wiggle. It didn’t do a damn thing.
Locked. How? Why? No, no, no. This wasn’t funny. Wait. There had to be a way to unlock it, right? She ran her hand under the knob, over the wood, her movements growing faster as the repercussions hit her. No, no, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. She’d be trapped. Better trapped than caught by Newman, though. The thought of how she’d look set her cheeks on fire.
Wait a minute. Maybe she should let him set her free. Then he’d have to explain what he was doing entering her apartment. But first, she’d have to explain what she was doing in her closet. Or would she? A person had a right to be in her own closet.
She lifted her hand to knock, then let it drop again.
“That’s a big box,” the super said.
“Yep.”
“You gonna tell me what’s in it?”
“Nope.”
So Chase hadn’t been putting on an act last night. He really did talk like Gary Cooper.
“I get it,” Mr. Wojewodka said. “It’s a surprise.”
“Right.”
Footsteps, followed by a creak of the front door. They were leaving. If she didn’t do something now, she’d be locked in here for who knows how long—which would have been okay if only she hadn’t decided to brush her teeth before taking care of her…other business in the bathroom this morning. Clenching her teeth and vowing revenge, she knocked on the closet door.
“Did you hear something?”
She didn’t hear a response. Mr. Wojewodka must have shaken his head.
She knocked again, louder this time, cursing Chase, Darlene Whittaker, Fred Holt and everyone else connected to this malarky.
“Wait a minute.” That was Chase’s voice. “It’s coming from the closet.”
“Nah, couldn’t be.”
“Just hold on.”
His boots sounded terribly loud on her floor. It was like listening to the firing squad take their positions. She wished like crazy that she’d at least had time to brush her hair.
He pulled on the door, unlocked it, pulled again—and this time the door swung open. She crossed her arms over her chest.
Chase looked at her with a completely calm face, as if finding her in the closet was the most normal thing in the world. But after a few seconds his head tilted slightly to the right. “Are you trying to tell me you’re gay?”
“No, I’m not.” She stepped around him, making sure they didn’t touch. Wondering if anyone had ever died of embarrassment. Perhaps she would be the first.
“I mean, if you are gay, that’s all right.”
“I’m not gay,” she said, not daring to look at him.
“Ah. So actually being in the closet wasn’t symbolic or anything.”
“No. I was…” She cast about for an explanation, any explanation. “I was looking for my cat.”
“You got a cat?” Mr. Wojewodka asked.
She whirled around to find the building superintendent at the front door. Great. A witness to her humiliation. It would be all over the building by rush hour.
“Did I say cat? I meant hat. I was looking for my hat.”
Mr. Wojewodka looked at Chase. Chase looked back.
“Which,” she said, raising her voice, “is completely beside the point. Care to tell me why you broke into my apartment?”
“I didn’t.” Chase nodded at Max. “He was nice enough to let me in.”
She frowned. “Why on earth would he do that?”
“Because I didn’t want to leave that outside.”
She turned to where he pointed—to a long, gold box perched on her couch. Flowers. It had to be. Because what else would be in a flower box?
Quelling her urge to race over and rip off the top of the box, she faced Chase again. “Sometimes when a person doesn’t answer the door, there’s a reason.”
“Right. I should have figured you were locked in the closet.”
“I wasn’t.”
His right brow rose.
“It doesn’t matter where I was, or what I was doing. My home should be private.” She marched over to the door and Max, her bare feet slapping on the hard wood. “Mr. Wojewodka, I’m surprised at you.”
He had the decency to look embarrassed as he leaned toward her. “Do you know who he is?”
“Yes, I do. Do you?”
“Yeah, sure. He’s the top-seeded race-car driver in America. In the world.”
“And this makes him able to enter any apartment he wishes?”
“He was your friend. I did him a favor.”
“He’s not my friend.”
“Right,” Chase agreed. “I’m just supposed to seduce her. That’s all.”
Jamie winced. “About that…”
Chase moved over to the couch. It was a normal couch, but when he sat down it looked very small. She’d gotten it at an estate sale four years ago, along with the matching wing chair. She’d had them reupholstered in a cheery floral print, which Chase’s presence also changed. She’d never realized the material was so feminine.
“About last night—” she continued.
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“What? I wasn’t going to.”
“Oh, okay.” He smiled at her, and his teeth were slightly crooked, which for some reason made him even sexier. His eyes were perfect and so was his hair and his chest. The fact that his nose was a little crooked didn’t detract from his face. On the contrary, like the small flaw of his teeth, it made him look more ruggedly handsome than if it had been straight.
“What do you mean, apologize?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does.”
“I just figured, with you being in that bind and with me volunteering to help you out…”
“I wasn’t the one who asked you to play this game. That was Whittaker, remember?”
He nodded. “She would have done it, you know.”
“Done what?”
“She would have smeared your reputation, made sure there was plenty of bad press about you. She doesn’t much care for you.”
Jamie’s hands fell to her sides. “Why? I never did anything to her.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t get it. You’re too smart to play dumb.”
“Oh, you think she hates me because I’m successful? Because people listen to me?”
“That. And the other.”
She wasn’t about to ask what he meant. This whole conversation was going poorly, and the smart thing to do would be to stop right here, right now, and get Chase and his number-one fan the hell out of here.
She put her hands on her hips and opened her mouth to tell him to leave, but before the words came out, his gaze moved from her face to her chest. As he blatantly stared, his face changed. He smiled. Devilish, wicked, hungry. She felt her nipples harden and poke at her flimsy T-shirt.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice low