Thirst (The Calvettis of New York 1)

I raise my hand to my chest, pat it twice and point at her.

She understands my silent invitation to join her, but the faint shake of her head is enough to keep me in place.

She’s not ready for more. Yet.

Fortunately, I’m a very patient man.

Chapter 9

Dexie

I turned him down last night.

I don’t know why I didn’t wave my hot-as-sin neighbor over when he gestured that he wanted to join me in my apartment.

After the regrettable shake of my head, he nodded at me and was about to turn away when I blew him a kiss.

It was an impulsive, sophomoric thing to do, but it did bring a smile to his face.

Once he moved to turn off the light in his apartment, I leaned against the window and cursed myself for not taking the plunge.

I’m doing it again now.

I woke up ten minutes ago, and the first thing I did was leap out of bed and dart for my window.

The hope that I had that he’d be standing there, shirtless with a cup of coffee in his hand, and another invitation to join me was quickly replaced with disappointment.

I sigh heavily before I turn around and face my apartment.

Handbags are everywhere. There are a few still on my bed. I pushed those aside before I went to sleep. Four of them are on the kitchen counter. They’re in my “maybe” pile.

I’m no closer to deciding which purses to show the potential investors than I was last night.

A soft knock at my apartment door draws my gaze up.

Could it be? Is it possible that my neighbor decided to show up on my doorstep unannounced?

I run my hands through my hair and look down at what I’m wearing.

After I took a shower last night, I slipped into a pair of pink panties and a black T-shirt.

Another series of raps on my door lures me closer. I take a few tentative steps before I call out, “Who is it?”

I want to know his name. I ache to know the name of the man who was staring at me last night.

“It’s me.”

My hope deflates at the sound of Sophia’s voice on the other side of the door.

“Sophia?” I ask for no reason other than to give me enough time to yank on a pair of cut-off jean shorts over my panties.

“I have coffee and those banana chocolate chip muffins you love,” she singsongs. “Open the door, Dex.”

I rub my hands over my face. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m glad she’s here. I need help choosing which handbags I’ll show the potential investors.

That has to be my priority today even though all I want to do is spend this Saturday sitting on the windowsill staring into the apartment across from mine.

***