“I think you’re overreacting,” I said dryly.
Jordan flashed me another terrifying look that had me taking a step closer to the door. Almost there. Freedom. So close. I reached for the doorknob just as she said. “I know!”
My entire body felt like it had just been electrocuted. Looking back on this moment, I’d recognize it for what it really was—somehow she’d channeled whatever superpowers Max possessed and shifted the universe, deciding my future, my destiny, without ever asking my opinion in the first place.
“You.” Jordan stalked toward me. “You have an apartment.”
It was the perfect opportunity to lie. Really, I was an actor. I could make her believe I’d sold my penthouse within the last twenty-four hours because I wanted to live on the streets.
In a box.
Or a cart.
Hell, I could have said I was renovating, right? Joined the circus?
But her face.
I was always a sucker for a pretty face.
And hers was more than pretty; it was pathetic pretty. Large brown eyes blinked up at me, their innocent trust making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Damn it! I needed to look away.
But I couldn’t.
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
She put her hands on her hips, which drew me in more, because damn, did the girl have some delicious curves on her. What was that smell? Her perfume? I was falling . . . oh, no, it was happening . . . she was using her feminine wiles on me. And I was a powerless bastard.
I needed someone to hit me over the head with a cement block.
Instead, she fluttered her eyelashes twice.
And I hung my head and muttered, “Grab a suitcase.”
“Yes!” Jordan jumped into the air, then launched herself into my arms, nearly sending me flying backward. Her legs wrapped around my waist and suddenly she was kissing me on the mouth, then hopping down before my body had time to register that the gorgeous woman had all but pressed her goodies against mine. “You’re the best!”
Wait! My body tightened. I should at least get sex out of the deal, right?
As a thank-you?
“At least first base,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Pardon?” Her eyebrow arched, making me feel ten inches tall.
“Just, uh . . .” I scratched my head. “Sorry, it’s a sports metaphor, you know, pass first base, the hardest base, and you’re home free!”
“Oh.” She shrugged. “For a minute there I thought you were asking for a sexual favor.”
“Never!” Hell, yes, I was. Instead I broke eye contact and rubbed my hands together. “Let’s grab your shit and go.”
Jordan rolled her eyes and disappeared into the bedroom while I shakily leaned against the wall and wondered what the hell I’d just agreed to.
“Ground rules,” I stated once we were riding the elevator up to my apartment. I was holding a suitcase and a plant she’d refused to leave behind because she’d kept it alive for three freaking years. Another mark against her, considering anyone who could keep a plant alive that long needed to get laid, or just find a hobby, any hobby that made their life look less pathetic. Checkers. I’d have more respect for her if she was in a checkers club.
But no, my new roomie-slash-shrew fake girlfriend had a plant fetish.
And she wasn’t the only one having a rough day.
Otis let out a pitiful moan.
“Shh, Otis.” Jordan rocked the small shih tzu back and forth like it was an infant, then kissed its head. “We’re almost there.”
I cleared my throat just as the doors opened, revealing the marble penthouse lobby.
“Holy crap!” Jordan did a little spin.
“Wait.” I stopped her spinning and jerked my hand back just before Otis took a giant bite out of my thumb. “Ground rules, remember?”
Jordan rolled her eyes. Her frizzy hair had yet to calm down, and if anything it had doubled in size and was cheerfully growing to the tune of “Stairway to Heaven.” Her big brown eyes were makeup-free, her complexion flushed but beautiful. Her round face only made her appear more feminine and enticing.
Which was the last thing I needed.
An attraction to my roommate.
And publicist.
And shrew.
What the hell kind of day was this?
Jordan peeked around me, her gaze on the large black double doors behind me. “Jordan, focus!”
“Sorry.” She returned her gaze to me. “Ground rules. Yes.”
I held up a finger. “One, you’re only here until we can find a place for you to live where you won’t get electrocuted.”
She nodded.
“Two.” I held up two fingers. “I like order, you know, clean lines, clean laundry, made beds, no dirty dishes—”
“Whoa.” Jordan chuckled. “Are you saying you really are gay? It makes perfect sense!” She slammed her hand against her forehead. “The need for a good publicist, the whole taming of the shrew. Who is he?” She was already pulling out her cell, ready to do damage control.
“Chill.” I held up my hand. “Not gay, just a type-A personality.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Fine.” I sighed. “I’m settling this.”
I went in, molding my mouth to hers, her protest dying against my lips as my tongue swiped her lower lip, once and then twice, before entering into the sweet velvet delicacy of her mouth.
Otis moaned.
Or maybe it was me.
Jordan wrapped a hand around my neck, pulling me closer.