Page 2 of Playing With His Heart

“Who the hell is calling me in the middle of the night?” He’d had a ridiculously dreadful day and a message on his home phone couldn’t be anything good. “I don’t need more shit; can’t I just go to bed?”

He laid his keys and cell on the kitchen counter and only wanted to walk down the hall toward his bedroom. Instead, and against his better judgment, he clicked the play button on his answering machine.

“That better not be Jerry or I’m firing his ass first thing tomorrow. He knows better than to call me this late.”

Jerry McDonald was his personal assistant—had been for the better part of five years and he really wouldn’t trade him. Zayn had found out the hard way that women were much more drama as secretaries than men. He started to walk away, kicking off his shoes, but stopped short of dropping onto his couch when a voice from heaven echoed through his living room.

“That’s definitely not Jerry.” Zayn stumbled quickly back to the age-old talking machine and hit rewind.

Because of the time, he’d only assumed he knew who the message was from because he didn’t give his home number to anyone, ever. Even his parents only called him on his cell. Not even his assistant used his house phone. The front desk was the only one who did, and usually just to announce guests.

He wasn’t too proud to admit he was wrong, but his assistant didn’t have to know he’d directed the blame his way—so no harm, no foul.

When the voice started talking again, he grabbed a pencil and scribbled down her address and phone number, then played the message back again just to hear her voice.

“Terrace Gardens. I should have sold that damn place a long time ago.”

It was a rundown apartment complex that would be too costly to repair on a building-wide scale. What it needed was to leveling and to have a new complex built in its place, but he’d promised some of its older tenants he wouldn’t. It was the only home they knew, and it even held a few memories for him.

“Jenna Perkins. That’s a nice name.”

But he didn’t recognize it. For good reason, though. He distanced himself from any of his tenants. That’s why he had a building manager, but after hearing her comments, he might need to do some investigating into good old Frank. His dad had been the super before him, so it was just a natural progression and easier than going through the drama of looking for someone else. He couldn’t have the man harassing his tenants though—unfortunately, he would have to remedy that very soon.

“I’ll just call Jerry on the way to work and have him find a suitable technician to get the air conditioning working first, then tackle the Frank problem.”

He felt bad that he put a lot on Jerry’s shoulders, but he did because he was reliable and accountable. Zayn shouldn’t wait to get that repairman, and he hated to call his assistant with it being so late. He would just Google for numbers and handle it himself. He wasn’t helpless by a long shot—hell, he could fix the unit himself, but it’d been a while since he’d done that kind of work.

Zayn also wondered if he should return a call to Jenna, but it was after two in the morning and while she didn’t have air, he really hoped she could sleep. Nights like tonight were miserable, and with how that message sounded, he’d hate to take a chance and wake her if she drifted off.

After an extensive search in the general area for heating and cooling companies, along with reading the reviews, Zayn wrote the information down to call in the morning. He needed to go to bed—not that he’d get much sleep. Sometimes, he hated being the boss. Just once he’d like to play hookie. He could get Jerry to move around his morning commitments and go with the technician to the Terrace Gardens. That would also give him an opportunity to make a surprise visit to Frank.

Before Zayn left the kitchen, he played the answering machine message back one more time, just to hear her voice. Even with the not-so-subtle tones of anger, it was seductive as hell—the thought was inappropriate on his part. He didn’t even know the woman.

“It’s cold shower time.”

Fishing his wallet from his back pocket and placing it with his keys and cell, Zayn stripped off his clothes as he walked down the hall, leaving each piece where it fell. When he stepped into the bathroom, he turned on the water, making sure it was ice cold. It was the only way he could think to tamp down his misplaced desire for a woman he didn’t even know and had never seen.

Living like a recluse sounded better and better.

Chapter Two

Jenna lay in bed listening to her alarm ring. She was just too tired to turn it off—hadn’t slept a wink all night. She had to get moving, though. Her job wasn’t something she was willing to lose just because her apartment didn’t have any air. It would have been nice to get a call back from the building owner, but who was she kidding? Realistically, she didn’t expect it. It was probably only a financial investment for him, nothing more.

“Whatever.”

She rolled from the damp sheets, grabbed a towel from the linen closet in the hall outside of her bedroom, and started the shower, leaving it on cold. At least she could enjoy a small amount of relief, even if it was only for a few minutes.

She stood in the shower with the curtain open and the towel wrapped around her, the steam visibly lifting away thanks to the warm air hitting her cool skin. Today, she was excited to go to work because her office had central air. One of the perks of having a desk job. There was no way she would ever handle a physical job outside in the heat every day.

With not much time left, Jenna locked the handle of her front door and closed it. She took the stairs down to the lobby because the elevator opened right in front of Frank’s office and that was one creeper she wanted to avoid like the plague. Hopefully, his avoidance of her air conditioning problem would get him fired. Free from the building, she relaxed as she walked the few hundred feet toward the bus stop.

“It’s probably just wishful thinking, and it’s not like I’ll hear from the building owner anyway, which really makes me mad.”

She had no confidence that he would return her call. Why would he care? That’s why buildings had maintenance men. Who knows if he even got her message? One of his blond bimbo secretaries probably hit delete when she heard Jenna’s voice. He lived in his upscale high rise, pocketed all his money, and got to avoid all the rough stuff that went with life.

She really disliked those kinds of stuck-up people.

A city bus ride and a couple blocks later, Jenna arrived at her office. It was a dream job to everyone that worked around her but being the senior editor of a big-name publisher in Chicago was only a start for her. She had already set her goal of being editor-in-chief within five years. Miriam Worthington was a great person—good to her employees, and she’d taught Jenna a lot over the last couple years. No offense to her, because it was a terrific opportunity and a foot in the door, but shewouldhave her dream job by the end of those five years.

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