“Grimm’s Fairy Tales.”
“What?”
“‘The Big Bad Wolf’ is not a nursery rhyme. The story first appeared in a collection of Grimm’s Fairy Tales.”
“Gee, thanks for the literary lesson. That’s exactly what I needed at the moment.” His sexy disc-jockey deep voice held more than a dollop of sarcasm.
“Would you rather discuss the cautionary tale of Hans Christian Andersen’s The Emperor’s New Clothes?” she asked dryly. “It seems more apropos under the circumstances.”
“I think we can skip the fairy tales altogether. How ’bout you just let me come inside?” He turned up the wattage on the grin, doing his best to look suave and debonair despite the awkward state of affairs, going all Cary Grant on her.
Janet had to admire his aplomb. Maybe her mother wasn’t behind this after all. “I’m still not convinced that letting you into my house is such a smart idea.”
“I’m not a deviant or a raving lunatic or anything like that,” he said. “And your mother didn’t hire me. I promise. I would show you my ID, but unfortunately, I don’t have it on me.”
He had a sense of humor; she had to give him credit for that. She sighed and stood to one side. “Come on in.”
“Thanks.” He edged past her, struggling to maintain his dignity while keeping his backside turned away and his front side obscured by the charcoal bag. “Perhaps your husband has something I could borrow to cover my er...bareness?”
“I don’t have a husband.”
Now why had she told him that? She should have said something like, oh no, my six-foot-seven, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound professional boxer husband’s clothes are way too big for you.
“Live-in lover?” he asked.
“No.”
“Perhaps an old boyfriend left a pair of skivvies lying around?”
“If he had, I would have torched them long ago.”
“Hmm, just my luck you’re not the sentimental type. Do you have an apron or a towel or anything like that?” His voice rose a little. “I’m not picky. Throw me a bone, lady. I’m desperate here.”
“I can loan you one of my bathrobes,” Janet said, trying to hide her amusement. He was in something of a pickle, and now that she realized he wasn’t part of Mom’s marry-off-Janet plot, she felt more sympathetic to his plight.
“Okay. Anything will do. I just need some coverage to get back upstairs to my place.”
“You live upstairs?” Janet couldn’t help but sneak a quick peek at his chest sprinkled with a nice number of curly dark sprigs. As her good friend CeeCee Adams would say: He’s a hunk among hunks, who wants a chunk?
“I just moved in,” he said.
“Me, too.”
“I’d shake your hand, neighbor, but under the circumstances...” He shrugged.
“Let me get you that robe.” With the canister of pepper spray still clutched in her palm, she hurried to the bedroom. Janet hated leaving him alone, but the guy was a neighbor. Surely, he wouldn’t try anything funny.
She pulled her bathrobe from the closet and scurried back to the living room. He was lucky she was tall and preferred plain terry cloth to fluffy chenille.
With a grateful smile, he snatched the robe from her hand. “Thanks a million. You’re a lifesaver.”
She stood there feeling awkward. The sensation was an odd one. Janet was a professional, a doctor. She was accustomed to being in control. Having a naked man in her house should not rattle her. Especially now that she knew he wasn’t being paid to seduce her.
But she felt more shaken than a James Bond martini.
“Do you mind?” he asked.
“Huh?” Janet realized that she had been staring at him as intently as a germ under a microscope.
He made a twirling motion with his index finger. “Turn around.”
“Oh. Yeah. Excuse me.” If she were the type to blush, her face would flame crimson. As it was, she pressed her lips firmly together and turned her back to him.
Is this smart? her rational voice queried. Turning your back on a naked stranger? What if he attacks you? What if he’s casing the joint to come back and rob you later? What if he’s lying about being your neighbor? Just because he’s cute doesn’t mean he’s harmless.
“Okay,” he said. “You can turn back around now.”
She turned.
He looked silly in her purple robe. The hem hit him mid-thigh and the sleeves, which were long on her, fell to his elbows.
In his hands he held the wadded-up charcoal bag. Sheepishly, he shook his head and a lock of sun-burnished hair flopped over his forehead, making him appear years younger than his age, which she guessed was probably four or five years older than her own thirty years.
“So you got down here...” Janet crossed her arms over her chest and tossed her head toward her patio. “How?”
“Gravity.”
“Har, har. No kidding. Gravity sucked you right through your shower and onto my terrace?”
He grinned. “Witty. I like that in a woman.”
“Clothes. I like them on a man.”
“All the time?”
“Don’t go there.” She fingered the pepper spray and his eyes followed her movements.
“Oooh,” he teased. “Armed and dangerous. I like that in a woman, too.”
“I’m waiting for an explanation,” she replied. “A good reason why I shouldn’t call the police and tell them I found a naked lunatic lurking outside my condo.”
“I doubt you’ll believe me.”
“Try it.”
“I’d just gotten out of the shower,” he began, “when I heard these mockingbirds squawking. They have a nest in the oak tree outside my terrace.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I had a towel knotted around my waist, so I stepped outside to chase away a big white cat hell-bent on getting to those baby birds. Apparently, he had an avian breakfast on his mind. Anyway, I leaned over the edge of the patio wall to scare him out of the tree, and the mama bird dive-bombed me and pecked the top of my head.” He reached up to finger his scalp. “I was only trying to help.”
“That’s what you get for being a good Samaritan.”
“Tell me about it.” He winced. “I lost my
