With clenched fists, Sam knocked gently above the letter B painted in gold on his oak door. At first, she heard nothing. Then there seemed to be some commotion, as if things were being tossed around. She swore a curse word or two were uttered, and then the door flew open.
Holy shit, she almost said out loud when she saw the man in the doorway.
Towering over her in only a pair of faded jeans, his abs were the first thing her brain registered. Rippled, chiseled, and utterly defined, he was beyond being in good shape … he was fucking perfect. His arms were muscular, his skin was tan, his chest was wide, and she ached to run her hands over his well-proportioned pecs. However, when her gaze rose to his face, her enthusiasm fizzled.
With arctic blue eyes and an impatient sneer on his lips, he appeared far from friendly. His wavy hair was thick and a rich shade of dark brown. He had an edgy face. Not handsome, not cute, but mesmerizing. His eyes drew her in first, then his lips, and by the time Sam was admiring his perfectly carved jaw, she was captivated.
“Can I help you?”
He had a bewitching voice. It was deep, hypnotic, and something like a foghorn on the river in the middle of a misty night.
Damn it. Focus.
“Ah, I live next door, and you woke me up.” She pointed to her open door.
“You’re my neighbor? From apartment A?”
That velvety voice was lulling her into a false sense of lust. “Ah, yes, and you were banging on the wall.”
His eyes went up and down her figure. She wondered why she suddenly felt cold and then realized her robe had fallen open, showing off her short nightshirt. Grabbing at the robe, she quickly covered herself.
“Look, I’d appreciate it if you could save the decorating for the day,” she got out, trying not to turn red. “I’m a nurse, and I’ve got day shift all this week. I really need my sleep.”
He folded his arms over his chest, and Sam thought her heart was going to explode. “Sorry. I was just getting something set up.” He held out his hand. “I’m Doug, by the way. Doug Morgan.”
She took his hand. It was warm, thick, and she instantly got a sense of his strength. “I’m Sam, Sam Woods.”
His eyes were studying her face, making her toes curl. “What’s the Sam stand for?”
“Samantha, but I hate the name.”
He grinned. It was one of those mischievous grins that hinted at the bad thoughts motivating it. “Well, I know what to call you from now on, Samantha.”
She gaped at him. Seriously? The only neighbor on her floor and he was going to be an absolute shit. She shook her head. “Look, just please keep the banging to daytime hours when I’m not home. You can renovate to your heart’s delight then.”
Feeling the need to make a hasty exit, she turned for her door.
“I’ll keep it down just for you, Samantha.”
She stopped at her door and turned to him. He was standing in the hallway, watching her. Sam got an uncanny feeling, like they had met before, but she had never met anyone with those abs … ah, eyes.
“It’s Sam, just Sam, Mr. Morgan.” Hurrying inside, she slammed her door. “I am so screwed.”
This was not what she needed. It was bad enough he was a fantasy in the flesh, but his attitude was going to bother her immensely. Why couldn’t he be great looking with a wonderful personality to match?
“Then he’d be married,” she mused. “The good ones always are.”