Strange Neighbors (2 page)

   As he watched his stunning new tenant wave goodbye to her family, he congratulated himself on offering to stay and help her arrange the large pieces of furniture. Hot didn't begin to describe her. Now he could steal some time alone with her.

   She looked so different from the rest of her family. Her father had a Scottish look, as you'd expect in a MacKenzie. He was strongly made and his graying hair looked as if it could have been reddish-blond at one time. He and his sandy-haired son possessed ruddy but fair skin and blue eyes.

   According to her paperwork, his new tenant's name was Merry MacKenzie, but she couldn't look less like a Scot. Her dark hair, brown bedroom eyes, and full lips, plus her perfectly smooth, glowing dark skin gave her an exotic Mediterranean air. Or maybe Brazilian. God, she made his jeans tight!

   "So, where do you want this gigantic sofa?"

   She chuckled. "It is kind of a monstrosity, isn't it?"

   "No, I didn't mean…"

   "That's okay. It's only temporary stuff. I took some

castoffs from our family room and hit a few yard sales, but as soon as I can, I'll replace it with smaller furniture."

   "No… I, uh…" Why am I suddenly a knucklehead around her?

   He had been trained for the limelight for years, so why should he suddenly fall apart in the presence of a pretty girl? Tons of women threw themselves at him on a regular basis. Maybe that's why he reacted to this one differently. He wasn't Jason Falco—star pitcher and reluctant celebrity. He was just Jason, single landlord with a hard-on for his new tenant.

   "Look, I didn't mean to insult your furniture, honest. I like it better than mine. I just had some hoity-toity designer decorate my place and it looks like it belongs in a magazine, not someplace where people actually live. This looks awfully comfortable." He illustrated his point by soaring over the arm of the couch and landing on his back on the squishy cushions. He couldn't help the "Ahhh…" that escaped his mouth. He hadn't been able to lounge comfortably for days.

   She just grinned at him and didn't say anything.

   You're an idiot, Falco. A babbling, bumbling idiot.

   Slowly, he rose from his comfortable position and said, "Let's start over." He held out his hand and said, "Hi. I'm Jason Falco, your new landlord. And you must be…"

   "Merry MacKenzie," she said, shaking his hand.

   "What a charming name."

   She rolled her eyes. "It wouldn't have been my choice. I share my name with a hobbit."

   He chuckled. "Do you have a nickname you'd prefer?"

   "No. Just Merry. One of my professors tried to call

me Mac once, but it didn't stick. Thank God for that, because everyone calls my father Mac."

   "Well, at least I know what to call him if I see him again. I should have introduced myself. I don't know where my head is at today."

   He did know what his little head was thinking ever since he'd laid eyes on the beautiful brunette with the cutest, open white smile he'd ever seen.

   "No." Merry shook her head. "I should have introduced them and myself since everyone apparently knew who you were. Well, everyone but me. Sorry about that."

   He gave her an earnest smile. "Don't be sorry. It's a relief not to be recognized." Sort of. Now what can I do to impress her?

   "In that case, I apologize for my fan-boy brother. It's weird, but even though he has Attention Deficit Disorder, he can remember all kinds of trivia about things that interest him, like sports." Then she covered her mouth and giggled as her cheeks took on a rosy blush. "Oh, sorry. No offense. I didn't mean to call professional sports trivial."

   "None taken." Granted, it's not like saving lives. "So, where do you want to do… Um, I mean, where do you want this?"

   "How about over there?" She pointed to the longest wall.

   "Okay. So do you have a couple of drop cloths or a newspaper or anything? I can stick something smooth under the legs and push it myself without scratching your floors."

   She chuckled. "They're your floors, I believe. And, yeah, I'm sure I can find something." She pulled the tape off a box marked Kitchen and rummaged through it until she fished out a couple of pot holders fashioned of stretchy, colored strips—the kind a child probably crafted. "This should help."

   "Perfect." He held up his hands as if they were playing catch. She simply walked over beside him and dropped one beside each leg of the couch. "Can you lift it a little? I'll push it under."

   "Oh, sure." Boy, did he feel out of his element with this unimpressed woman. He hoped she didn't think of him as a dumb jock.

   By the time her major furniture had been placed and set up, he had expended some physical energy and released most of his tension.

   I wonder if she has a serious boyfriend? "So, would you like to come up to my place and see what I mean about uncomfortable, hoity-toity furniture?"

   "I would, but I'm exhausted. Maybe another time?"

   "Sure. Of course. How about tomorrow night? I could make you a welcome-to-your-new-home dinner, unless you already have plans…"

   "I'd love that, believe me, but I have to work." She shook her head.

   Crap. You're striking out, Falco. "That's too bad. You're a nurse, right?"

   "Yeah. I work at Boston General on the evening shift."

   "That must not be very convenient for a night life." C'mon, sweetheart. Give me a hint. I'm dying over here.

   "Tell me about it. I can't wait to have some kind of life now that I'm out from under my father's thumb. In case you couldn't tell, he's a little overprotective." She laughed. "Actually, he's a lot overprotective."

   Jason chuckled. "He just seemed like a nice, caring father."

   "He behaved himself in front of you. If I don't call him tomorrow, he'll be all over my case and chew me out like I skipped school. I don't usually tell people this right off the bat, but we lost my mother when I was sixteen. She had just stepped out for a carton of milk and happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was second degree murder, but the guy got off with manslaughter. Ever since then, he's barely let me out of his sight."

   "I'm so sorry." Jason could relate to a hovering, smothering father. His dad had attended every game and as many practices as he could from Little League on. Jason suspected it had more to do with checking up on his athletic prowess and making sure the family "condition" remained a well-guarded secret than offering moral support.

   Damn. He caught himself just staring at her. She had the softest looking skin and he wanted to reach out and caress her cheek. Later, Falco. Don't blow it—even if it's much later. And he hoped it wouldn't be. He desperately wanted what everyone else had—a loving family. And he had until Spring Training to find the one or give it up for another long, lonely year.

Chad the ghost drifted up from apartment 3A and settled in to haunt his new landlord for the evening.

   Jason was back in his pristine penthouse apartment, pacing and mumbling to himself.

   "I can't believe I got shot down," he grumbled. "The first time in years a girl has said no to a date with me—and I even offered to cook! That usually crumbles even the most reluctant woman. I probably just asked her at a bad time. She seemed tired. More like exhausted. She had unpacking to do… Damn it, why am I making excuses for her? She said no to me!"

   Sighing, he halted and let his eyes roam over his showroom penthouse. "I hate this place. It feels like some billionaire's mansion—a chick billionaire! And I probably put the rotten designer on the road to fame and fortune by giving her free reign."

   Chad grimaced. I knew he'd regret that.

   Jason suddenly shivered as chills ran up his spine.

   Easy, man. I didn't mean to give you the willies by actually touching you, but I like to mock people by pacing right behind them. I didn't know you were going to stop so suddenly. Maybe you should save this crap for your therapist. Don't all rich people have a therapist?

   "Now what? I hate to confront people. I'd rather just donate the whole pile to charity and go shopping for myself. Hmm. Since it's off-season and I have a little time to myself, I could ask Merry to go shopping with me to help pick out new furniture. It would give me an excuse to see her again. Damn, I'd like to shop downstairs in Apartment 1B. I keep thinking about that comfortable couch in Merry's apartment—and how I'd love to be straddled on it."

   Chad grinned. Ah, now we're finally getting to the good stuff! Lay it on me, brother.

   Jason grabbed the cordless telephone and dialed a long number he knew by heart.

   "Hi, Mom. Yeah, it's been a while. How are things back in good ol' Minnesota?"

   After a short pause, he said, "I need to vent. I met a girl. A friendly girl who didn't throw herself at me and didn't even know who I was."

   He scratched his head. "Yeah, it's rare and weirdly refreshing. But she shot me down. I'm used to women wanting me—well, almost used to it, but it's probably just for my money or so they can brag about doing a professional athlete." He chuckled. "Sorry, Mom."

   Chad gave an exaggerated sigh. Oh, you poor baby. I'd have given my left nut to be in your position when I was alive and horny.

   Jason sighed and lowered himself onto the low armless chair. "I'm getting used to being used, and now I've become another kind of player. All of this goes against my upbringing and values. You raised me better than that."

   Again, I feel for you, man. You're fuckin' breaking my heart.

   "You taught me to treat all women with respect. You drummed into my head that one-night stands aren't okay. But I've had a lot of those—more than I'd care to admit."

   Chad drifted to the ceiling and mimed bowing a stringed instrument. Oh, break out the violins. I think I need a tissue.

   "Dad suggested I ignore women altogether in order to concentrate on the sport. Actually, I want it all—the career and a special relationship—but I'm an athlete and meeting nice, normal women is tough."

   He leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. "Yeah, sure, I guess you're right. Someday when I least expect it…"

   Another long pause. "Hey, someday I'll have to do something else, but for now, I'm okay. If I have to, I can always sell the apartment building."

   Chad's ears pricked up at that. Why would he have to dump the apartment building? He could probably sell the rights to his life story for a million bucks. I, on the other hand, worked my tail off as a real writer and struggled to pay the rent—but I'm not bitter or anything. Snort.

   "I know, Ma. Thanks for listening. Have fun at bingo." Jason smiled. "I love you, too." He hung up, and went straight to his exercise room. Chad floated after him.

   I do hope he won't sell the building. I don't think I can stand any more changes. His aunt might ruin it for him, though. Even though her nephew is giving her husband a job and she should be grateful for that, she makes a habit of poking her nose into everyone's business.

   Jason squatted on the rubber floor and pumped out some furious push-ups.

   Chad hovered directly above him, pumping up and down with Jason's push-ups. This was fun—kind of like a workout but with no effort. In a way I do feel sorry for Jason… I get the feeling he's not really used to his aunt's ways, and he's worried about her itchy trigger finger. Not that she's going to shoot anybody—I don't think so, anyway. She's trigger happy on the telephone and has threatened to call the police for everything from a little noisy sex to a homeless person walking by.

   I hate to think what having cops at the building would do to Jason Falco. For one thing, it would put him in the newspaper and expose his whereabouts—his safe haven. Good-bye peace and quiet. Hello rabid fans. Chad chuckled sadly and drifted out the window.

On Merry's drive home from work the following night, she cursed her rotten luck. The real motivation behind her move to the big city was to meet cute guys and date—maybe even have s-e-x. In a bed! Something she had to go without for the most part while living under her father's roof and ever watchful eye. Backseat sex just didn't cut it anymore.

   Yesterday, the most incredible guy asked me out… and I had to work. Crap. Crap. Crap!

   It had been a crappy shift, too. They were already understaffed and the assistant head nurse called in sick. Thanks a pantload. That meant Merry had to give out the meds for the whole floor and that would make any new nurse neurotic. She hadn't even met the whole staff yet.

   What if she made a mistake? She needed this job to pay her rent. She needed to pay her rent to keep her apartment. She needed to live in her own apartment to have a life! Hopefully a cute intern or two would show up before she made a med error and was tossed out on her keester.

   Even a tiny taste of independence excited her like nothing else had in the last… how many years? Maybe since her training wheels had been removed. Just thinking about her quest ending in failure and retreating home to Rhode Island upset her enough to bring on an asthma attack.

   The motivation to leave wasn't all about dating. She needed a fresh start. She had been "that weird MacKenzie girl" ever since she was little. For some reason she could smell blood blocks away. It's why she became a nurse in the first place. It seemed only natural that she should take first aid courses.

   Merry's thoughts kept her thoroughly preoccupied as she parked her aging Volkswagen in the alley behind her building. Apparently none of the long-term residents owned a car, so she secured a free assigned parking space. Hooray!