They’re not in any of the rooms upstairs. Taking the stairs from outside Vivian’s master bedroom, I look around in the hallway outside the formal dining room. It’s only when I cross through the foyer to check the kitchen that I see why they’re not answering. The balcony door is wide open, Daisy is sitting beside it, tail wagging.
Sheba isn’t with her.
“Stay, Daisy,” I say, hurrying over to her. “Don’t you move. Bad Daisy. How did you get this door open? I know I locked it too,” I tell her, scolding her with one finger that should be all wrinkly by now if I were still in the jacuzzi. She tucks her head under one paw and makes a few soft, apologetic whimpers as I look around the terrace for Sheba. “Sheba? Here, Sheba. Be a good boy and come here.”
Please, please don’t let him be on the neighbor’s side of the terrace, I pray inwardly, but the sound of his barking is coming from exactly there.
I check Jackson’s balcony from the edge of the railing, and cringe when I see Sheba, playing beside one of the terra cotta flower pots.
“Stop, Sheba! Come here, boy,” I call to the little menace, clicking my tongue for extra emphasis.
I’m flustered and frustrated. He’s been so obedient up until now. Why won’t he come? Sheba turns his fluffy little doggy head and looks at me, but doesn’t move an inch. Correction. He bends his back legs, then his tail raises in defiance as his one back leg raises. No. Oh no. He’s not doing what I think he’s about to do.
Crap.
Oh yes he is.
Sheba proceeds to pee beside the potted plant, leaving a hot, steaming puddle right in the middle of Jackson’s terrace. It’s steaming because out here is freaking cold, and all I’m wearing is a bathrobe. I didn’t even think to put on my slippers.
“Sheba! Bad dog! Come here right now!” I shriek.
In my panicked state, I hold on to the partition and swing one leg, then the other, over the ledge to step onto Jackson’s balcony. Checking my pocket, I let out a sigh of relief when my hand grasps a bundle of facial tissues I stuffed in there the last time I used my bathrobe. Thank goodness. I need to clean up this mess and get this naughty little pooch back to Vivian’s before the grumpy guy next door shows up and goes off the deep—
“What the fuck is going on out here?”
The sound of Jackson’s voice booming out from his sliding door behind me causes me to freeze, just as my tissue-covered fingers begin to sop up Sheba’s handiwork.
Shit.
“Uh, I uh, I’m sorry, Mr. Knight,” I say tilting only my head to look at him from my bent over position. “It looks worse than it really is. Sheba got out again, and just had a little…accident.”
I manage to wipe it all up, closing the drier sides of the tissue papers around to cover the wetter center. Then I notice the droplets of water that fell from my soaking wet hair. Jeez. Maybe he won’t see.
“There,” I chime out. “All good now. If you don’t mind me coming back in a few minutes, I’ll clean and sanitize the spot with some disinfecting pine cleaner.”
He doesn’t say a word. He just stares at me, eyes narrow, with an icy glint in his stare. I can tell he’s not the least bit happy. One hand is fisted at his side, while the other has a death grip on the sliding door handle.
I’m in so much trouble.
Then Sheba outdoes himself, making things worse for me by running up to Jackson and licking his expensive shoes. Then he humps Jackson’s ankle.
I’m so dead.
“Come here right now, Sheba!” I hiss through gritted teeth.
Jackson glowers down at Sheba, but remains cold and silent. He’s probably swearing an endless string of profanity in his head, and the scowl on his face says plenty.
I approach him and pick up Sheba with my free hand. “I’m very sorry about this, Mr. Knight. It won’t happen again,” I assure him, although I have no way of knowing how I’ll make good on such a promise, short of barricading the sliding door so Daisy can’t open it for Sheba to get out again.
As I straighten up with Sheba cradled in one arm and the tissue paper with his wet little accident in the other, I notice Jackson’s eyes move from my face, down to about breast level. My body shivers from his stare. Or it may just be that I’m cold.
It’s the cold, all right.
And partial nudity.
Aww hell.
In my haste to take care of what Sheba just did, the bathrobe’s tie belt loosened from my waist and exposed almost my entire body, from neck to knee. I can’t even begin to hold back my embarrassment. Heat burns my cheeks when I remember that my hands are full. Clearing my throat and swallowing hard, I do what I can to at least cover some of my nakedness by using my forearm and elbow to push the plush fabric forward. Jackson is not the least bit shy. He continues to pierce a hot trail down my body, all the way to my feet, then back up, stopping at my hips, stomach, and breasts before connecting with my eyes again.
“Take your mutt home. Now.”
Turning away from him, I start to walk across the terrace toward Vivian’s side of the balcony.
“Not that way, for Christ’s sake,” he barks, raking masculine yet well-manicured fingers through his thick, dark, perfectly combed-back hair. “It’s dangerous. I can’t have anyone falling to their death from my balcony.”
“But, that’s the way I came,” I nervously inform him, ignoring his comment about my potential demise. I throw the wad of tissues over to Vivian’s side so I can dispose of it once I’m safely on the correct side of this terrace. Closing my bathrobe, I turn to him. “Mr. Knight, sorry, but I won’t be able to get into Vivian’s apartment if I go through the front door. It’s locked…I wasn’t thinking. Gosh, I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he shouts. “Just come inside. I’ll phone the concierge desk security guards. They have a master key to every unit.”
He steps to one side, leaving just enough room for me to get in from the cold. Peering into the lavish space, my first impression is that his condo unit must be twice as large as Vivian’s. It’s enormous, and tastefully decorated with masculine tones of neutral creams, tans and browns.
As I place one foot inside, my elbow brushes against the back of his hand resting on the door. My breath catches in my throat. What on earth was that? The moment I touched him, something transfers from his skin to mine and hits me like a freight train, spreading electricity through me so unexpectedly that I jerk away. I can’t explain what that was. Maybe attraction. Or lust. Or desire. That’s a first for me. I didn’t experience anything like that while making out with Noel Ashton, the only guy I dated in high school. We got to second base. Once. Maybe that’s why we never tried again. Chemistry was sorely lacking.
Jackson further surprises me by extending his arm across the opening of the doorway, blocking me from entering. “This is your last warning,” He says in a menacing baritone.
“Excuse me?” I ask in almost a whisper.
“Keep your mutt off my property. That’s not a request.”
“I will,” I assure him.
“Good, because if it happens again, one way or another, I’ll make sure you pay.”
How am I supposed to respond to that?