He’d said it was up to her what happened next.

Dani stood outside, frowning, one bare foot poised to take her back to her own room, one hand ready to knock on Teague’s door.

It opened suddenly, and Teague stood in the doorway, searching her face. “Are you coming in, or were you planning to stand there all night?”

Her terms, she reminded herself, stiffening her spine. “I was thinking about coming in,” she said. “But this is only about now. Tonight. Once we get back to Little Rock, everything will probably go back to the way it was between us.”

He shrugged, his gaze roaming down her body and back up to her face. “If tonight’s all we’ve got, then let’s not waste any more of it just standing here staring at one another.”

But he was so nice to stare at, with his tanned skin and well-defined muscles.

She reached out to him.

“Who’s wasting time now?”

GINA WILKINS

is a bestselling and award-winning author who has written more than seventy novels. She credits her successful career in romance to her long, happy marriage and her three “extraordinary” children.

A lifelong resident of central Arkansas, Ms Wilkins sold her first book in 1987 and has been writing full-time since. She has appeared on the Waldenbooks and USA TODAY bestseller lists. She is a three-time recipient of the Maggie Award for Excellence, sponsored by Georgia Romance Writers, and has won several awards from the reviewers of Romantic Times BOOKreviews.

The Man Next Door

Gina Wilkins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For my aunt, the “other” Gerry –

we’ll always share a smile over that.

Chapter One

Teague McCauley was so tired his steps dragged as he made his way from the parking lot to his apartment. It was actually an effort to place one foot in front of the other. He could feel his shoulders drooping. Even his dark hair felt limp around his face.

Though he usually took the stairs, he rode the elevator up to his third-floor apartment. He was the only occupant, since most of the other residents had already left for their jobs at eight-forty-five on this Tuesday morning. It would probably be quiet during the day as he got some sleep for the first time in more than forty-eight hours. Not that it would matter. He felt as though he could sleep in a blasting zone right now.

The elevator stopped and he pushed himself away from the wall he’d been leaning against. A few more steps, he reminded himself as the doors began to slide open, and then he could…

At the sight of the woman waiting for the elevator, he snapped instinctively to attention. He pulled his shoulders back, lifted his head and tightened his face into what he hoped was a pleasantly bland expression, nodding as he moved out of her way. “Good morning.”

She looked as fresh as a fall chrysanthemum in a bright orange top and crisp brown slacks, her long, glossy brown hair shining around her pretty oval face, her navy-blue eyes cool when she returned the greeting perfunctorily. “Good morning.”

“Have a nice day,” he said over his shoulder as he strolled away, his steps brisk.

“You, too,” she murmured, her reply as meaningless as the clichéd phrase that was all that had popped into his exhaustion-hazed mind.

He heard the elevator doors swish closed behind him, and his back sagged again, his feet almost stumbling the rest of the way to his apartment door. Yeah, he thought, fumbling with the key, you really wowed her with your witty conversation, McCauley.

Not that it would have mattered if he had come up with even the most clever line. His down-the-hall neighbor had made it very clear during the past few months that she wasn’t interested in getting to know him better. Something about the way she practically glowered at him every time she saw him, not to mention the ice that dripped from her tone every time he manipulated her into speaking to him, as he had just then, had given him a clue.

As an FBI agent, he liked to think he was pretty good at reading between the lines that way.

It was a shame, really, he thought, already stripping out of his black T-shirt as he headed straight toward his bedroom without even bothering to turn on lights in the spartanly furnished living room. She certainly was a looker. Face of an angel, body of a goddess. And all the warmth of a snow queen.

Totally out of clichés, he kicked his jeans into a corner, stripped off his socks and fell facedown onto his bed, wearing nothing but navy boxers. He didn’t have time for a relationship, anyway, he thought as consciousness began to fade.

Still a shame, though…

Dani Madison waited until she was certain the elevator doors were closed before she released the long breath she’d been holding. It was the same every time she ran into the man who lived in the apartment down the hall. Her breath caught, her pulse tripped, little nerve endings all over her body woke up and started tingling. Very annoying.

Fortunately, she rarely saw him. Maybe a half dozen times total, in the approximately four months since he’d moved in. He wasn’t home much, being gone sometimes for more than a week at a time, from what she’d observed. When he was home, it was at strange hours. Like today, just coming in when most people were leaving for work. Looking so tired she’d thought it was a wonder he was standing upright, even though he’d made an obvious, macho effort to hide his exhaustion.

He worked for the FBI. She knew that because he occasionally wore T-shirts with the letters stenciled across his chest. Sometimes he wore suits, and she thought she’d caught a glimpse of a holster beneath his jacket. Maybe that was part of the reason she found him so intriguing.

Well, that and the fact that he was absolutely, positively, heart-stoppingly attractive. Black hair worn a bit shaggy. Gray eyes that looked almost silver at times. Straight, dark eyebrows, neat, midlength sideburns, a jawline that could have been chiseled from granite, but with just a hint of a dimple in his right cheek to add a touch of softness. When he was unshaven, as he had been this morning, he had the look of a pirate or an Old West lawman. A little wild, a little dangerous—a whole boatload of sexy.

All added together, those things were enough to make her feel the need to run very hard in the opposite direction every time she saw him.

Not that he would bother to pursue her if she did, she thought, shifting her leather tote bag on her shoulder as she stepped off the elevator. Other than greeting her politely each time they passed in the hallway, he’d shown no particular interest in her. Mrs. Parsons, the nosy little old lady who lived in the apartment next door to hers, directly across from the man in question, showed more curiosity about her. Agent Double-O Gorgeous had barely even noticed her.

Exactly the way she wanted things to remain, she assured herself. She had spent the past fourteen months avoiding any complicated entanglements with men, most especially the dangerous-looking ones. And her FBI neighbor sat firmly at the very top of that list.

It had taken her more than twenty-seven years and a long, humiliating list of mistakes, but she had finally learned her lesson, she thought with a sense of accomplishment. Dani Madison was on her own, independent, self-sufficient, cautious and wisely cynical. It was going to take more than a rolling swagger and a pair of gleaming silver eyes to change her back into the naive and affection-hungry girl she had been before.

Dani hadn’t particularly wanted her date to walk her to her door the next Friday night, but he insisted on doing the gentlemanly thing and seeing her safely inside. Maybe he hoped she’d have a last-minute urge to invite him in, but that wasn’t going to happen, she thought as they stepped off the elevator. Anthony was a nice guy, in an accountant-next-door sort of way, but he set off no sparks in her at all.

Not that she was looking for sparks, really. A pleasant dinner with conversation that ranked somewhere above the entertainment level of the average television program was all she wanted from her escorts these days. Anthony had certainly provided the former, treating her to a meal in a very nice Italian restaurant. As for the latter—well, their dinnertime discussion had been only marginally more interesting than the latest episode of the medical drama she’d have watched had she stayed at home alone that evening.

Agent Sexy stepped out of his apartment down the hall just as she and Anthony reached her door. Too aware of her neighbor strolling toward the elevators, she smiled up at her companion and said briskly, “Thank you again for the meal, Anthony. I had a very nice time.”

He glanced wistfully at the doorknob in her hand. “I’ve had a good time, too. I hate for the evening to end so soon.”

“Yes, well, I have an early class in the morning and I have some preparation to do for it.”

The apartment door next to Dani’s opened a crack and a curious face peered out past the security chain. Dani knew old Mrs. Parsons had heard noises and was checking to see what was going on. The elderly woman was pleasant enough, but boredom made her intensely interested in everything that went on in the apartments around her. Seeing Dani looking back at her, she smiled sheepishly and closed the door again.

FBI guy had pushed the elevator button and was waiting patiently for it to arrive. If he was even aware of Dani and Anthony standing only a few yards away, he’d given no sign of it. Nor did Anthony seem to notice the other man as he nodded resignedly in response to Dani’s excuse for not inviting him in. “I understand. Maybe we can get together sometime next weekend? Go to a movie or something?”

“I’m not sure of my plans for next weekend. Why don’t you give me a call later in the week.”

Anthony’s expression fell even more. Maybe he’d read the lack of enthusiasm in her expression a bit too well. “Okay. So, uh, see you, okay?”

She tried to add a bit of warmth to her smile. She didn’t want to hurt the guy’s feelings. She just didn’t want to lead him on, either. “Good night, Anthony.”

He leaned over to give her a somewhat awkward kiss on the lips, which she allowed to last only long enough for courtesy’s sake. And then she drew away and opened her door. “Good night,” she said again.

“Good night, Dani.”

The elevator doors opened just as she stepped inside her apartment. She heard Anthony call out, “Hold the car, please.”

She closed her door without waiting to see if her neighbor had complied with the request.

High maintenance. Definitely the type who expected men to cater to her wishes. Exactly the kind of woman Teague preferred to avoid, even if they happened to be beautiful—which that sort generally was.

Having ridden the elevator down with his attractive neighbor’s latest dejected suitor only the night before, Teague was even more convinced now that asking her out would be a bad idea, despite the temptation to do so every time he passed her in the hallway.

He wasn’t proud of the fact that he’d chosen to wait for the elevator rather than take the stairs only because he’d been curious about how her evening with her hopeful escort would end. Or that he’d found some satisfaction in watching her send the other guy on his way.

Physical attraction, he assured himself, strolling into his office at FBI headquarters in western Little Rock Saturday morning. That was all there was to it. Any red-blooded male would be interested in Danielle Madison—for he’d learned that was her name. Apparently, she answered to the nickname of Dani, which was what her date had called her when he’d told her good-night.

He’d only bothered to find out her name for the sake of idle curiosity, of course. It was wise for a man in his line of work to have general information about those who lived close to him. So, while making an effort to discover Dani’s name, he’d learned those of the others nearest to him, as well.

There were four apartments on either side of the bank of elevators in the center of the apartment building, two apartments on each side of the hallway. His place was across from Edna Parsons, a widow who rarely left her apartment. The apartment next to his had been occupied for the past couple of months by a studious-looking woman in her midtwenties who seemed pleasant enough but wasn’t home much more than he was. The few times he’d seen her, she’d carried a heavy-looking backpack, so he assumed she was a student. Her name was Hannah Ross.

Directly across from Hannah lived Danielle Madison, the striking brunette he had mentally dubbed “The Princess” when he’d moved in and spotted her for the first time.

Hanging his jacket on the back of his chair, he settled at his desk and booted up his computer. He had a lot to do that day, entirely too much to waste any more time thinking about Danielle.

Maybe he should call one of his casual women friends this weekend. He’d been working too hard lately, hadn’t even had a dinner date in a couple of months. Like now, doing paperwork on a Saturday after being in on a sting operation until just after midnight the night before.

That probably explained why he’d spent so much time thinking about his neighbor. A simple matter of hormones too long ignored.

He couldn’t help chuckling, though, when he remembered how doleful that guy in the elevator had looked after being literally kissed off by Danielle. What a schmuck.

“So, what’s so funny? You’re the only guy I know who’d spend a Saturday in the office grinning over his paperwork.”

Looking up in response to the lazy drawl, Teague watched as his friend and associate Mike Ferguson slouched into the room. Slouching was pretty much Mike’s primary posture choice. Tall and lanky with a mop of curly hair that couldn’t decide whether it was brown or blond, he leaned, slumped, sprawled or flopped, but rarely stood at full attention. He claimed it was a lingering rebellion from his years in the military.

Teague shrugged in response to Mike’s question. “Oh, I was just thinking about this girl I know. Well, sort of know. Actually, I don’t know her at all.”

“But she still makes you smile over paperwork?” Mike dropped into a straight-backed chair—the only place to sit in the minuscule office other than Teague’s desk chair—and grinned quizzically at him. “Sounds like someone you’ll want to get to know.”

“Nah. High maintenance. Only dates drooling lap dogs.”

Mike shuddered. “Spare me from the princesses.”

“Yeah. That’s what I call her. To myself, of course.”

“She’s hot?”

“Let’s just say that sprinkler systems go off when she walks down the hall.”

“Man.”

“Yeah. Real waste.”

“Maybe just one date?”

Teague chuckled and shook his head. “Not worth it. She might look hot, but she’s cold as ice. And she glares at me as if I might carry Ebola or something. I’ll just settle for looking.”

Mike tsked sympathetically. “You want to go to Snuffy’s tonight? Might find someone there who’d let you do more than look.”

After giving it a moment’s thought, Teague shrugged. Hadn’t he just been telling himself he needed to get out more? Do a little opposite-gender socializing? “Sure, why not? I’ve just got to wade through this paperwork first.”

“How long’s that going to take?”

“Four, five hours,” he replied glumly.

Because he knew his co-worker wasn’t exaggerating, Mike nodded, stood and ambled toward the office door. “Just head over to Snuffy’s later, when you’re ready. We’ll meet up there.”

Putting hands to keyboard, Teague ordered himself to focus on work. He’d have a good time tonight, he promised himself. Thoughts of the ice princess down the hall wouldn’t even cross his mind.

By coincidence, Dani drove into her parking space at almost exactly the same time Agent Sexy pulled into his own space late Saturday afternoon. She locked her aging compact SUV even as he pushed the button on the remote lock to his small black sports car. They moved toward their apartment building at the same time, reaching the door simultaneously.

Nodding pleasantly, her neighbor held the door for her.

Tucking her large canvas tote bag under her arm, she murmured a thank-you and stepped past him. They strolled together down the hallway. Expecting the guy to take the stairs, as was his habit from what she had observed—only coincidentally, of course—Dani stopped to press the elevator button for herself.

She was rather surprised when Agent Sexy stopped with her.

“Long day,” he explained, as if noting the question in her expression. “Stairs just seem like too much trouble right now.”

She nodded and glanced up at the illuminated numbers, noting that the elevator was stopped on the fourth floor. Come on, she thought. Hurry up.

“You know, I moved in here almost four months ago, and I’ve never introduced myself to you,” he said conversationally. “I’m Teague McCauley.”

So now she had his name. Yet something told her she would still think of him as Agent Sexy.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, because she was expected to respond to the introduction.

“And you are Danielle Madison,” he murmured. The ironic twist to the words made her aware that he was mocking her a little for not introducing herself in return.

“How do you know my name?”

“I must have heard it around somewhere,” he replied, his expression bland.

She looked at him suspiciously. “I believe I’ll take the stairs,” she said, edging that way.

The elevator doors opened just as she finished speaking.

Agent Sexy—er, Teague McCauley, she corrected herself—stepped inside and held the doors for her. “Might as well ride now.”

She thought about turning and hurrying toward the staircase. But then she remembered that she didn’t let any man intimidate her now. And besides, this guy was safe enough, she assured herself, stepping into the car and turning her back to him. He was her neighbor. An FBI agent. Nothing to worry about, as long as they kept their interactions fleeting and impersonal.

“Got big plans for the weekend?” he asked in the tone of someone making polite small talk.

She kept her eyes on the closed doors in front of her. “Not really.”

“Me, either,” he said, even though she hadn’t asked. “I was thinking about going to a club or something tonight.”

She knew he worked a lot, just from those casual observations of his activities. She doubted that he’d had a free Saturday night in the past month or more, since she’d occasionally seen him coming in late in the evenings looking as though he’d just put in a rough twelve or fourteen hours on the job. Certainly not giving the appearance that he’d been out clubbing or socializing.

Though she avoided clubs like the plague these days, she couldn’t blame him for wanting an evening out on the town. He was youngish—early thirties, maybe? Only a few years older than herself. Certainly attractive. Looked healthy enough. He shouldn’t have any trouble at all finding companionship for the night. It occurred to her only then that she’d never seen him bring anyone home with him. No one. Not that he was home that much, really, but she’d have thought he’d have a friend over. A date. Someone.

And then she realized that in the past year she’d lived in her apartment here, she’d rarely invited anyone inside, either. She hadn’t made many friends since she’d moved to Little Rock. Didn’t date very often, and usually chose not to extend those dates past her doorstep. Her apartment had become her refuge. Her sanctuary. Maybe Teague McCauley felt the same way about his place?

She wondered if this conversation was leading up to him asking her out. Maybe to join him for an evening in the clubs. If so, she hoped she would be able to politely decline without making it awkward when they ran into each other in the hallway from now on.

The elevator stopped on the third floor and she stepped out, bracing herself for him to try to delay her. Instead, he turned toward his own apartment without looking back, saying over his shoulder, “See you around.”

“Um, yeah. See you.” Suddenly aware that she was staring after him, she hurried to her own door, chagrined at her behavior.

Wouldn’t her brother have laughed if he’d seen that exchange? She closed herself into her tidy, if inexpensively furnished living room with a frown of self-derision. She’d honestly thought Teague McCauley, aka Agent Sexy, had been angling to ask her out. She’d wasted several minutes mentally practicing polite rejections and it turned out he hadn’t been interested after all. In fact, she thought he’d made it fairly clear that she didn’t ever have to worry about that from him. Apparently, she wasn’t his type.

Clay, her twenty-one-year-old brother, had often accused her of vanity. Of thinking she was “all that,” as he had put it. And at the time he’d said it, he’d been right. That was back when she’d been a pampered daddy’s girl. Before her doting father dropped dead just over three years ago of a heart attack at forty-five. And before Kurt Ritchie had taken away almost all of Dani’s pride and self-respect.

God, she’d thought she was special. Pretty. Talented. Popular. Privileged.

What she had really been was spoiled. More needy than she’d realized. And so foolishly, dangerously gullible.

Maybe she’d been unknowingly slipping back into her old habits. Maybe the safe, ingratiating men she’d dated lately had made it easy to gravitate back into her old ways of thinking. If so, Teague McCauley had actually done her a favor with his lack of interest in her, she decided as she changed out of the blouse and slacks she had worn for work and into a comfortable pair of black yoga pants and a long-sleeved pink T-shirt.

Let him have his noisy clubs and eager women. She planned on a delightfully quiet evening with a good book, her favorite music and her own company. Which was exactly what she wanted, she assured herself firmly.

Someone tapped lightly on her door just as she headed for the kitchen in search of a light dinner. She froze, deciding immediately that Teague had come to ask her out after all. Maybe he’d just been giving her time to stew about his apparent indifference.

Very clever, she thought with a frown. If he thought playing hard to get was the way to pique her interest, he would just have to think again.…

“Oh. Mrs. Parsons,” she said, blinking at the little woman in the hallway outside her apartment. And didn’t she feel like a fool for the second time in twenty minutes? “Is there something I can do for you?”

The petite, white-haired woman, whom Dani had always guessed to be somewhere in her early seventies, nodded. “I’m trying to rearrange some furniture and I wonder if you’d mind giving me a hand with my bookcase. It’s a bit heavier than I thought.”

Dani had helped her neighbor before, a time or two. Bringing in groceries. Reaching something on a shelf that was over the little woman’s head. Changing a lightbulb. She never minded, figuring the woman asked as much out of loneliness as necessity. Mrs. Parsons had only one son, and he was a busy business owner who lived in Arizona, visiting only a couple of times a year. To her very vocal disappointment, he hadn’t bothered to provide her with any grandchildren.

“I can try to help you, Mrs. Parsons, but if it’s very heavy, we’ll have to find someone else to help. The maintenance guy, maybe.”

Mrs. Parsons nodded. “I think we can manage it. It’s just a matter of getting it started in the right direction.”

Still skeptical, having seen the woman’s heavy furnishings, Dani followed her neighbor to the apartment next door.

Teague was rather pleased with himself when he walked across his living room an hour after he’d arrived home, headed again for the door. His hair was still wet from his shower, and he’d donned a plain white shirt and jeans, nothing fancy for tonight. He’d considered staying in once he’d gotten there, thinking an evening of crashing in front of the TV with a sandwich and a beer sounded pretty good after such a strenuous couple of months on the job. Instead, he’d talked himself into going to meet Mike. He’d gulped the sandwich, substituted soda for beer and then made himself change and shave for an evening out.

He was too young—and too sexually deprived—to keep living like some sort of workaholic monk. When riding an elevator with his uppity-but-good-looking neighbor was the high point of his social life, it was definitely time to do something drastic. He supposed hanging out with his friend in a singles’ club, hoping to meet someone interested in a no-strings evening of fun, was better than nothing. Marginally.

Still, he couldn’t help being amused by the way Dani had looked when he’d walked away from her in the hallway. He’d known very well that she’d more than half expected him to ask her to join him at the club he’d mentioned. When he hadn’t asked—when he had, instead, walked away as if doing so had never even crossed his mind—she’d been more than a little piqued, despite her efforts not to let her reactions show.

Now that had been fun.

He suspected it was past time someone rattled the princess a little. Showed her not all men were eager lap puppies hoping for a crumb of attention from her.

He was just reaching for his keys when someone suddenly pounded on the other side of his door.

“Teague? Mr. McCauley? Are you there? We need your help!”

Dani, he thought immediately, all but leaping for the door. What the…?

She stood in the hallway, her dark-blue eyes wide, her long brown hair tumbled around her shoulders. “We need your help,” she said.

And despite everything he had thought about her earlier, he merely nodded and followed as she turned to rush away.

Chapter Two

Rather than leading Teague to her apartment, as he had expected, Dani rushed to Mrs. Parsons’s open door across the hall from him. Following, he stopped in the doorway, looking in amazement at the mess inside. “What on earth happened here?”

Wondering why he hadn’t heard the crash—he must have still been in the shower when it happened—he scanned the room from the heavy bookcase lying facedown on the floor to the broken knick-knacks scattered across the carpet. A fragile-looking straight-backed chair had been knocked over when the bookcase fell, and books and magazines were tumbled all around.

Mrs. Parsons stood in the middle of the chaos, wringing her hands. “I can’t even get to my bedroom,” she said. “The bookcase is blocking the door.”

“She wanted to move the bookcase a few inches to the left,” Dani explained in a low voice. “I tried to tell her it was too heavy, but she just grabbed it and pulled.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“No, thank goodness,” Mrs. Parsons said with a mixture of gratitude and sheepishness. “Dani pulled me out of the way just in time. I should have listened to her.”

“If you could just help me lift the bookcase so she can get to her bedroom, I’ll help her clean up the mess,” Dani said to Teague. “She and I can’t lift it by ourselves. We took everything off the shelves before we tried to move the case, but wouldn’t you know we set them on the floor right where it fell. There’s no telling what all is broken under there.”

Relieved that they were unharmed, he nodded. “Mrs. Parsons, stand over there, where you won’t be in any danger of being stepped on or bumped into. Dani and I can handle this.”

“All right. I’ll, um—I’ll make coffee,” she said, and bustled toward the kitchen before Teague could stop her.

“I’m sorry,” Dani said with an apologetic expression. “I know you have plans for this evening, but it scared me so much when the bookcase fell. I thought for sure it would land on her. Then afterward, I couldn’t think of anyone else to ask for help in lifting it.”

“Not a problem,” he assured her, kneeling to take one corner of the heavy oak case. “Can you handle that side? Just to keep it steady while I lift.”

She nodded. “Right here?”

“Yeah. Lift with your knees. You don’t want to hurt your back.”

“I know.”

The princess obviously didn’t like being given instructions, even for her own good, he thought, judging by her rather curt tone.

With Teague doing most of the heavy lifting, they managed to set the case upright. “Where do you want it, Mrs. Parsons?” he asked. “I’ll slide it into place for you.”

“Right there,” she said, coming back into the room to point to a position half a foot down the wall from where the case stood now. “Just far enough so I can set this chair beside it.”

He placed his shoulder against the end of the bookcase and shoved, bracing the front with one hand so that there wouldn’t be a repeat of the earlier catastrophe. “There?”

“Just a little more.”

Seeing Dani’s expression of sympathy, he smiled and pushed again.

“Right there,” Mrs. Parsons said in satisfaction. “That’s just right. Oh, dear, look at this mess.”

“I hope nothing too valuable was broken,” Teague said, reaching down to pick up a porcelain poodle that had been snapped neatly in half.

“Thank you, dear, but most of it is just stuff I’ve picked up here and there. Junk, really.”

Noting the regret in her eyes when she picked up the pieces of a porcelain rose, he said gently, “It doesn’t look like junk to me. I would guess these were things you treasured.”

She blinked rapidly, then turned toward the kitchen. “The coffee should be ready. I’ll pour. Just leave those things, Dani. I’ll put everything in order later. Come have coffee. And I have snickerdoodles. I made them myself.”

“I’d love to have coffee and cookies with you,” Dani said, placing unbroken curios on the shelves of the bookcase. “But Mr. McCauley has plans for the evening.”

“I always have time for cookies,” Teague corrected her on an impulse, following the women into the kitchen. “And the name’s Teague, by the way.”

“Oh, this is nice.” Mrs. Parsons beamed as she set a heaping serving plate on the table and pulled three mugs from a wooden mug tree. “I don’t have company very often.”

Thinking of the near disaster that had precipitated this impromptu visit, Teague felt a little guilty that he hadn’t made more of an effort to speak to his obviously lonely neighbor when he passed her in the hallway. “I don’t have homemade snickerdoodles very often,” he said, putting two of the cinnamony cookies on the flowery dessert plate she’d set in front of him. “This is a real treat for me.”

Dani had taken only one of the cookies for herself. She poured a drop of cream into her coffee. “I was just here last Monday, Mrs. Parsons,” she reminded the older woman. “We had pecan pie when I helped you bring your groceries in, remember?”

“Oh, yes. We had a lovely visit, didn’t we? I told you all about that nice young single man who goes to my church. You really should let me introduce you, Dani. I think you’d like him.”

Looking a little embarrassed, Dani studiously avoided Teague’s eyes. “Thank you, but as I told you then, I really don’t have time to meet anyone new right now. Between work and classes, I have very little free time for socializing.”

“Oh, you’re too young to work all the time. That’s what I was telling Hannah yesterday when she brought a package up for me. She’s the young woman who moved in next door to you a few weeks ago, Teague. Have you met her yet?”

“No. I’ve seen her a couple of times, but we haven’t introduced ourselves yet.”

“She’s a first-year medical student. All she does is study, study, study.” Mrs. Parsons shook her head in disapproval. “She’s only twenty-six and she keeps her head buried in those books. I told her she needed to take a little time to enjoy her youth while she has it, but she just smiled and said she would take time to enjoy life after she gets her degree. Just like you, Dani. You girls and your ambitions—there’s more to life than careers, you know.”

“What are you studying, Dani?” Teague asked.

She took a sip of her coffee, then set her mug down as she replied. “I’m taking music education classes at UALR. Minoring in psychology.”

“Yeah? We have something in common. I have a business administration degree from UT, but I also minored in psych. Always thought it was really interesting.”

“University of Texas?” Mrs. Parsons asked.

“Tennessee,” he corrected her.

She shook her gray head in disapproval. “Oh, goodness. You’re a Vol?”

He chuckled, remembering the red porcelain razorback figurine that had survived the crash in her living room. “Yes, ma’am. I guess you’re a UA fan?”

“Oh, yes. I never miss watching the Razorbacks when they’re on the TV. But I won’t hold it against you,” she assured him magnanimously.

He laughed. “I appreciate it.”

He turned back to Dani. “You said you have a job in addition to taking classes. What do you do?”

“I teach piano lessons.”

“She teaches six days a week,” Mrs. Parsons expanded. “She has so many students that she’s had to put some on a waiting list—and she’s only been teaching here for a year.”

“You must be very good,” Teague murmured, studying Dani over the rim of his coffee mug.

Her left eyebrow rose a quarter of an inch. “I’m very good,” she replied coolly.

He nearly choked on his coffee.

“The girls aren’t the only ones who work all the time,” Mrs. Parsons continued, apparently oblivious to any undercurrents between her guests. She pointed an arthritis-crooked finger at Teague. “Your hours are grueling. Doesn’t the FBI allow its agents to get any rest?”

Forcing his attention away from Dani, he smiled at the older woman. “Rest hasn’t been high on the priority list lately. But don’t worry about that. I get enough.”

“Make sure you do. Good looks and good health don’t last forever, you know. You’re lucky to have both. You should take better care of yourself.”

Teague grinned and winked at Mrs. Parsons. “Thanks for the compliment—and the concern. I’ll keep your advice in mind.”

“You do that.”

Having delivered her recommendations, Mrs. Parsons moved on to another subject. She chattered about a new shopping center being built not far from their building, about a new tenant on the second floor who had an unusual number of facial piercings, about a feature story she’d heard on the television morning show she’d watched earlier and about her son, who’d sent her roses last week for no reason.

The woman certainly could talk, Teague thought in amusement. He and Dani could hardly get a word in edgewise. Not that Dani seemed to be making much of an effort to do so. Was she always so quiet, or was his presence putting a damper on her conversation?

Dani didn’t want to leave Mrs. Parsons to clean up her mess alone, but her neighbor seemed in no hurry to start picking up while Teague was there. In fact, Mrs. Parsons seemed to be enjoying having an attractive young man in her kitchen. If Dani wasn’t mistaken, the older woman was actually flirting a little, and Teague was lapping it up.

Hadn’t he said he had plans to go clubbing that evening? Wouldn’t he prefer flirting with women his own age rather than a giggling septuagenarian? Dani supposed it wasn’t so late that he couldn’t go to the club after leaving here, but he certainly seemed in no hurry to go.

Deciding she was going to have to take the initiative herself, she finally said, “I’ll help you pick up in the living room now, Mrs. Parsons. I’m sure Teague has plans for this evening.”

He shook his head. “Actually, I’ve decided to stay in for the rest of the evening. Maybe read or watch a little TV. I’ve had a long week, wouldn’t mind a rest.”

Dani frowned at him. “I thought you said you were meeting friends at a club.”

He gave her a bland smile. “It wasn’t a firm commitment. Just an option.”

“I hope I haven’t kept you away from your plans on a Saturday night,” Mrs. Parsons fretted.

Turning a warm smile in her direction, he shook his head again. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve enjoyed the cookies and the conversation. Let me help you clear your living room.”

“Absolutely not,” she insisted, including both of them in her refusal. “You’ve done enough. I’d like to take my time to go through everything and decide what I want to keep and what I need to throw away. I’ll do that myself.”

Though both protested, she ushered them out without listening to any further offers of assistance. “Good night,” she said, smiling at them before closing the door politely in their faces, leaving them standing in the hallway, staring at each other.

“Well,” Teague said, “that was interesting.”

Dani couldn’t help smiling. “I suppose. I’m sorry about your plans for the evening, though.”

He shrugged. “I’m not. I was making myself go, anyway. It seems to bother other people more than it does me that I’ve been working more than playing lately.”

Dani wrinkled her nose. “That sounds familiar.”

It seemed like someone was always nagging at her about working too hard these days. Teague would probably identify with that, but he could never appreciate the true irony of the situation in her case. In all of her life prior to moving to Little Rock over a year earlier, Dani had never been described as being overly industrious.

He studied her face. “Piano lessons, huh? Like, to kids?”

“Mostly children,” she agreed. “A few adults.”

“Where do you teach?”

“I rent a small studio not far from here.”

“How long until you get your degree from the university?”

“I’ll have my undergraduate degree in May. Next year I’ll start working toward my master’s degree.”

“And then what?”

Doubting that he was really all that interested in her future plans, she shrugged. “I’m sort of playing that by ear.”

She had ideas, but she had no intention of discussing them with Teague. Especially not out in the hallway. She turned toward her apartment. “Thank you again for helping us with the bookcase. Good night.”

“Dani.”

She looked over her shoulder. “Yes?”

Was he going to ask her out now? If so, her answer would be the same despite the relatively pleasant hour they’d just spent together. He might pretend to be a mild-mannered, senior-citizen-helping, cookie-eating workaholic, but all her senses warned her that this lean, strong, inscrutable FBI agent was a lot more complicated than he tried to appear. And if there was one thing Dani did not need in her life right now, it was another complicated relationship.

“You should get some rest. You look tired.”

“Um—” Once again, he’d managed to render her speechless, in addition to bruising the feminine ego she’d thought she’d gotten under control a long time ago. “I will,” she managed to say after a momentary hesitation.

Looking entirely too pleased with himself, he nodded and moved toward his own door.

Dani and Teague ran into each other several more times during the next two weeks as October faded into November. There were times when Dani wondered if he deliberately made that happen, but she found that rather hard to believe. Her schedule was as erratic and unpredictable as his own, so he couldn’t possibly know when she would be arriving or leaving. It was only coincidence that they saw each other more lately than they had in the past; after all, they lived only a few yards apart.

And it wasn’t as if he was interested in pursuing her, anyway, she reminded herself wryly. He’d had plenty of opportunities to ask her out, if he’d wanted, and he had pointedly let them pass by.

They arrived home at the same time on a wet, cold, early evening. The parking lot was undergoing a week of repairs, so they had to park farther away from the building entrance than usual. Dani had just climbed out of her SUV, protected from the downpour by her roomy umbrella, when she saw Teague close his car door, no umbrella in his hand.

“Duck under,” she called out to him, motioning with her free hand. “There’s room for us both.”

Grinning, he crowded beneath the umbrella, matching his steps to hers as they hurried toward their building. Standing water on the pavement splashed upward from their feet, drenching the bottoms of the jeans they both wore on this Saturday evening. Dani’s shoes were soaked through to her feet; she envied Teague the waterproof hiking boots she noted that he wore.

They were both laughing when they stumbled into the entryway. Water dripped from the umbrella and the parts of themselves that hadn’t been beneath it. Juggling her bag beneath her arm, Dani closed the umbrella, trying not to soak everything around her.

“Wow,” Teague said, pushing a hand through his damp hair. “It’s really coming down out there.”

“And it’s cold,” she added, shivering. “My toes are freezing.”

“You should have worn thicker shoes.”

“You’re right. I should have.”

“Thanks for the shelter,” he said, nodding toward the umbrella. “I was still damp from getting into my car at the office.”

She shivered again. “No problem. I think I’m going to hurry upstairs, change into dry clothes and have a cup of hot chocolate to try to get warm. I’m cold all the way to the bone.”

“Hot chocolate. With marshmallows?” he asked, his expression instantly wistful.

“Maybe.”

“Sounds good. My mom used to make hot chocolate with marshmallows for me on cold, rainy afternoons.”

Even though she knew full well she was being played, she gave in. Who’d have imagined this tough FBI agent would have perfected the art of puppy-dog eyes? “I suppose I could make two cups of hot chocolate—if you’d like one.”

His face lit up. “I’d love a cup, if it’s not too much trouble.”

She hoped she wouldn’t regret this moment of weakness. “Just give me time to change and it’ll be ready.”

He pressed the elevator button. “I’ll save you the discomfort of climbing stairs in squishy shoes.”

She chuckled when her shoes squished as she walked into the elevator. Wet footprints glistened on the tile floor behind her. “I appreciate it.”

He leaned against the back of the elevator, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“I guess.”

“Any particular reason?”

She shrugged. “It’s just been a good day.”

“Glad to hear it.”

The elevator opened on their floor and she sloshed out. “I’ll see you in a few minutes,” she said.

“I’m looking forward to it.” He moved toward his apartment, adding over his shoulder, “It’s been a long time since I’ve had hot chocolate.”

Dani smiled wryly as she walked into her apartment, kicking off her wet shoes the moment she was inside. Trust Teague to make sure she didn’t think it was her company he was anticipating so eagerly. It was the hot chocolate that excited him—with marshmallows, apparently.

Which reminded her, she hoped she had some, she thought, hurrying into her small kitchen. Fortunately, she did. She remembered now that she’d picked up a bag when she’d bought the ingredients for the hot chocolate. Figuring she wouldn’t have much time before he arrived, she moved into her bedroom to change out of her damp clothes.

Tossing the shirt and jeans she’d worn into the hamper, she stood in bra and panties in front of her closet, her hand hovering over the hangers. It annoyed her to realize how long it was taking her to make a decision. Why was she acting as if she were dressing for a date? This was just an impromptu cup of cocoa with a neighbor, nothing more.

Donning an old pair of jeans and a rather baggy navy sweater, she slipped her feet into warm, fuzzy pink slippers and tied her hair up in a careless ponytail. She didn’t think she could make the message any more clear that she was making no effort to attract him.

He tapped on her door just as she was preparing to pour the cocoa into two sturdy mugs. She opened the door to him, and noticed immediately that he looked as though he’d had a quick shower in the fifteen minutes since they’d separated. His hair had been damp before; it was even more so now, slicked back from his face in a style that actually looked good on him.

He hadn’t shaved, and that, along with the sideburns he wore, gave him a rugged, tough look that made her heart skip. For a fleeting moment she wished she’d taken a bit more care with her own appearance. And then she shook her head in annoyance, pointing out to herself that he wore jeans, a gray T-shirt and sneakers, as casual as she was herself. She’d have looked ridiculous had she dressed up for this. Not to mention that she had no reason to want to primp for him.

Teague sniffed the air. “I smell hot chocolate.”

She smiled in response to his eagerness. “It’s in the kitchen. I was just about to add the marshmallows.”

“I like lots of marshmallows.”

“Then come add your own.” She led him into the kitchen.

She couldn’t help laughing as she watched Teague stack marshmallows in his cup. “You aren’t going to be able to get to your drink.”

“Watch me,” he said with a grin, carrying the mug to the table. “I don’t suppose you have anything to eat to go with this? I skipped lunch, and I’m kind of hungry.”

He didn’t lack for nerve. She supposed that was a good thing for an FBI agent. “I could make you a sandwich.”

“That would be great, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“It’s no trouble.” She watched him for a moment before moving toward the fridge. “How can you possibly drink that without getting a marshmallow mustache?”

He chuckled. “Talent. This is really good, Dani. Tastes just like I remember my mom making.”

She sipped her own as she pulled the makings for a turkey and Swiss sandwich from the fridge. “Is your mother still living?”

“No, she died when I was a kid. My dad remarried a few years later. He’s gone now, too, but I’ve stayed in contact with my stepmother.”

“Does she live in this area?”

He shook his head. “She’s in a retirement community in Florida. I get out to see her a couple of times a year. What about you? Is your family around here?”

“No, they all live in Atlanta.”

“I thought that was a Georgia accent I heard from you. Both your parents still living?”

Keeping her back to him, she swallowed hard. “My mother is. My dad died of a heart attack a few years ago.”

He must have heard the pain that she still couldn’t quite hide when she talked about her father.

“I’m sorry. It’s hard to lose them, isn’t it?”

Some people said that sort of thing almost routinely, not knowing what else to say. Because Teague had lost his parents, she took the quiet question the way he’d probably intended it. Literally. “Yes, very hard. Do you want mustard or mayo?”

“Mustard.”

“Lettuce?”

“Yes, please. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“An older sister, newly married, no children yet, and a younger brother, a single college student. You?”

Chuckling at the concise efficiency of her reply, he shook his head. “No siblings.”

She set the sandwich and a handful of baked chips in front of him, noticing that he’d almost emptied his cocoa mug already. “Do you want something else to go with this? Cola? Iced tea?”

“Tea sounds good. Aren’t you eating?”

“Not right now. I had a late lunch with one of my piano students and her mother.”

He swallowed a big bite of the sandwich. “It’s good,” he murmured. “Thank you.”

Setting a glass of iced tea in front of him, she took a seat across the table, her cooling cocoa gripped loosely between her hands. “You’re welcome.”

“This is nice,” he said, smiling companionably at her. “It’s good to have friends in the building.”

Friends. She was beginning to think that really was all he wanted from her. She had to admit that was a rather new concept for her. She wasn’t even sure it was entirely feasible—but she couldn’t help but be intrigued by the possibility.

So what did one talk about with a guy who only wanted to be friends? Searching her mind, she came up with, “How long have you worked for the FBI?”

“Almost eight years. I tried a few different jobs after college before sort of stumbling into this when I was twenty-five.”

“And are you—I don’t know what you call it. A special agent?”

He smiled patiently. “Yes. That’s what we’re called.”

“So you track down bad guys and stuff?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“Do you like it?”

He didn’t seem to quite know how to answer what she had thought of as a simple question. “It’s my job,” he said after a pause. “I guess you could say it’s pretty much who I am.”

“So you aren’t tired of it?”

“Not tired of it. Just plain tired, at times,” he replied with a wry twist to his mouth. “The hours have been pretty long lately.”

“I’ve noticed. Don’t you get vacation time?”

“I have some built up. I’m thinking about taking some days off around the holidays this year. Maybe I’ll go see my stepmother. I could use some beach time.”

“Sounds nice. I’ll be going home to Atlanta for Thanksgiving.”

He cocked his head. “Do I detect a hint of reluctance?”

“Oh. You know. Family.”

He smiled. “Even though I haven’t had a lot of dealings with family, I’ve heard enough from others to understand what you mean.”

“I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t sound insensitive.”

“No, you didn’t. What’s your family like?”

She laughed shortly. “That’s a little hard to answer. Why do you ask?”

“Not having much of a family of my own, I guess I’m curious about other people’s.”

When he put it that way, it seemed churlish not to at least attempt a reply. “My grandmother is nosy, blunt-spoken, addicted to celebrity gossip and rabidly loyal when it comes to her friends and family. Mother’s sort of flaky, has an incurable addiction to cutesy country decor and has a heart as big as Georgia. Rachel’s a talented interior designer, the smart, capable, organized one in the family. She’s married to a nice, good-looking physician, Mark Brannon.

“My brother, Clay, is still figuring out who and what he is. He came close to turning into a real loser a year or so ago, but Mark’s been a good influence on him. Clay seems to be trying to make something of himself now. He’s a decent guy, really, just drifted into the wrong crowd for a while.”

“That happens.” Popping the last chip into his mouth, Teague crunched, swallowed, washed it down with a sip of tea, then asked, “How would your family describe you, if I asked them?”

She grimaced. “Let’s just say I’m working to change the way they would describe me.”

He digested that with a thoughtful nod. “So, how’d you end up in Little Rock?”

“I needed a change of scenery.” Which was all she intended to tell him about that. Her college scholarship, the money her grandmother had given her to fund the move and help her get set up in the piano-lesson business, the reasons she’d felt the need for that change of scenery—all of that was more than a casually friendly neighbor needed to know.

Something about the way he looked at her let her know he’d read a lot more than she’d intended into her nonanswer, but he let it go. He stood and carried his plate, glass and cocoa mug to the sink, where he rinsed and stacked them. “Thanks for the food,” he said. “I needed the boost before I go out again.”

“You’re going out again tonight?” She tilted her head, listening to the rain still hammering against the windows. “In this?”

“No choice,” he said with a shrug. “Working a case.”

“At the risk of sounding like Mrs. Parsons, you really shouldn’t work so hard.”

He grinned and chucked her chin lightly with his knuckles. “Trust me, you look nothing like Mrs. Parsons.”

Wondering how to take that, she followed him to the door. “So, should I advise you to be careful tonight?”

“Sure. It’s always nice to have someone express concern.”

“Okay, then I will. Be careful.”

He paused in the doorway, one foot out in the hall. “Wor ried about me?”

She waved a hand in a negligent gesture. “You’re a decent neighbor. Quiet. Handy with furniture crises. Since you never know what you’re going to get with neighbors, I’d just as soon not have to deal with a new one.”

He laughed. “Trust you to keep my ego in check.”

Because that was so close to the things she’d thought about him, she laughed, too.

He took another step out. “See you around, Dani.”

“Teague?” His name left her before she’d planned what she was going to ask.

“Yeah?”

Oh, what the heck. It was going to drive her nuts if she didn’t get this cleared up. “You aren’t going to ask me out, are you?”

His grin widened. “Nope.”

“Not your type?”

He looked rather smugly delighted that she’d asked. “Too high maintenance.”

Surprised, she lifted an eyebrow. “You think so?”

“Honey, I know so.” He turned and strode down the hall way toward his door, saying over his shoulder, “Thanks again for the cocoa and the sandwich.”

Rather bemused, Dani closed her door and turned the lock. After a moment she started to laugh.

Chapter Three

Dani met her newest neighbor a little more than a week later. They crashed into each other—literally—when Dani stepped out of her apartment just as Hannah Ross stumbled out of the elevator, her arms piled so high with books that she didn’t even see Dani coming her way.

“I’m so sorry,” Hannah said, her fair cheeks almost as red as the curly hair she’d pulled back into a low ponytail. “I wasn’t paying attention. I hope you aren’t hurt.”

“No, I’m fine. Are you?” Dani bent to gather a couple of the thick textbooks scattered on the ugly green hallway carpet.

“Sure, I’m okay. I’m Hannah Ross, by the way.”

“The medical student. I know. Mrs. Parsons told me.”

Hannah smiled, her amber eyes lighting up. “She’s a sweet woman, isn’t she? She reminds me of my great-aunt.”

“Yes, I’ve grown very fond of her. I’m Dani Madison, as she probably told you.”

“Piano teacher and music student,” Hannah murmured, proving that Mrs. Parsons had been chattering to her, too. “It’s nice to officially meet you.”

They’d nodded and exchanged greetings in the past, but this was the first time they’d bothered to introduce themselves. Dani had thought the other woman was shy, perhaps. Or maybe one of those women who took an unreasonable dislike to Dani on sight—as a few women had. Now she was back to the shy theory, since Hannah’s smile looked friendly enough.

Dani, herself, had been so absorbed with work and studying that she hadn’t really thought to make friends with her neighbors, other than Mrs. Parsons, who didn’t really give anyone a choice about being her friend. Teague hadn’t given her a lot of choice, either, she thought with a slight smile. She might as well get to know Hannah while she was at it.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” Standing, she set the books she’d gathered on top of the pile in Hannah’s arms. “Looks like you’ve got a long night ahead.”

Hannah nodded gravely. “I have a gross-anatomy test next week. They’re killers.”

“I can imagine. My brother-in-law is a doctor, specializing in geriatrics. He’s talked about how hard medical school is, especially that first year.”

Hannah sighed. “They keep telling me it gets easier. I just hope I survive that long.”

“You will. So, good luck on your test.”

“Thanks. Um, maybe you want to get a pizza or something sometime? I’ve only lived in this city a couple of months and I haven’t met many people my age yet. As for single guys—I don’t think they exist around here.”

Dani laughed. “They exist. It’s just that the pickings seem pretty slim at times. And yeah, give me a call sometime when you’re taking a break from studying and we’ll order pizza and watch chick films.”

Hannah smiled. “That sounds like fun. It’ll give me incentive to keep studying for this test.”

So now she had another potential friend in the building, Dani thought as she stepped into the elevator, tucking her big tote bag more snugly beneath her arm. An old woman, a frazzled med student and a sexy fed. A diverse group, that, and she didn’t know which one was the more surprising as a friend.

As for which was the more disturbing—well, no question there. Only one of them had an uncomfortable habit of showing up unbidden in her daydreams.

Pushing that errant thought to the back of her mind, she moved to the back of the car when a young woman and her infant got on the elevator on the second floor. Nodding a greeting, she reflected on how her life had changed since she’d moved away from Georgia. She’d had dozens of friends there. An active social life. A growing reputation as a club singer. Family.

Now, with some distance behind her, she could see that former life a bit more clearly. Many of her friends had been of the fair-weather variety, hanging around only for the good times, notably absent during the bad. Her social life had consisted of a series of empty, unsatisfying relationships that had eventually led to a nearly disastrous affair with a man who’d almost destroyed her pride and self-esteem—and had once even resorted to physical violence. The clubs had been where she had met the string of losers and users she’d dated. And her family, while loving and well intentioned, had made it much too easy for her to continue her self-destructive ways by always bailing her out of trouble.

She had spent the past year trying to make a better life for herself. Pursuing a degree. Paying her own bills with money she made from her piano students, learning to deal with her own problems. Dating rarely, and then only on her own terms.

She didn’t really miss the people she’d hung out with, since she had stayed in occasional contact with the real friends in the group. She missed singing in the clubs sometimes. Frankly, she had enjoyed the applause. Though she knew she had talent, she had never particularly craved a career in the entertainment business. And she still sang quite often in the music department at the university, but she made little effort to take any starring parts.

She had finally, belatedly arrived at the conclusion that she didn’t need a spotlight to make her feel good about herself. Just as she didn’t need a man’s approval to validate her self-worth. She had been fortunate to figure that out at a relatively young age, and after only one painfully dysfunctional relationship. It took some women years to come to the same conclusion. Others, unfortunately, never got there, drifting from one bad situation to another, looking to others for something they could never seem to find within themselves.

And she was falling into psych-student-think, she realized with a grimace, climbing into her vehicle on her way to several scheduled piano lessons. It was typical of the average psychology student to either try to identify everyone around with some exotic neurosis, or to try to self-diagnose those same problems. Maybe she should just concentrate on her schedule for the rest of the day. Her life was on track now, and she intended to keep it that way.

Dani opened the back of her miniature SUV and studied the wooden rocking chair angled precariously inside. She’d barely been able to fit it in, and then only after several tries and assistance from a couple of helpful—and flirtatious—teenage boys. She smiled, remembering how cute they’d been with their swaggering and posturing, and then felt a bit old for thinking of them that way.

Reaching into her vehicle, she got a good grasp on the chair, preparing to haul it out.

“Hang on a minute.” Teague spoke from right behind her. “Let me help you with that.”

While she hadn’t minded accepting help from the teenagers, doing so from Teague was a little different. “I can handle it.”

“I’m sure you can, but you said I was handy with furniture, remember? When you listed the reasons why I made a pretty good neighbor. I don’t want to risk my rep.”

After a very brief mental debate, she stepped back, deciding that accepting his assistance with this relatively minor task was hardly admitting helplessness. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He worked the chair carefully out of the SUV, taking pains to do no damage to either. “It almost didn’t fit in there, huh?”

“It took some effort,” she agreed.

“Nice chair.”

“I bought it at a garage sale down the street. I love rocking chairs, and when I saw it sitting there, I had to stop.”

“It’s in really good shape. Looks comfortable.”

“Yeah. I was lucky to spot it before someone else did. The lady I bought it from said she forgot to set it out earlier. It could stand to be refinished eventually, but I think it looks fine for now.”

Carrying the chair toward the building entrance, Teague asked, “Do you shop at garage sales often?”

She shrugged, following him to the elevator. “I’ve found a few bargains that way. I don’t have a lot of extra money for decorating right now, so garage sales are a good resource.”

“Your apartment looks nice. Wherever you shop, you choose nice things.”

“Thanks.” The offhanded compliment pleased her more than it should have. “My sister’s the one with the decorating talent. Maybe I picked up a few tips from her along the way.”

“Or maybe you have talent of your own,” he suggested, hauling the rocker into the elevator.

She laughed when he set the chair down and took a seat as the elevator rose. “Comfy?”

“Mmm.” He yawned and rocked slowly. “I could probably take a nap right here.”

“You do look tired,” she commented, studying the shadows beneath his closed eyes.

“Thanks a lot,” he murmured without lifting his lids.

“I haven’t seen you around for the past week.”

“Been working out of town. Got back late last night.”

He looked really good sitting in her rocker with his eyes closed, his jeaned legs stretched out in front of him, hands crossed on his stomach. She had to clear her throat silently before asking, “Where have you been?”

“Oh. You know. I could tell you, but then—”

She rolled her eyes. “You’d have to kill me,” she said, completing the tired, overused joke.

“No. I was going to say, but then you’d have to pretend to be interested,” he said, opening his eyes with a smart-aleck grin.

She laughed as the elevator doors opened. “So, when you’re finished with your nap, would you mind bringing the chair to my place?”

He sighed heavily and lumbered to his feet, hoisting the rocking chair up again while she held the elevator doors open.

“Where do you want it?” he asked when she opened her apartment door.

“Just set it in that corner,” she said, pointing. “I’ll decide exactly where I want it later.”

“No problem.” He deposited the chair, then headed for the door. “See you later, Dani.”

“Can I offer you a soft drink or anything before you go?” she asked. “As a thank-you for bringing up my chair?”

“I’ll take a rain check, if you don’t mind. I’ve got plans for tonight and I need to clean up first.”

“Okay. Well…thank you.”

He shot her a smile. “You’re welcome.”

He let himself out.

Dani sat in the rocking chair, stroking her hands down the worn-smooth maple arms. It was only her imagination, of course, that the seat was still warm from Teague sitting in it.

She wondered about his plans for the evening. Was he working again? Or socializing? Was he seeing someone? Someone he considered less “high maintenance” than her? Someone who could enjoy his company without worrying about getting too deeply involved, or losing herself in a one-sided relationship?

She released a long, slightly wistful sigh, then pushed herself to her feet. She had a small steak in the fridge. She’d bought it on sale yesterday, and she had planned a special dinner for herself tonight. The steak, a baked potato and a crisp salad—a real treat considering her limited food budget. A feast for one, of which she intended to savor every bite. Without once thinking about Teague.

Okay, so maybe the latter was improbable, she thought ruefully, opening the refrigerator door. But she’d try to enjoy her meal anyway.

* * *

“Great party, huh?”

Looking up from the single can of beer he’d been nursing for the past half hour, Teague nodded in response to Mike’s shouted question. Then he leaned closer to his friend to ask, “Does it mean I’m getting old if I say that I wish they’d turn the music down a little?”

“Yeah. That’s exactly what it means,” Mike said with a laugh, leaning against the arched doorway that separated the living room from the formal dining room of the home in which the party was being held. The house was owned by Pete Schram, a lawyer who did some work for the FBI, and Pete’s girlfriend, an up-and-coming fashion designer who answered only to the name of “Z.” Z liked to entertain, and Pete indulged her by cohosting parties at least once a month. Teague had dropped in on a few, finding them always loud, frenetic, cheerful, exhausting. More so the latter tonight, since he was already tired, anyway.

He shouldn’t have come, really. Not after the week he’d put in on the job. But he’d found himself contemplating an evening alone in front of the TV, followed by turning in early, and that had made him feel even older than his wish that someone would turn the music down. Besides, if he’d sat at home, he’d find himself thinking too much about Dani, which was a bad habit he’d gotten into lately. He really needed to spend some time with another woman.

“Hey, isn’t that Kelly Something-or-other over there? The one you went out with a couple of times last spring?”

Looking in the direction of Mike’s nod, Teague spotted the curvy blonde smiling back at him from the other side of the room. “Callie, not Kelly. And yeah, she and I have been out a few times.”

Memorable times, he added silently. Callie’s one goal in life was to have a good time, making sure everyone around her did, as well. He’d always had fun with Callie, but that had been the extent of their relationship. She had a well-known aversion to permanent commitments, and he hadn’t been looking for anything more than someone to relax with between assignments. They had served each other’s purposes quite well while they’d been together.

Maybe tonight was the time for them to reconnect. He had a couple days off, and she looked amenable. Callie would keep him too occupied for a few days to think about…well, anyone else.

Or would she? Sending her a smile in return, he turned slightly away, breaking the eye contact. No need to rush into anything this evening. Especially since he wasn’t at all sure he wouldn’t be thinking about someone else even if he was with Callie.

“So, aren’t you going over there?” Mike prodded.

“I don’t think so tonight. I’m just back from that mess in Texarkana. I’m thinking about going home and crashing.”

“Oh, man.” His friend studied his face with a frown. “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you? The princess.”

It wasn’t the first time Mike had brought Dani up since Teague had carelessly mentioned her that afternoon at the office. Mike seemed to think Teague was developing a thing for Dani, despite Teague’s assurances that he wasn’t that masochistic.

“I’m just tired,” Teague argued. “Didn’t you just agree that I’m getting older?”

“Not that old. And you haven’t been acting quite right since that day I caught you grinning to yourself about something the princess said.”

“Stop calling her that, okay?”

“You were the one who described her that way,” Mike reminded him. “Hot, but high maintenance, I think you said. Have you changed your mind?”

After a momentary pause, Teague shrugged. “Well no, not exactly. But she’s not so bad, really.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Teague gave his friend a repressive frown. “This isn’t junior high, Ferguson.”

“And yet you’re still standing here mooning over the hot girl. So the difference would be…?”

Teague made a suggestion that would have gotten his mouth washed out with soap, had his stepmother heard it. Mike merely laughed.

“Hey there, sexy. It’s been a while.”

Both men turned in response to the throaty drawl. Callie had strolled to their side of the room, accompanied by a tall, slender brunette who was eyeing Mike in blatant approval. Cleavage prominently displayed, Callie touched Teague’s shoulder with a perfectly manicured hand. “So where have you been?”

“Oh. You know. Around.”

She laughed huskily, and he remembered just how that laugh sounded in a dark, steamy room. “Yeah. Me, too. So, maybe we’ll end up in the same place again sometime soon?”

“Yeah, maybe we will.” He knew it would only take a word from him for that “sometime soon” to be that very night. If he’d had any sense at all, he’d have said that word right then, before she found someone else to have fun with that evening. But instead he made a lame excuse about wanting something to drink, and he wandered off to the bar, leaving Mike to entertain the women on his own.

* * *

Dani had just finished an assignment for a Monday-morning class when someone rapped on her door Sunday afternoon. Closing her notebook, she crossed the room and looked through the peephole, thinking her caller might be Mrs. Parsons.

Seeing Teague in the hallway instead elicited her usual reaction; she ran a quick hand through her hair and glanced down to check that her chocolate-colored top and khaki pants were reasonably neat. For some reason Teague always made her conscious of her appearance, though she’d tried to put less emphasis on that during the past year.

She opened the door. “Are you hungry again?”

He chuckled. “No. Bored.”

“And what am I supposed to do about that?”

He gave her an enticing look similar to the one that had earned him a cup of hot chocolate and a sandwich just over a week earlier. “I thought maybe you’d like to go see a movie with me.”

“Oh. I—”

“It’s not a date,” he assured her. “I won’t be making any moves on you during the movie or afterward. I won’t even buy you popcorn, if that makes you feel any better. I just hate going to movies by myself and all my other friends already have plans.”

It was hardly the most flattering invitation she had ever received—and yet it had the result of making her feel relatively comfortable about accepting. If Teague really didn’t see this as a date, or a preliminary to anything of the sort, then there was no real reason she should turn him down, right? If her own imagination got away with her during the evening—well, that was a problem she would deal with at the time.

“Okay,” she said, because she could use a couple of hours of relaxation herself. “What movie do you want to see?”

He looked both pleased and a bit surprised that she’d accepted so easily.

“Just as friends,” she reminded him.

Holding up a hand in an I-swear gesture, he nodded. “I hope you like action movies. I don’t do tear-jerkers.”

“Neither do I. Give me an action movie any day.”

His smile widened. “My kind of friend. How does the latest superhero film sound to you?”

“From what I’ve heard, it’s got enough eye candy to keep us both entertained. Let me get my bag.”

She heard him chuckle as she turned away, and if there was a hint of smugness in the sound, she chose to ignore it.

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