Page 52 of Landlord Wars
“You can’t be in here,” I told him.
He glanced around, his gaze landing on the cream bra I’d torn off as well.
I stiffened, heat blooming in my face. Apparently, I was a post-work clothes discarder. And this discarded apparel was dangling from the single chair in my room, reminiscent of the underwear that had marked the start of our relationship.
I forced my eyes to stare straight ahead and not down at my chest to see if it was obvious I wasn’t wearing a bra.
Max lifted one eyebrow. “More unmentionables?”
I pointed my finger at the door. “Get out!”
“Sure. Though maybe you’d like me to show you the circuit breaker before I leave?”
He was so annoying, and that was a good thing, because I was no longer thinking about the kiss or the naked patch of chest taunting me. “Quickly.”
He reached behind the bedroom door to a wall-colored panel I hadn’t thought anything about because I wasn’t used to electrical panels. When a fuse blew at home, my mom was the only person willing to climb the rodent-infested terrain of our garage to reach it. It was kind of her thing. Though now that I thought about it, probably not entirely safe.
The snapping of switches sounded, and then Max closed the panel. “Do you want to check and see if the lights are on? If not, something else could be the problem.”
I gestured to myself. “You want me to go out there? Alone? While you stay in my bedroom?”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re very protective of your room. I didn’t even touch your silk bra.”
“But you noticed it!”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “As any man would.”
“You go first,” I said, shooing him out.
He gave me the half shrug of a confident man and walked out of my bedroom and down the hallway.
As we neared the living room and kitchen, I saw that the lights were on. Whatever switches Max flipped had done the trick.
He looked around, seemingly satisfied. “Don’t worry about the fridge; it’s on a different circuit, and I heard it running when I walked in.”
I hadn’t even considered the fridge. I swear I was the responsible one at home—dumpster-diving through the garage not included—but you wouldn’t know it today. “Thank you,” I said.
He scratched his jaw. Usually he was clean-shaven, but today he had a bit of stubble, and it made him look less refined, more rugged, and ridiculously hot. “About the other night…”
My body returned to its petrified state of a moment ago. He was bringing it up?
I wasn’t prepared for my extremely hot, wealthy landlord to explain why he shouldn’t have kissed me. “Totally forgotten,” I said, feigning cheerfulness, and smiled for good measure.
He hesitated a beat, his brow pinched. A second later, he said, “I’d like to cook you dinner.”
My smiled slipped. “What?”
“Dinner? Food? That thing we need to sustain ourselves?”
“You can cook?” I said lamely.
“Passably. You have plans later?”
“No,” I said before thinking better of it. “But—”
“In an hour, then.” He opened the front door to leave, but before he exited, he leaned into the doorjamb, raking his gaze over me, mouth curved up in a sensual smile. “It’s casual. You don’t even have to put your bra back on.”
He knew! Heat flooded my face as Landlord Devil closed the door.
