Look At Me

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I need to talk to you. Please. Call me.

He hit Delete again, and then he thought about blocking her. She wasn’t taking no for an answer, and it irked him.

There’s nothing to talk about. We’re done.

She quickly wrote back, But I love you.

Please.

She didn’t know what love was. She knew all about betrayal and deception and greed, but nothing about love. Jackson saw the flashing red light on his phone, indicating the voice mail left by Laurie, and quickly hit Delete without bothering to listen to it. He didn’t have time for such nonsense. She was obsessed with his money, nothing more.

He finished the first offer letter to Kent for the 1209 property and sent it off, pretty certain that it would be flat-out rejected. It was below market value of the building, but Jackson had to start somewhere. He figured they’d eventually meet in the middle if Kent really was serious about selling to him and this wasn’t just some elaborate game. It could be. Kent no doubt would love the idea of just toying with Jackson, making him believe he had a chance at a property that Kent had no intention of selling. Kent didn’t care so much about wasting their time as he did about annoying Jackson. Honestly, the man should get a hobby. Or a wife to keep him busy. Something.

Still, he liked the idea of being Chloe’s landlord. He knew he could take better care of her and her building than Kent ever would. He liked the thought of dropping in, asking her if anything in her apartment needed fixing. There were certain things he’d like to fix right now, like the fact that he wanted to see her naked. In his bed.

This made him wonder if she’d responded to his question yet. He glanced at his calendar, which was thin for the rest of the afternoon. Maybe he’d just pop home and see.

He walked out of his office and saw Hailey typing at her desk. Then he remembered Chloe’s smashed phone and the devastated look on her face when he’d returned her mangled device.

“Oh, Hailey, do we have any extra smartphones? I need a backup,” he said.

Hailey didn’t miss a beat as she turned to fetch a key from her drawer to unlock a cabinet near her knees. She pulled out a box and handed it to him.

“And a manila envelope, please?”

She handed it to him, no questions asked.

“Thanks, Hailey. I’ll be back in an hour or so. Let me know if anything urgent comes in.”

“Will do, sir,” she said, and nodded at him, and then turned her attention back to her computer.

Jackson tucked the new phone into the envelope, and thought Chloe would be surprised when he showed up with a replacement for her smashed one. He remembered how absolutely brokenhearted she looked when she saw her phone fall from her window. She wouldn’t have been sitting there if they hadn’t been moving in, and so he figured the least he could do was replace it.

He liked the idea of getting her a gift, and whistled to himself as he took the elevator down to the parking garage. A quick drive home in his Maserati meant that he was pulling into the parking space near his condo a few minutes later. He glanced up, clearly seeing her message to him. It was spelled out in Post-it notes on her window.

Maybe.

He grinned. Maybe she wanted to do more than watch? Well, he’d have to get to work on convincing her he was worth the trouble. He carried the envelope holding the brand-new phone he’d taken from his office as a replacement for her cracked one. He scribbled a quick note there on the porch and slipped the piece of paper into the manila envelope. He took the package and laid it on top of her mailboxes and then rang her buzzer.

Chloe heard the buzzer, but finished the posts she was doing for her client on Instagram. She figured it was just another package delivery, though she couldn’t remember what she’d ordered exactly. She finished up the post and then headed downstairs, swinging open her building’s front door. A manila envelope sat on her mailboxes, addressed to her. Except it had no postage. Or mailing label. Just her name in thick black marker: Chloe Park. There was a small note inside. It read:

Chloe,

“Maybe” sounds like you need more convincing that it’s more fun to do than to watch. Call me if you need the reasons why.

Jackson.

Bewildered, she ripped open the package and found a brand-new smartphone. What the...? Her new, rich, tattoo-clad neighbor had just handed her an eight-hundred-dollar phone. She glanced at the mobile, shocked. Who did that? Someone who owns a Maserati and a whole building.

She fetched her cracked phone from her kitchen table, and then compared it to the sleek new phone. She couldn’t believe this. Was he...for real? He didn’t even know her. She couldn’t accept a gift like this. Besides, what would his leggy, model girlfriend think? The one who showed up at his house not wearing a bra or underwear beneath that microjumper?

She glanced up at his building across the alleyway, but she couldn’t see into his window from this angle, though she saw the blinds were open and it seemed like there might be a light on, but the daylight made it hard to tell. Should she march over there and give this back to him?

Or would he get the wrong idea and think she was there to do more than watch? But maybe that was exactly what she wanted to do.

She studied the phone. She couldn’t keep it. It was too big a gift from someone she didn’t even know.

You know what he looks like naked and you know how he can satisfy a woman. And not only is he up for a booty call, but he gave you the phone to do it.

Still, she told herself, tamping down her naughty thoughts. What if she took the phone and then he expected her to...do things in return?

Then again, that didn’t sound bad. Not bad at all.

No. She had to give the phone back. She couldn’t keep such an expensive gift. Right? It was crazy, wasn’t it? Just as she debated what to do next, the new phone in her hand came to life with a standard ringtone.

What the...?

She glanced down at the phone and realized the thing was on. On and clearly activated, because a call was coming in from Jackson Drake.

Uh...should she answer? Should she ignore it? Why did the man give her a phone with his number programmed into it? No better time than now to tell him she couldn’t accept such a gift.

“Hello?” she said as she pressed the phone to her ear.

“Hey, neighbor.” Jackson’s voice was like melted chocolate. Smooth, sexy, sweet.

“Oh...uh. Hi.” When she looked at her windows, she saw the back of her own blinds. She’d drawn them after the show the night before, not trusting herself not to glance out once more. Her window was still open, though, since she didn’t want to call the AC repair person just yet—not until a few more freelance checks came in. The light in her studio apartment was dim, so she flicked on the kitchen light and went to retrieve some water from the tap.

“I see you got my gift.” His voice, warm, deep, made her own insides go gooey.

“Uh, right...about that... I mean, thank you so much. It’s so generous of you, but...I don’t think I can accept it.”

“You don’t like it?” Now Jackson sounded concerned. She almost felt he might run out and buy her a different one if she’d asked.

“No. No! I love it. I mean it’s an amazing phone.” And it was. The sound quality was so good, and the thing was so light, the screen so big, she knew from the commercials she’d seen that this was the brand-new, just out, must-have model.

“If you love it, then keep it.”

“It’s so expensive, and...I mean...”

“Chloe.” He said her name as if he owned it. The determination in his voice sparked something inside her. Want? Or maybe more primal. Need. His voice rumbled through her chest and settled in her belly. “I have many phones for the Realtors at my office, and so, seriously, I insist. Take one. Otherwise, it’ll just sit in a drawer and not get used.”