose into his crotch.

I bite my lip, suppressing my instinctive smile as Garret hunches forward. He reaches down with one hand, gently pushing the puppy’s head away from his person as the little girl digs in her heels and tugs on the leash, desperately trying to stop the dog, who probably outweighs her, back to her side.

The older man heaves a huge sigh and reaches for the dog’s collar. “Claire, I told you, you can only lead Kirby on his walk outside if you can control of him.”

The girl’s lower lip pokes out and her expression is so sad, my heart bleeds for her. “But Daddy,” she starts, her voice developing a distinctly wailing quality.

I brace myself. I like kids well enough, I guess, but I find their crying distressing, especially when I’m stuck in a small space, and this has all the earmarks of a full-blown temper tantrum.

Garret’s teeth flash white as he gifts the little girl and her father a rare smile. Liquid heat floods my belly before running lower.  I place a hand on the wall beside me, steadying myself. Why can’t I react this way to any of the guys I date, guys that should suit me down to a T?

“It’s okay,” he says to the little girl, the sound of his voice sending a chill through me that cancels out the heat his smile triggered. “Puppies tend to have a mind of their own, don’t they?”

Claire grins back at him and babbles some answer. Her father’s voice joins in, but I can’t make out the words over the blood pounding in my ears. I stare at Garret. The sound of his voice echoes in my brain. The same voice that has kept me up for the past several nights. The same voice that has whispered one carnal sin after another in my ear until I can’t think straight.

I knew it sounded familiar, but I never imagined that it belonged to someone in my apartment building, much less to the same person I was attracted to since I first saw him, a guy that couldn’t be less suited to me.

The elevator bumps to a stop again, and the doors slide open. The two adult men turn and stare at me, waiting for me to get out.

Heart pounding, I do, but just as the doors start closing behind me, I spin and slap a hand over them, stopping them in their tracks.

My eyes meet Garret’s.

“You,” I hear myself say even though I don’t have any plan, any idea, about what I’m going to do. I point to the hallway and glare at him. “Here. Now.”