Page 2 of The CEO Enemy

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he demands, eyes narrowed.

Crap. Why am I here again?

Right, I’m locked out. “Um, sorry to bother you, but, um, I locked myself out of my apartment,” I say, gesturing toward my door and the blueberry pancakes I ordered. As I speak, I realize how difficult it is to have a regular conversation when you’ve just caught an eyeful of all that.

“Well,” he huffs, “unless you slipped a spare key under my door when I wasn’t looking, then I’m not sure how I can help you.” He arches an angry-looking brow.

“Er…do you maybe want to put clothes on?”

“I’d rather close the door if you don’t actually need help,” he grumbles, already in the process of swinging it shut.

“Wait! Please don’t! I really do need your help.”

I manage to keep my gaze trained on his, mind still reeling. He’s a stranger who’s incredibly pissed off that I’m bothering him. I better be quick. Also, my pancakes are getting cold, so I really need to get back inside my place.

“So, Ms. Lockout Queen, do you need me to call the super or something?” he asks, scrutinizing me the whole time.

What a jerk. “No, thanks.” Mr. Grumpy King, I think, but I don’t say it. “Actually, our balconies are right next to each other. I was wondering if you would let me in so I could climb over.”

“No.”

I blink a few times. “I’m sorry?”

“I said no.”

“It will only take a second.” A glop of yogurt starts to slowly slide down my forehead. Oh no, not now, please not now! I silently plead with it to stick to my eyebrow. He won’t let me in if I start dripping yogurt everywhere.

“It doesn’t matter.”

All right. I understand that I barged into this grump’s morning while he was obviously indisposed, and he has every right to be annoyed that this random chick yelled that she needed help, then ogled his man-berries. That’s on me for panicking and not keeping my eyes firmly locked on his face. However, he doesn’t have to be an absolute chump-head about it. Lottie had understated this guy’s irritability. I crown him the Emperor Extraordinaire of Grumps, the undisputed grumpiness monarch.

“Look, I’m sorry we started off on the wrong foot,” I say, trying to take the high road, while casually flicking at my eyebrow, ensuring the gooey disaster stays put. I’m not going to get anywhere with this guy if he’s pissed off at me. I gesture to his nakedness and then to my towel. “Clearly, neither of us had our ‘social batteries’ charged for this early-morning rendezvous. But I promise, it really will only take a second for me to hop over to my place. Then I’ll leave you alone.”

He gives me a stern look. “Climbing between balconies is reckless and unsafe.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“And if you’re not? I’m not going to be held responsible if something happens to you.”

“Fine,” I say, attempting to keep the exasperation from my tone. “If I promise not to sue you if I get hurt, then will you let me in?”

He studies me for a moment, and it’s hard to get a read on him. His expression holds nothing but annoyance, though I’m hopeful I’ve gotten through to him, considering he hasn’t slammed the door in my face yet. I offer him a bright smile.

There’s a moment’s pause before he mutters something under his breath and steps to the side. “Fine. Come in.”

Thank God! I want to do a little happy dance, but well, I’m trying not to lose my towel.

Before entering his apartment, I grab my food delivery and give my towel an extra little tuck for good measure. As soon as I take that first step inside, plop goes the yogurt—not this again, and OMG—I catch it just in time. Then, discreetly as possible, I wipe it on my towel. I don’t think he noticed.

Crisis averted… for now. I’m in!

The place looks minimalistic. Sleek. Somehow bachelor-esque with all the black furniture and monochrome artwork. I spot a black helmet. He rides a motorcycle? Hot!

At once, I realize he was exercising. I notice his treadmill and weights near the balcony, and there’s a pile of workout clothes on the floor. He must have been on his way to the shower when I knocked. I should have known he works out. With that body, it’s safe to say he’s not the “lounge around all day” type.

“Just a second,” he mutters, storming down the hall, and that’s when I catch a glimpse of his other side, and oh, boy, it’s just as appealing as the first. I’m pretty sure I could bounce a quarter off his ass if I had the chance.

Awkwardly, I stay put, switching my weight from one foot to the other, playing with the paper bag in my hands. He returns wearing a simple pair of black boxer briefs. They cover his assets, but honestly, the outline still makes quite the statement.

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