Chapter 2

Still wearing the boy shorts but with a spare T-shirt thrown over it, I headed to the parking deck and hopped into my faithful truck, Jenny, named in honor of my late mother. I couldn’t wait for my vacation to start at the end of the day after I wrote up my report and did some paperwork.

The drive to my condo took a little over half an hour, and it was quiet on the city streets. When I parked in my assigned spot, I sighed with relief. At last I could decompress from a really shitty night. Naturally, after taking the stairs to the third floor and walking down the hallway, my yummy neighbor stepped outside his door and locked it.

Since the first time I’d seen him, I’d thought he was the hottest thing on the planet. It wasn’t that he was handsome or anything, but his face was interesting and the scar on his forehead told a story I’d definitely like to hear, if the guy would ever say something to me other than “hello.”

He was taller than me—easy to do since I was only five feet nine inches—and had sad gray eyes and dark blond hair long enough to be pulled back in a ponytail that hung past his shoulders. I wondered what it would look like down. He was huge, too, making me think of a giant, gentle teddy bear. We rarely crossed paths because of my erratic schedule, but it always made my day to lock eyes with him.

I pretended to stumble so I lightly bumped into him—oh, he was firm, wasn’t he?—and he immediately reached out his hands to steady me. Such strong, warm hands.

“Are you alright, man?” he asked in that rumbling deep bass of his. My tired body responded, despite its aches and pains.

“I’m fine, thanks for the assist,” I replied, secretly pleased he’d spoken four words to me. “Been a long night.” I remained where I was, slightly in his personal space and enjoying the scent of him. The man looked really good in his T-shirt and jeans.

“I see.” He looked me up and down, and I remembered my hot pants. The quirk of his lips into a smile was encouraging. “You moonlight as a dancer or something?” he asked, gesturing to my attire.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” came out of my idiot mouth and I regretted it immediately when I saw the wary expression on my neighbor’s face. Way to impress,Dumbass.“Ignore me. I say ridiculous stuff when I’m exhausted.”

He relaxed a bit and I breathed an internal sigh of relief.

“Say, we’ve seen each other from time to time but have never officially met.” I held out my hand. “Jerry Sanger.”

His huge paw engulfed mine and I could tell he was deliberately trying not to crush my fingers. What would it be like to feel all that strength unleashed and focused entirely on me? Before my thoughts could get too dirty, he said, “Horace Guffey. Most people call me Guff.” The man of my dreams finally had a name.

We shook hands and I let his hand go, though I was loath to do so. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Guff.”

“Same here.” He stepped back, and already I missed the heat of his presence. “Well, I’m off to work. See you around.” He lifted a hand in a wave and headed for the stairwell. The view from the back was even better than from the front, with his firm ass just begging for my hand to slap it.

“Bye,” I called out and waited until the door closed before heading to my own apartment.

First things first: remove boy shorts and burn them. Next: apply Vaseline to tender areas. Last: snuggle in bed and have sweet dreams about my teddy bear Guff tonight. This morning. Whatever.

* * * *

“No way. Not doing it.” Hadn’t they heard what I’d said earlier that day? I was tired of junk assignments.

“Jerry, you’re the best man for the job and you know it. You could pass for a woman, easy,” Jackson said, trying to hide the smile I could clearly see wanting to burst out on his face. “You have to wear the outfit for only a few hours while we do the rest. You’re the lovely distraction that’ll clinch the deal. We need you, Peaches.”

“Tell me that’s not the name you’ve given me, please.” I scowled at my cackling brothers in arms and knew with dawning horror that they once again were about to make my life a living hell. One day, they’d pay for all this.

“I’m tired, guys. We agreed I could take vacation starting this evening. Have you forgotten that?”

At least they had the good grace to look sheepish. “Sorry, Jer, but this was a last-minute thing, and it’s good money.”

“Not everything’s about money, you know.”

“Speak for yourself,” one of them grumbled. It was an old argument.