Seduction’s Canvas (Crimson Romance) (3 page)

“I’m Mark Thorn, your new neighbor.”

Sam blinked as her mother’s words about the new neighbor came back to her in a rush. It couldn’t be. But with her luck, of course it could. She licked at her suddenly dry lips and watched, dumbfounded, as the granite-like Mark — no longer her mystery, silent rider — Thorn spread his full mouth sheepishly wide and gave her a warm, yet shy and, oh hell, oh so wicked grin.

Sam fought to throw a net over the suddenly out of control butterflies going berserk in her stomach, shook her head with resignation, and stepped forward into the corridor.

Just freaking perfect. From the devil you knew to the new one across the hall, all in ten minutes flat.

• • •

Mark watched, amused, as Samara Leighton’s face went through a myriad of emotions. Sure, she tried her best to cover them up with her cool mask of composure, but he still caught it. It was all there behind her expressive brown eyes. The shock, the embarrassment, and then the cool detachment that had those eyes going glacier all over again. No, he wasn’t fooled. She might have donned that mask quickly but he saw all. Caught her surprise and before that, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. A spark, small, but still, a spark.

He paused and let his mind roll over the spark for a moment before dismissing it with a click to his brain. Who was he fooling? She was probably just wondering if he was some thug about to steal her purse. Another rich girl playing at slumming it in a downtown address that was supposed to be all industrial, but if you squinted, had all the bells and whistles of a Park Avenue condo, just muddied up a bit and a little color added in for flavor.

Samara Leighton stepped ahead of him, but then quickly turned around, probably watching her back. He inwardly grinned. Mark couldn’t fault her for that. Hell, he could respect it.

“So what brings you up here from the ground floor?” she asked, a slight frown crossing her brows as he knew she became instantly aware of her mistake. Yeah, she had been watching him and she knew where he lived or used to live.

Mark fought to bite back on his first and more immediate primal response, which, if he let the truth be told, he’d say was probably following the damned alluring scent of hers, clear up to the top floor, like a dog in heat, but no, he couldn’t do that. Better to keep things polite. A woman like her would only respond to the more civilized type of chatter.

His eyes quickly swept over her, taking in her silky rosewood skin that had him itching for a touch, catching on those smoky almond eyes that reminded him of an endless lake at midnight, and finally stopping on her lips that, despite the way she tried her best to keep them firm, were still full and pouty and had that sweet indenting bow at the top that made him want to dip his head down and go happily off to heaven. He watched in rapt attention as those lips moved oh so sexily and she let out a frustrated huff. Yes, today she seemed to be every part the cool, rich, completely untouchable New York ice queen she was born and bred to be, in her tight, white, impeccably cut skirt and matching blazer that screamed you touch it, you dirty it, you bought it. And he sure as hell knew he couldn’t afford it. But that voice. That deep, throaty, old smoky, Hollywood voice, it was something that made a man stop and think before answering anything she said, no matter what she was wearing or how quick and smart he thought he wanted to be.

Mark’s eyes paused at the top of her blouse, noticing the way she defied the suit by wearing a nearly transparent black lacy camisole underneath which left little to the imagination. Around her neck, heavy links of sterling silver chains was her last bit of an FU to the polished look. Suddenly, he remembered that the top button of that skirt was still undone and got a tightening in his groin. She wanted out. Those clothes weren’t her. And he could just imagine being the one setting her free of them.

Besides, he’d grown used to seeing her ducking in and out of the building in her faded jeans or those odd overalls she insisted on wearing more days than not as she did her time as a not so starving artist living downtown. At times Mark thought they were just a quirky fad, but now that he was seeing her up close he once again questioned who the real Samara Leighton was. He also questioned his sanity. He must have been crazy, taking this apartment across from her. Opportunities be dammed, he should have turned tail and ran as soon as he saw that she lived in the same building as he did. But no, what did he go and do? The fool he was, he’d decided to play with fire and go and buy an apartment right across the hall from her. Grind that salt in even more.

“Well?” Her impatient tone brought him blinking back up to her sharp brown eyes.

He shrugged. “Maybe I’d had enough of slumming it down on one and I thought I’d see what the view was like from up top.” He softened a bit. “But in reality, maybe my rental lease was ending and this option to buy in the same building was just perfect timing.”

Samara raised a perfectly arched brow and then glanced down at the box he was holding. “So what, you’ve got all your belongings in that little box?”

He grinned. “You’re not so far off. But no, I’ve got a few more things. The essentials: couch, TV, bed, my bike.”

Sam crossed her arms and he watched as she let a slow breath out through her nose. “Yes, I’ve seen you on your bike.”

He grinned again and saw her brows crinkle into a frown. “And I’ve seen you seeing me. I noticed you getting out of that limo today. Sugar or a daddy?” He watched as the nostrils in her fine nose flared and her eyes gave him another spark of fire.

“You’re reckless.”

“Is that an answer to my question or something to do with the way I ride?”

“I’m not answering your question. I’m talking about how you ride. You almost ran over a woman leaving the building one day not that long ago.”

He felt heat rise up his neck. It was partially due to hearing the delicious Samara Leighton refer to his riding and partially because she was right. He shook his head. “Yeah, that was a bad day. You’re right — I should have been more careful. But I did apologize to her when I saw her again. I swear, I’m a perfectly safe driver. Safety’s my thing.”

It seemed like she was about to say something else, but he guessed his quick admission of guilt took her by surprise. Instead, she stepped off on her heel and started to walk again toward her apartment. He followed.

Stopping, she looked back at him and took a bold step forward, causing him to pull up breaks abruptly so as not to bump into her with the box. “How did you know who I was?”

It was his turn to raise brows. “Do you really think I’m going to take the apartment across from just anybody? You’ll be happy to know that the previous owners gave you a glowing recommendation. Besides, most people know who you are just by facial recognition. You’re not exactly anonymous in this town.”

She let out a little huff. “I’m not exactly a celebrity either.”

“Now you know as well as I, that definition is pretty flexible nowadays.”

To this he got a slight nod of agreement, but still she wasn’t fully bending. “And how would the old owners know about me? They were hardly ever here.”

Mark sidestepped her and put the box down in front of his door which, God help him, now that he looked at it again, really was directly across from hers. He stood again and noticed once again that damned intoxicating floral, but still slightly earthy sent coming from her pinned up soft brown hair. Was it lavender? In that moment all he wanted to do was lean in. Shit, this was nothing but trouble. He fought fingering the scar on his brow and just stared at her, not trusting anything else.

She challenged him with her own stare back. Damn, she was tall in those heels. Just about matching him eye for eye.

Mark loosened his stance. “You’re right. So why don’t you tell me yourself, Miss Leighton? Should I be worried? Is there something I should prepare myself for — loud parties, a barking dog … ” He licked his lips. “You barking in the middle of the night?”

She smiled then. A small quirk, the corners of her lips barely twitching. He braced himself. “I can see you’re going to be … interesting, Mr. Thorn.”

He felt his breath hitch. The way she said his name was like nothing he’d ever heard. All low and throaty and soothing. He wanted more than anything to lean over her, take those pouty lips in between his own, and swallow the words as they came out of her mouth. Pull back and make her say his name over and over again. Feast on it. Watch that gorgeous pink tongue play on the “th” as it ran across the inside of her upper teeth. It was like foreplay and he didn’t want it to stop.

But just then another switch clicked off in his head. A warning switch telling him to hit the shut off valve. He deadened his gaze. “No, I’m boring. About as far from interesting as you can get.”

It was then that the sweet lips went flat. She gave a small shrug of her shoulders and then turned for her door. Those sexy as hell, expensive, red bottomed heels pausing before turning back his way.

Oh, just go into your apartment already, woman.

But no, she spoke. “Just so you know, Mr. Thorn, you have my name and that’s all you need to know. I like my privacy. I pretty much keep to myself and I’d appreciate it if you did the same. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m kind of a solitary person.”

He nodded. “No problem, ma’am. I get that. We can all use our space.”

She gave him a terse nod and a large chunk of her pinned up hair fell forward across her eyes like a shield. His hands ached to reach out and move it, give him his view back. But he resisted, instead going for his keys as she went for hers.

They turned and unlocked their opposite doors at the same time.

“Welcome to the top floor, Mr. Thorn.”

He paused at her words as desire shot through him like a bullet. He turned back around. She had put out her hand for him to shake, plastered on a smile that could sell hand warmers in hell, and all irrational thought told him to reach out for her, take her hard against his body, and wipe all that cool haughtiness right off her perfect little face. Instead, he took her hand in his own, letting the brief moment of warmth wash over him while trying hard to ignore the current of electric energy that charged them both. “Thanks for the warm reception, Miss Leighton.”

• • •

Mark sat in the large leather recliner he had brought up from his old apartment and balanced his laptop on his knees. He gazed around the huge loft, wondering once again how he was going to fill the cavernous space. He’d really lucked out with this place opening up. Though it had all the luxuries, it was still just dirty enough with its concrete flooring and exposed brick, where you felt if you mucked it up, it wasn’t as if you burped in front of the Queen of England or something. But still, he marveled. Jeez, he’d moved up like crazy. Ray would shit himself if he saw him now. Living in downtown Manhattan, in an apartment with windows that curved up to the ceiling and beyond to let in the precious New York skyline, from his Bronx roots, it was almost unimaginable. Almost. But too bad he could and did imagine it and then some. Too bad it took so much pain and sacrifice to get it.

Mark shook his head to clear the cloud of anger that threatened to move in. No use letting it. He was here now and would make the best use if it. It’s what his mom had taught him and what Ray would expect.
Use what you got to get what you need.
That’s what Ray always said when he was still a hard-headed kid and needed some sense drilled into him. And it’s what had served him well as an adult. He thought for a moment to pick up the phone and call Vegas, just to hear a friendly voice. But then his conscience got the better of him and he let out a grunt as his stomach turned.

How could he talk to Ray and not let it slip who his new neighbor was? Ray, with his keen ears and intuition, would pick up on something in his voice. No, he couldn’t call right now. There was no way. As always, Ray would state the obvious and his words would fill him with doubt and potentially send him packing. “Step back, Thorn,” he’d probably say. “She’s not for you.” The same words that had echoed in his head for most of his life.

He let out a low and long breath. It was abundantly clear in her “What are you doing up here?” comment that she thought he was over stepping the line. Mark laughed to himself. Oh well, it’s not like it was the first time he’d met a line and then crossed it — nor would it be the last.

Turning, Mark now studied his new space. He envisioned a new utility table in the sunniest corner, which also led to the roof deck for his furniture workshop. He looked to the other end of the apartment and decided where he’d block out a little office space for his security business. Man cannot live on a hobby alone and though relaxing, his woodwork wasn’t paying any bills. Strangely enough, what paid the bills is what had almost cost him his life. Getting shot hadn’t been the end for him, but it was a wakeup call to live less recklessly and to have eyes in the front, back, and side of his head. Now with this new team of guys, he was ready to do that in a bigger and better way. His eyes roamed to his door once again. Who knows, maybe the prickly Miss Leighton could help him out there? He shook his head. No, she’d made it clear that she wanted her space. Besides, in no way was he ready to get tangled up in the Leighton web. They’d done his family enough harm as it was.

Mark frowned as his laptop came to life and he clicked over to his bank account. He’d come into a good amount of money from his work after Afghanistan, though it was literal blood money. But honestly, he was happy to pay the price. At least it now afforded him what he needed to cover his mother’s medical costs since her heart attack and have plenty more for his business. The thought had him once again shifting his mind to push back a cloud. Some would think being shot by one of his own men while working private security and coming this close to death would be number one on his dark list, but no, for him it was just one of the numbers. Easily, the darkest moment of his life was the one when he thought he’d lose his mom. Second was the vulnerable feeling of not being able to care for her properly due to the cost of her care. Well, never again. He’d vowed then and there to do whatever it took to care for her. And sure, he got a little reckless with his money making methods, but desperation will do that to you, and yeah, it cost him, but now it was worked out. He pushed the memory aside. Yeah, it had worked out just fine and to him it was well worth every drop of blood he’d lost.