Dream Neighbour Read online

  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  Dream Neighbour

  ISBN # 978-1-78184-362-8

  ©Copyright Francesca St. Claire 2013

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright May 2013

  Edited by Rebecca Douglas

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.

  This story contains 33 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 8 pages.

  DREAM NEIGHBOUR

  Francesca St. Claire

  Samantha and Stephen Parker meet because of a wrong mail delivery. She falls instantly in lust with him, but will her desire make her forget her self-imposed rule to never date a neighbour again?

  Magazine editor Samantha Parker meets her new neighbour Stephen Parker over a wrong mail delivery. The attraction is fast and strong, the desire to taste his sexy mouth fierce. But a previous bad experience with a neighbour prevents her from acting upon her urges. The question is, for how long?

  As soon as their eyes meet Stephen Parker is hooked. Determined to take what he desires—his stunning new neighbour—he won’t give up on his plans even though she flatly refuses his invitation for homemade pasta. But there is always a next time and Stephen doesn’t quit easily, he’ll just bide his time until another opportunity arises.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week: Mercedes-Benz USA, LLC

  Tony Awards: IBM Corp., Tony Award Productions

  Rabbit: Rampant Rabbit, Ann Summers Ltd.

  Barnes & Noble: Barnes & Noble, Inc.

  Starbucks: Starbucks Corporation

  Chelsea Piers: Chelsea Piers

  Rock & Snow: Rock & Snow

  Prius: Toyota Motor Corporation

  Chapter One

  Running a bit late for work, I crossed the entrance hall of my apartment building at a fast pace. Stilettos clicking against the tiled floor, trench coat flapping, I lengthened my stride before I came to a halt in front of the concierge’s desk and greeted him with a cheerful good morning. I then handed him the letters I held in my hand.

  He flicked a glance over the envelopes then back at me. “Is something the matter with these letters, Miss Parker?”

  “Yes,” I said, putting a trace of an apology into my smile. “I’ve opened them and they’re not for me, though I’m the only S Parker in the building.”

  Understanding flashed across the old concierge’s eyes. “They must be for the new tenant in seven A, then, Mr Stephen… Oh, Mr Parker!”

  Half turning, I followed the concierge’s gaze and came face to face with a drop-dead gorgeous guy with a pair of beautiful blue eyes. Hello, neighbour!

  “Did I hear my name?”

  Nice voice. Friendly tone.

  “Mr Parker, good morning, sir, there’s been some confusion with yesterday’s mail,” the concierge started to explain while Stephen Parker stared at me with frank interest. “It seems your mail ended up in Miss Parker’s mailbox.”

  “Is that right?” he asked, looking at the envelopes being handed to him, then back to me, his eyebrow lifting.

  I flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry—” The spark of amusement in his eyes stopped me in mid-sentence.

  “Reading a neighbour’s mail is a serious offence, Miss Parker. I’ll have to think of a suitable punishment.”

  The quirk of his lips made my pulse skitter. The thought of a suitable punishment sent ripples of arousal racing through me.

  “First offences don’t count,” I said, tongue in cheek.

  “Offenders don’t usually make the rules…” His gaze dropped to my mouth and lingered. “But in good neighbourly spirit, I’ll be lenient this time.” He smiled and I noticed the two shallow dimples on both sides of his mouth.

  Sexy!

  Someone had to get this conversation back on track, and it might as well be me. Stephen Parker didn’t look particularly bothered by the concierge’s presence as he blatantly flirted with me.

  I held out my hand. “Samantha Parker.”

  He took it and the heat of his palm and strength of his grip radiated through me, hardening my nipples as if he’d stroked them. Heart pounding and cheeks flushed, I took a closer look at his eyes. I hadn’t been mistaken about them. They were gorgeous—bright blue with thick, dark lashes.

  “Stephen Parker, but you already know that,” he said, winking.

  Words failed me. If I didn’t leave now, it was only a matter of time before my thoughts would venture further into fantasy and I would ask him up for a drink later. I decided it was time to go—I was already very late. “Goodbye, Stephen, I hope you’ll enjoy your new place. It was nice meeting you.”

  “And you.”

  I slipped past him, the rapid thud of my heart matching the tapping of my heels on the tiled floor.

  * * * *

  A glance at the alarm clock by the side of the bed confirmed what I already knew—I was late. Again.

  Damn! Twice in one week.

  I’d still be on time for my first meeting of the day, but it meant I’d miss my coveted solitary half hour reading e-mails and drinking my morning latte. I’d be glad when the month’s issue was put to bed and I could finally relax and get a full night’s sleep.

  It had been a crazy week with all the Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week shows and parties, on top of the usual deadline rush. But the next magazine edition was ready to go to press, freeing the weekend for…

  Stephen Parker. If only!

  I jumped out of bed and padded to the bathroom—a modern, luxurious room where I spent a considerable amount of time every day. I had created a room for relaxation—accenting it with fluffy towels, scented soaps and candles—and for an energy boost at the start of the day I’d added a power shower and piped in music.

  After my morning ritual I carefully chose an over-the-knee skirt in various shades of green and brown and a pastel-green silk blouse and cardigan. I finished the slick look with a pair of brown booties and chunky jewellery. Then, armed with briefcase and bag, I draped a cashmere coat over my arm and stepped out of my apartment and into the elevator.

  A glance in the elevator’s mirror revealed a twisted stocking. I mumbled a curse and, reversing the movements of a few minutes before, I put down my bag, briefcase and coat, then hitched the skirt up to mid-thigh. Just then the elevator doors opened. Stephen Parker stood staring at my leg for what seemed an eternity.

  Damn! Of all the people living in the building it had to be h
im who’d caught me with my ass in the air and my skirt halfway up my thigh. I dropped my hand and straightened, smiling warmly and trying to disguise the awkwardness I felt. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” he said, stepping into the elevator, his smile a slow, sexy stretch of the lips. “Got a wardrobe malfunction?” he teased, his gaze sliding over me as delicately as a touch. “How can I help?”

  I looked at his face, taking in his amusement, then shook my head. My inverted bob swished around my face. “All sorted, thank you.”

  I leaned over to grab my coat but jumped when his hand touched mine. “Allow me,” he offered, taking it and helping me put it on. His hands stayed on my shoulders longer than needed, and the heat seeping through the fabric raised my body temperature a few degrees.

  “Thank you.”

  He picked up my briefcase and bag then handed them to me, smiling. “My pleasure.” His gaze dropped to my lips and heat rose to my breasts, neck and cheeks. The sexual tension within the four walls deepened, and I realised two things—he was about to kiss me and I was going to let him. Not that I had any choice in the matter, the raw magnetism between us made me hopeless at playing hard to get. My nipples tingled with longing. I would combust right there in the elevator if he kissed me. I shuddered as a bolt of lust crackled through me. Suddenly his phone rang, the elevator bell dinged and the doors opened onto the lobby.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  Stephen hung back to let me exit first, his sorrowful shrug a poor consolation for being deprived of a highly anticipated, bad-ass kiss.

  * * * *

  Staring out of my office window at the brilliant blue sky, daydreaming of a pair of eyes the same shade of blue, I wondered what would have happened if we’d kissed that morning in the elevator. Chances were I would never know. It had been five days since our elevator encounter and I hadn’t seen or heard from him in that many days.

  It was probably for the best—dating a neighbour wasn’t such a good idea to begin with, not that that decision had stopped me from thinking of him. It hadn’t, at all. In fact, just the thought of him did things to my libido that I hadn’t felt before. Mental images of my bright-blue eyed neighbour making love to me shot heat pumping through my veins every time, reducing me to a quivering, needy state.

  Even if I was dead set on not dating a neighbour, the fact that there had been no further contact annoyed me. We could still be friends, though it was difficult to imagine all the flirting exchanged on our previous meetings going to waste on a friendship. Nevertheless…he could still contact me, it was only Tuesday. Any normal, single adult would have had the weekend booked in advance. Emphasis on normal, which I wasn’t. Because, really, what twenty-nine-year-old, single woman would have stayed home on a Saturday night doing laundry and having sex with a battery operated boyfriend?

  I had to take back control of my life. Quickly.

  “Hey, are you in there? You look like you’re someplace very far way.”

  I turned to find my assistant hesitating in the doorway. A glance at my watch confirmed it was already after six. “Just thinking.”

  Hannah shifted her weight to one leg and cocked her head, smiling. “Well, if you don’t need me I’m leaving.” Her smile widened. “Zack is taking me out tonight.”

  Zack worked in the security department. Hannah had been crazy about him for months, but in spite of all her efforts he’d remained aloof, until she’d finally admitted to herself and to me that he probably wasn’t that interested in her. Then, out of the blue, he’d invited her for a drink and they’d been out a couple more times since. Hannah was over the moon, a dreamy smile permanently plastered on her face. Cute, but another reminder of how dull my love life had become.

  “Lucky you.”

  It was pretty pathetic, but just then I felt envious of my young assistant. I needed to get a life. Soon. Six o’clock and I had no date for tonight, or any other night in the foreseeable future. I’d been out four nights out of the past week at multiple fashion parties, but not one of the single straight men I’d met there had raised my pulse rate. On the other hand, Stephen Parker…that was another matter altogether.

  I shooed her away with my hands. “Go, go, have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.” She turned to leave, but spun back to face me. “I almost forgot. A Stephen Parker called while you were on the phone to say he’ll be home tonight. If you’re interested in joining him for homemade pasta, call him. He’s left his number.” She smiled mischievously. “And he said to tell you stockings are optional.”

  Chapter Two

  I had to call him. I had an excuse to hear his voice again—a deep, resonating, awesome voice that went straight to my gut. It was something I just had to do. As for accepting his dinner invitation…well, I wanted to. Badly. But according to numerous magazine articles—some even published by me—written by so-called experts, dating one’s neighbour could lead to a whole lot of drama, and at twenty-nine I no longer craved an adrenaline rush like I once had.

  Liar.

  I dialled the number and on the second ring Stephen answered with a warm, “Hello?”

  I tried to sound calm in spite of the butterflies in my stomach. “Hi, it’s Samantha…your neighbour?”

  “The one with the wardrobe malfunction?” he slid in swiftly.

  Longing surged through me, all the more intense for months of self-denial, and I shivered unexpectedly. “I knew you wouldn’t let me forget that episode.”

  “And let’s not leave out the opening the mail issue…”

  I chuckled, amused. “I really made an impression on you, huh?”

  “You have no idea,” he answered, his voice lowering a few decibels.

  The rush of heat to the nape of my neck was perfectly ridiculous. I was no longer a giddy schoolgirl with my first crush, but that didn’t stop me from wanting him. Needing him.

  “Did you have a good day?” Stephen asked, changing the subject. I began breathing easier, though I tried to ignore how disappointed I was that he hadn’t pursued the seductive talk.

  “Not bad, quite productive actually…” I checked myself before embarking on details. I tended to get carried away talking about my work, and he was probably just being polite.

  “And?”

  Oh well, if he insists. “Actually I had a very good day. I got this year’s Tony Award winner, for Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role in a play to agree to an exclusive interview with me,” I said, with a substantial degree of pride.

  “Congratulations,” he said readily. “I bet it wasn’t easy. I imagine everybody wanted that same interview.”

  He sounded so pleased for me, my good opinion of him bumped up a couple more notches. I pictured the warmth in his gorgeous blue eyes, his angled jaw and dimpled cheeks responsible for many of my hot dreams since first meeting him. Heat began to flare up in the lower part of my body. Easy girl.

  “Thanks. It took some doing but hey, all in a day’s work, right?”

  “I think you might be underestimating your achievement, but I can’t be sure.” He paused, and my heart knocked against my ribs as I sensed the significance of his next words. “At what time are you leaving work today?”

  Oh boy, here we go. The moment of truth. “Shortly. After I hang up with you.”

  “If that means I’ll see you soon, I’m hanging up right now,” he said without the slightest hesitation.

  Oh, I wanted to agree to meet him, to forget all my objections and live out every fantasy he’d awakened in me. A shiver of pure liquid lust shot through me. I shifted in my seat. Shit, shit, shit. Would it be so bad to just let go and forget the consequences? Why did I have to be so cerebral, why couldn’t I go with my gut feeling…even if that feeling was centred a little lower than my gut?

  Make up your mind, make up your mind, make up your mind.

  In a moment! This was important. Although I’d had no problem with casual sex in the past, I did now. Besides, I’d never been very
good at one-night stands, because even when I knew we were just being buddies, at the end of the day I still hadn’t been able to help feeling rejected, wanting them to love me. This would be even worse if the one-night stand happened to be a neighbour, whom I crossed paths with almost daily. This situation would be very awkward—possibly even disastrous.

  Just like Mom…

  Yeah, just like Mom all over again. A date with a gorgeous, friendly neighbour gone bad had forced us to move across town and leave all my friends behind.

  Twelve and miserable, I’d watched my parents get divorced. I’d gone through the pain of separation when my father ditched us for a new wife. I’d helplessly witnessed the devastation he’d left behind. But a year later, a new neighbour had come into our lives. For a brief moment, he’d made it all better for my mother and me. He’d brought the smile back to her face and hope of a new beginning. He’d been charming, amusing and generous. Great fun to be with. He was the perfect date for my mom and the ideal neighbour to us. Then one day my mother had found out he’d been in jail for domestic abuse, and she’d immediately broken up with him. And that’s when all the trouble had begun. An absolute nightmare. Verbal abuse had rapidly escalated to stalking, and ultimately to violent threats. After tremendous heartache, we’d been forced to leave the home we loved, the neighbourhood we cherished, the school I knew and friends I adored.

  It had been the end of life as I knew it.

  Besides my tragic experience, which had discouraged me until now from going on a date with a neighbour, making myself available too soon to Stephen Parker could hinder any real chance of a future relationship.

  What?

  Well, why not hope for romance? If a one-night stand was all I was after, there was no need to jeopardise good neighbourly relations—there were plenty of men in town who would be glad to oblige. No, a one-night stand was not what I was after. Besides, there was yet another reason to put Stephen on hold…I was leaving for Cancun in a few days. There was no point in going on a date now when I wouldn’t see him again for ten days. On the other hand, if our date flopped, a buffer of a week and a half before having to face him again would certainly help. Oh crap, crap, crap!