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She opened her mouth to ask that his guest move her car, but the door closed in her face. Jane scowled, hoping the man—to paraphrase Jane Austen—improved upon closer acquaintance. The building housed only forty condos. A few jerks—or one large one—would be enough to cause problems for everyone. And since she and Perry shared a wall and a divided balcony, she would bear the brunt of it.
Heaving a sigh, she unlocked the door to her own condo. Inside, she dropped her load on her desk, then carried the bag of Chinese food to the living room, turning on lights along the way.
The sight of her condo never failed to calm her—she’d purposely decorated in a minimalist style in soothing shades of taupe and sky blue to make the space her own personal haven. Her walls were white, her furniture streamlined. No clutter to distract her, no mess to create more work when she should be winding down.
Jane sighed and felt the stress of the day drain away. She changed into comfy sweats and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. A glance at the clock had her rushing to the kitchen for a bottle of water and a TV tray. Time for her show. Guilty pleasure filled her chest—would Victoria and the cop Nate get together? Or would Nate arrest Victoria for murdering her neighbor?
Settling onto her overstuffed couch, Jane slipped off her shoes and dug her toes into the plush area rug, then clicked on the TV and reached for the bag of takeout. Suddenly the blare of pulsing music invaded her space.
Jane frowned in the direction of the shared wall. The previous owner had been quiet—and had traveled often. Hopefully her new neighbor would soon realize that the walls of multi-family-unit buildings could be thin.
Tamping down irritation, she increased the volume of the TV to counter the sound of the music coming through the wall. From the bag she removed a container of crab wontons and another of lo mein.
She unwrapped the chopsticks and had a wonton halfway to her mouth when the sound of a woman’s voice came through the wall.
“Ahh…ahh, yeah, baby, that’s it…yeah.”
Jane stopped and turned her head toward the wall. It wasn’t…they weren’t…
Incredulous, she lowered the volume on the television, only to be treated to a new string of sexpletives.
“Oh, oh, oh…yes! Yes! Do it! Harder! Faster! I-eeeee! Omigod, omigod, omigod, that feels so good! Talk dirty to me—yeah, that’s it…you nasty, nasty boy.”
Jane’s eyes widened. Nasty boy?
A rhythmic banging sounded on the wall and she thought at first that one of them was hitting the wall with a wayward limb…then she realized with the accompanying squeaking noises that it was the man’s headboard that was banging against their shared wall.
“Oh, good grief,” she muttered, feeling a little dirty, like a voyeur, yet curiously unable to stop listening. The woman’s caterwauling escalated in time with the banging noise and was joined by a man’s low voice.
“Now!” she screamed. “I’m coming! Now! Now! NOWWWW!”
From the synchronized clamor, it appeared that they arrived together. Jane sat unmoving, unable to believe what had just transpired, but distantly aware of a heaviness in her breasts and a tingle of desire in her midsection.
Embarrassment swelled in her chest and she grappled with the remote to increase the volume over the music still pounding through the wall. She tried to concentrate on the storyline of the show, but her mind kept returning to the fact that she’d just heard her new neighbor have sex.
As far as neighbors went, that fell under the category of TMI: Too Much Information. Especially since she could visualize his long, muscular body naked and sweaty, tangled in the sheets…And she wondered what kind of nasty things he’d said to the woman that had made her scream as if she’d hung between life and death.
Working her mouth back and forth, Jane studied a crab wonton, then popped it into her mouth. It was the most satisfying thing she would get tonight.
But as her attention continued to wander and she realized that she’d missed huge chunks of the program, her irritation ballooned again. Nasty Boy had foisted his sex life on her and completely ruined her evening. And while she stewed about the man’s crudeness—and rudeness—the rhythmic thumping started up again along with the woman’s commentary.
“Oh, baby, that’s it…that’s it…oh, yeah. Say something nasty…oh, yeah.”
Jane stuck her tongue into her cheek. Not again. She hadn’t even had time to finish her dinner! Worse, she had no idea what was happening on her show.
She stabbed at the lo mein as the movement on the other side of the wall grew more frenetic. Nasty Boy apparently had stamina…and finesse. He knew just where to put it, oh baby, he knew just how to do it, oh yeah.
It was like bad song lyrics.
What was he saying to her? She leaned closer to the wall, but couldn’t make out the low murmurings. With a jolt, Jane realized that she was rocking in time with the couples’ rhythm and she was feeling…warm.
And…moist.
How long had it been since she’d had sex? There hadn’t been anyone since James, and the last few times with him had been a letdown.
Who was she kidding? Every time with James had been a letdown. Every time with every guy—not that there’d been that many—had been a letdown. None of her encounters with men had lived up to the fantasies she’d spun in her head, not one of them had left her feeling like this…with desire coiled tightly in her stomach, aching for release.
Meanwhile, next door, the woman let go with the intensity and the volume of a hurricane, screeching and banging in a clatter that grated on Jane’s nerves like a fire alarm sounding. Unreasonable anger rose in her chest and she pushed to her feet. She would not be subjected to this kind of…exhibitionism in her own home!
Striding out into the hallway, she knocked loudly on Perry’s door, and when he didn’t answer, she knocked again, her ire rising even higher. She had lifted her arm to bang on his door again when it suddenly swung open, revealing her neighbor in his long glory, his hair tousled and wearing the jeans that now were only half-zipped. And she had the feeling that this time, he definitely wasn’t wearing underwear.
He gave her a lopsided smile. “Can I help you, uh…what was your name again?”
“Jane,” she snapped.
“Right. What can I do for you?”
“You can take it down a notch.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you and I share a wall and I can hear your…music.”
“Okay, I’ll turn down the volume on the stereo.” He started to close the door, but she held up her hand. Knowing what he’d done to generate the sheen of perspiration on his chest threatened to tie her tongue in knots, but she reminded herself that she was the victim here. “I can also hear your, um…activities.”
He blinked. “Activities?”
She crossed her arms and gave him a pointed look. “Both times.”
His dark eyebrows shot up, then a devilish smile curved his mouth. “And on a scale of one to ten?”
She gasped, outraged. “I didn’t come over to score you, Mr.—”
“Brewer,” he supplied.
Her mouth tightened. “Mr. Brewer, I came over to ask you as a neighbor to please keep the noise down.”
“I’ll try,” he said cheerfully, “but I can’t make any promises.” Then he stepped back and closed the door.
Jane stood there for a few seconds, feeling like a fool. She slunk back to her condo, furious to see that her show had ended, then paced the living room with pent-up energy. To escape, she poured herself a glass of wine and went out to sit on her tiny balcony that faced west, overlooking the lights of Midtown.
Adrenaline coursed through her body—anger, embarrassment, frustration. She felt as if she were coming out of her skin, and couldn’t rightly blame all of it on her neighbor’s unwitting intrusion. Maybe she was coming down with something…maybe she was experiencing some sort of chemical imbalance. That would explain this profound restlessness that, in truth, had preceded her breakup with James, but had escalated afterward. She had the strangest sensation that her life was careening downhill, picking up speed, but headed nowhere. It wasn’t anything she could put her finger on, just a feeling of being…unfulfilled.
When she heard the slide of her neighbor’s balcony door opening, her heart sank—with him permeating her living space, her balcony was her last sanctuary. A tall concrete wall separated their balconies, but that wouldn’t keep her from hearing their call of the wild should they decide to move their gymnastics outdoors. She braced herself for more lewd noises.
Instead, the woman’s high-pitched laugh reached her ears. “I can’t believe your nerdy neighbor came over to tell you that she heard us having sex through the walls. How rude!”
Brewer’s laugh was short. “More like a prude.”
Heat rose in Jane’s face and she sank lower in her chair.
“Maybe you should find someplace else to live,” his partner suggested, then she laughed. “Because we’re going to drive her crazy. And then, she’s going to drive you crazy.”
“Why should I leave?” Brewer said. “Because I had the misfortune of moving in next to a homely little geek who’s probably never had a good lay and has nothing better to do than listen to other people get it on?”
Jane inhaled sharply against the pain in her chest. Her skin burned with needles of humiliation…is that how other people saw her? Emotion clogged her throat and tears pricked her eyes. She stood up abruptly, distantly registering the fact that she’d dropped her wine glass, but not caring as she fled inside.
PERRY HEARD the sound of glass crashing on the other side of the balcony wall. He winced, realizing that his neighbor—Jane, wasn’t it?—had been sitting on the other side and had very likely heard what he’d said. Damn.
“What was that?” Kayla asked.
“Nothing,” he said, feeling like a heel as he lifted his beer to drain it. “Maybe you should go—I have to be in court in the morning and I still have some files to go through.”
Kayla pouted. “Okay. When will I see you again?”
“Soon,” he promised, escorting her back inside and toward the door. He lowered a perfunctory kiss on her mouth, and shepherded her out into the hall, sending her off with a wave.
Then he paused and looked at his neighbor’s door, wondering if he should apologize, how he could apologize for calling her a…He squinted to remember.
A homely little geek who’s probably never had a good lay.
He cringed, thinking that no matter how mousy the woman was, she didn’t deserve that kind of put-down. His mother had raised him better than that.
Perry pulled on his chin and vowed to find a way to make it up to Jane what’s-her-name…somehow.
3
THE NEXT MORNING, Jane stepped out into the hallway and set down a bag of garbage so she could lock her condo door. She blinked rapidly to focus on the lock through the sunglasses—ridiculous, but necessary to hide her gritty, puffy eyes. Her new neighbor and his girlfriend would get a good belly laugh if they knew that their offhand remarks about her sad little life had caused her a sleepless night of crying into her pillow. She was quite sure she was so insignificant to them that they wouldn’t even recall what they’d said.
While she struggled to slide the key into the keyhole, her new neighbor’s door opened, to her dismay. She didn’t look up, just stabbed at the keyhole as a flush raced up her neck and face.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Morning,” she murmured, keeping her back to him.
“Having problems?”
“No.” She set her jaw and tried to steady her hand, but she continued to fumble.
Suddenly a large hand closed over hers gently. “Let me.”
She stiffened, but relinquished the key and stepped back from his big body just to escape his touch. She turned, expecting to see his girlfriend loitering nearby, but he was alone, and dressed in a suit as best as she could tell through her dark lenses. His briefcase sat on the floor next to her garbage bag.
The deadbolt clicked. Then he turned and handed her the keys, flashing a smile.
“Thanks,” she muttered.
“Hey, no wonder you couldn’t see,” he said with a laugh. “What’s up with the shades?”
And before she realized what he was doing, he had lifted them from her face. She blinked at the sudden light and grabbed to retrieve the glasses, mortified for him to see her swollen, red-rimmed eyes. If he thought she was homely yesterday, this morning she was downright ugly.
She saw him blanch before she jammed the dark glasses back on her face. “Allergies,” she murmured, then reached for her garbage.
“I got that,” he said, snatching up the bag. “Actually, you can show me where I need to put my trash.”
She didn’t say anything, just nodded, and walked down the hall to the garbage chute. “There,” she said, pointing. “See you later.”
She veered off toward the stairs, thinking he’d take the elevator. Instead, after dropping the garbage, he followed her down the stairs.
“Hey, I’m sorry again about the noise last night,” he said. “I didn’t realize the walls were so thin.”
She didn’t respond—she knew Perry Brewer’s type. He’d throw a few nice words her way, then ask her to be home to sign for his furniture delivery. Jane picked up the pace and managed to reach the parking garage first.
“I didn’t get your last name,” he said a few paces behind her.
She rolled her eyes—as if he remembered her first name.
He caught up to her and gave her a little smile.
“Come on, we’re neighbors—I should know your last name.”
“It’s Kurtz. Goodbye.” She strode past her empty parking spot toward the guest parking area, relieved to be away from him, although she could feel his gaze boring into her back, surveying her chinos, yellow polo shirt, black Skechers sneakers and ponytail. Was he fascinated in her as a geeky specimen?
When she reached her car, she groaned to see a sizable dent in her driver’s side door, obviously caused by the door of another car that was long gone. She removed her dark glasses and bent to run her hand over the dent—her car was old, but she tried to take good care of it. To add insult to injury, she realized suddenly that her back tire was flat, caused, no doubt, by the nail sticking out of it. A handful of nails lay scattered around the back of her car, probably dropped by some maintenance worker who also parked in the guest area.
She blinked back hot tears—she didn’t need this. She’d overslept because she was so tired and was already running late.
At the sound of a car slowing, she turned her head to see the big, black SUV, and Perry leaning toward the lowered passenger side window.
“Need a ride?”
She wiped her eyes and jammed the glasses back on her face. “No, I’ll call a repair service.”
“That could take a while. I can drop you wherever you need to be.”
She massaged her temples—she just wanted the vile man to go away.
“I feel responsible,” he called, then leaned over and opened the passenger side door. “Let me do this.”
Jane stared at the open door. Then she glanced at her watch. It would mean the difference between her getting to work on time or throwing her entire day—and maybe the show—off schedule.
“Come on,” he cajoled. Jane decided it was the least he could do since his girlfriend was the root cause of her current predicament.
She walked over and took the hand he extended to climb into the SUV. His fingers were strong and warm as they enclosed hers. She clambered into the seat with an unladylike bounce, and tugged her hand from his. She closed the door and sat as close to it as possible while she put on her seatbelt. Perry was smiling at her like some kind of gallant knight in training. Even through the dark glasses, she could see he was more handsome in his suit than he’d been half-dressed last night. And she was surprised to discover that Nasty Boy had a professional job.
“Where am I taking you?” he asked.
She tore her gaze from him to stare straight ahead and gave him the street address.
