It had been too dark to see those differences last night, though she should have been able to feel some of them. The wide breadth of his chest and shoulders. The taut ripples of muscle across his belly. But in her own defense, she’d never seen her boyfriend without his clothes on before and she certainly hadn’t expected to find another man in his bed!
Which brought up another question. Where was her boyfriend? “Do you mind telling me what you’re doing here?”
He looked at her like she was crazy. “I live here.”
“Adam Delaney lives here,” she countered, wrapping the sheet around her. Josie recognized the heavy oak bedroom furniture and the African art on the walls and the colorful Persian rug on the beige carpet. Everything was familiar—except him.
“I am Adam Delaney.” He met her gaze. “Don’t you remember calling out my name last night?”
She was in no mood to reminisce. “You are not Adam. Not my Adam, anyway. I think I know my own boyfriend.”
He frowned as he pulled on his boxer shorts, then rose to his feet. The man had a good three inches on her boyfriend and at least thirty pounds. How could she have let this happen? Adam would never believe her. Not in a million years.
“Look, lady,” he said, “I don’t know what your problem is, but I am Adam Delaney. This is my apartment. My bed.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Do I have to show you my identification?” he asked, walking over to the dresser. He retrieved his wallet and pulled out his driver’s license, along with his passport.
His name was there in black and white. Along with his other vital statistics. She stared at his picture, wondering if she was in the midst of some crazy nightmare. Then she spun on her heel and escaped into the living room. Feeling a little dizzy, she plucked her slacks and blouse out of her bag.
He followed her. “Now tell me who you are and how you got into my apartment.”
She tucked the sheet under her chin to cover herself and hastily pulled on her clothes. She had no intention of giving this stranger her name or any other information. He already knew her much too well.
“Something’s not right,” she said, more to herself than to him. “I know this apartment. I know Horatio. I know Adam Delaney—and you’re not him.”
“You can call my mother if you’d like,” he said wryly, leaning against the doorway. “She’ll tell you that’s been my name since the day I was born thirty years ago. She’ll also tell you that I’ve been on a photo shoot in South America for the past four months. I just got back yesterday.”
He had to be lying. Had he done something to her Adam? Hurt him? She finished dressing, then let the satin sheet fall to the floor. Her blouse was buttoned wrong, but she was too upset to care.
He advanced on her. “I think we should start over.”
Her gaze dropped to the sizable bulge in his boxer shorts. What exactly did he mean by start over? Josie didn’t intend to stick around long enough to find out. Whirling, she scooped up her overnight bag with one hand and ran toward the apartment door.
“Hey, wait a minute,” he called after her.
She heard heavy footsteps behind her and almost tripped over the cat. But she reached the front door before he did, slamming it behind her, then she raced for the elevator at the end of the long hallway.
Luckily, the elevator doors slid open as soon as she pressed the button. She stumbled inside, then turned around in time to see him step out of his doorway and into the empty hallway. He still wore his boxer shorts and a befuddled expression on his ruggedly handsome face.
But she was the one who was confused. He claimed to be Adam Delaney. Her Adam Delaney. It just didn’t make sense.
She jabbed several buttons on the elevator panel, not caring where she ended up as long as he didn’t follow her. She wanted to get as far away from this man as possible. To forget last night had ever happened.
But when their gazes locked in the moment before the elevator doors closed, she knew forgetting him wouldn’t be easy. Not when his touch was still branded on her skin and their lovemaking was still burned into her memory.
So she’d just have to settle for never seeing him again.
2
ADAM STARED AT THE ELEVATOR doors long after they had closed. His dream girl was gone. Worse, he realized she must be crazy. He also realized he’d never met her before, at the bar last evening or anywhere else. He’d known that as soon as he’d seen her this morning.
In his business, Adam never forgot a face. Hers was unique, with wide-set green eyes and high, sculpted cheekbones. He wouldn’t describe her as beautiful, though her full lips and the tilt of her nose added an interesting dimension to her face that sparked his interest as a photographer.
The way she’d seduced him last night sparked his interest as a man. He’d wanted to make love to her again this morning, but the gleam of fear he’d seen in her green eyes had held him back. Despite his taste for dangerous pursuits, Adam didn’t chase unwilling women. Or crazy ones.
With a sigh of disappointment, he walked back into his apartment, a dull throb in his head from too many beers the night before. Horatio was waiting by the door, his tail flicking impatiently behind him.
“You should have warned me,” he muttered, moving toward the kitchen. But even as he said the words, he couldn’t regret what had happened between him and his mystery lady. She’d touched his soul as well as his body, something no other woman could claim. Something he hadn’t thought possible.
He reached into the cupboard for the bag of cat food, then froze. The shelves were stocked full. Cans of soup and vegetables. Boxes of cereal and granola bars. Several bags of assorted pasta. His cupboards had been almost bare when he’d left home four months ago.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Horatio replied with a loud meow, pacing beside his empty cat bowl. Adam filled it, then placed the bag back into the cupboard as more questions filled his head. How had his dream girl gotten into his apartment last night? How did she know his cat’s name? How did she know his name?
Ten minutes later, he was fully dressed and ready for some answers. He knocked on the door directly across from his apartment, hoping Mrs. Clanahan was an early riser. His elderly neighbor had offered to feed and care for Horatio while Adam was out of the country. Before he’d left for Rio, he’d stocked up on cat food and kitty litter, then given her a spare key to his apartment.
Maybe Mrs. Clanahan could explain how all that food had magically appeared in his kitchen cupboards. And how that strange woman had magically appeared in his bed.
But when the door opened, it wasn’t Mrs. Clanahan who greeted him but a middle-aged man wearing a torn white T-shirt and a pair of baggy red shorts. An old game show rerun blared on the television behind him and the stench of rotting meat permeated the air.
“Yeah?” the man said, scowling up at him.
“I’m looking for Mrs. Clanahan.”
“She don’t live here no more.”
“Since when?”
“Since she fell down and broke her hip about three months ago. Her daughter lives in Florida, so she carted her down there and sublet this apartment to me.”
Mrs. Clanahan had often talked about how much she missed her daughter. Too bad she’d had to break her hip to spend time with her. He felt a moment’s