Standing outside her apartment door an hour later, Angie bit back a sigh as she dug into her backpack for her keys. Since the bag served as a catchall for everything from train tickets to pencil stubs, it was taking her a while to find her key ring. The backpack was precariously balanced on one knee, and she was attempting to hold on to a take-out package of rice and Indian curry with her free hand. She rested her knee against the outer grill to stop herself from falling over.
“Excavating again?”
The takeout wobbled precariously, and she bit back a curse as it tilted a little to the side. Thankfully the box was very well sealed and nothing spilled. She turned to find Alex standing in front of her with a smile on his face. It was the first time she had seen him since their brief encounter at the coffee shop nearly a week before.
She pursed her lips in frustration. “What were you trying to do? Scare a few years off my life?”
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned casually against the wall.
“You were not scared.”
“Yeah… No thanks to you. And I almost lost my dinner,” she said. “Did you go on a trip or something?”
“I take it you missed me, then?”
“Careful there, your modesty is showing.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
She sighed and shoved her meal at him. “Here, make yourself useful and hold this for me.”
She turned away to search once more for her keys. With fresh determination, she jiggled her backpack and finally clasped her hand around them.
“Thank goodness!” she muttered.
She opened her door and turned around to face him, swallowing as she took in his lean form dressed casually in a T-shirt over jeans. Nothing spectacular, yet on him the effect was incredible. She looked up and met his warm brown eyes. All traces of amusement were gone. Instead he was staring at her with deep intensity, almost as though he could see past the front she presented to the world to the real person inside. Feeling uncomfortable, she averted her gaze.
“Ah, thanks for holding my dinner,” she said, taking it back from him.
“My pleasure.”
She waited a beat and then reluctantly turned to go inside.
“Wait.”
She paused and turned back to him. He was smiling sheepishly.
“I got you something for Christmas.”
She shuddered inwardly at the reminder that it was Christmas day. A year ago today her entire world as she had known it had ceased to exist. No one could blame her for detesting the holiday and all the festivities that came with it.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, meaning it.
He shrugged, and a lock of hair fell over his forehead. She wanted to reach up and put it back in place. She didn’t, of course, but it kept nagging at her.
“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. Here.”
She hadn’t even noticed that he was holding a shopping bag until he held it out to her. She hesitated, but finally took the bag.
“Thank you.”
“Right. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you, too. Would you like to come in?” She wasn’t sure what made her ask, but suddenly it felt like the right thing to do.
He gazed at her steadily, as though measuring his reaction. And then he nodded slowly, which further convinced her that she’d made the right decision.
“Follow me. I still have some of that lovely ice cream you sent over. We could share that.” She smiled and led the way into her apartment, which opened into a cozy living area.
Angie’s apartment was decorated in earth tones with red accents and had a clean and sparse feel to it. She had fallen in love with the place the moment she’d walked in a couple of weeks ago. The clean lines and minimalist decor were in such sharp contrast to the chaos she’d left behind that she’d immediately relaxed, breathing for the first time in close to a year, or so it had seemed.
She took off the tiny black shrug she wore on top of her short floral-patterned summer dress and motioned for him to take off his shoes just inside the door, but he was already doing so. It was just one of the cultural differences she’d had to adjust to when she came to Kuala Lumpur; everyone took off their shoes before entering a home. She compromised by taking hers off inside her apartment.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asked as she turned on the air-conditioning. It might have been December, but Malaysia was as hot as Texas in July. When he nodded she moved toward the kitchen area. “Hot or cold?”
“Do you have any alcohol?”
“Um, there’s Scotch, vermouth, and some wine, white and red.” She catalogued the small bar she’d found when she’d moved in.
“I could do with a Scotch, thanks.”
“Make yourself comfortable,” she said from the kitchen, pausing to put down the takeout before reaching for a glass. She turned and found him sitting at the bar that separated the kitchen from the dining area. She raised an eyebrow but remained silent.
“So what made you change your mind?”
Angie frowned in confusion. “Change my mind about what?”
“About me.”
She glanced at the bottle in her hand before looking at him. When their eyes met, her pulse began to race and she felt that strange breathlessness again. “Who said I had?”
“You would not have invited me in if you had not.”
“But I invited you in the other day.”
“And heaved a huge sigh of relief when I didn’t take you up on it.” His eyes were twinkling with amusement.
She turned and pulled open the fridge, surprised that he was so astute.
“Ice?”
When he shook his head, she shut the fridge door and turned back to him. As she poured golden liquid into the glass, she searched for what to say. She knew what he was talking about; for the past year she’d ignored any form of male attention. But with her sexy next-door neighbor, she’d had to fight hard to remain aloof. Tonight was different, though. She had a deep need to forget and an inexplicable feeling that her gorgeous neighbor was just the person to help her do that.
“I only invited you in for some ice cream.”
“And here I am.” He raised the glass in a mock salute before emptying its contents down his throat. “You’re not planning anything weird, are you?”
“Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Is the ice cream poisoned?”
Angie started to chuckle but quickly stopped herself and rolled her eyes instead, then perched on the only other high stool right beside him. She crossed her legs, the hem of her dress only coming to midthigh, and pushed back a few strands of wheat-blond hair that had escaped the clasp she’d used to subdue it earlier that day.
“Why would you think I’d want to poison you?”
“Any number of reasons.”
“You have a lot of women trying to poison you?”
He smiled wryly. “You’d be surprised at how many.”
“Well,