High Rises are like large families where members face love, hate, meddling, and gossiping.
When the neighbor who was harassing her is found dead in the Jacuzzi, Alexa is a prime suspect. Can she count on her dear neighbors, including the delectable Italian, Dante, for help?
With too many skeletons in their own closets, would they save her or incriminate her?
Alexa couldn’t tumble into bed with him and later regret her bout of lust for months. But she wanted a night in Dante’s arms. A night of love, not of lust. She’d had her share of lust-without-feelings with her ex.
A banging interrupted her. Dante spun toward the bedroom door. “What’s that?”
She stiffened. “Damn it.”
“Someone’s at your door.”
“I’ll get it and be right back.” She checked herself in the mirror and smoothed her hair. Another knock on the door grated on her nerves.
“I bet it’s your ex.”
“Probably.” Her recent euphoria died as she remembered the turmoil brewing outside her little haven.
“You should tell him to stop barging in without an invitation.”
Why was Greg here, now? Couldn’t he ever let her enjoy a moment of happiness away from him? She wanted her moment. She wanted Dante. Why was she fighting her desire for the man of her dreams?
A quick look at him had her groaning. All male and handsome, he lusted for her and his scorching gaze promised to take her to heaven and back. “Please, hurry up. It’s not particularly exciting to imagine you with your ex.”
As if to confirm it, another knock pounded loudly. After closing her bedroom door, she rushed toward the living room.
“Coming,” she called between gritted teeth.
I hate you, Greg Partson.
Alexa skated to the front door and pulled it open while blocking the doorway.
“What took you so long?” The assessing gleam in Greg’s gray eyes turned suspicious as he peered above her shoulder and scanned the living room.
She frowned and mentally cursed her ex-husband’s lousy timing. Struggling to control her rising temper, she stabbed him with a stern look. “Why are you here?”
“I came to see if you were okay.” His voice oozed with saccharine sweetness. “And tell you—”
“I’m fine.” Damn it, she was fine a few minutes ago, but he’d spoiled her mood at the worst possible moment. She plastered on a perfunctory smile and held herself rooted to block the entrance, her hands gripping the door and its frame. “Get to the point.”
“I just came to tell you a detective will meet us at eight in the conference room.”
“I’ll be there.”
“He’ll interview the condo owners who saw the deceased recently.” Greg leaned forward and grabbed her shoulders. “Was Steve Bairey here last night or today?” His breath blasted with alcohol fumes.
Alexa almost gagged. She tilted her chin, refusing to lie but hating Greg’s distrust. They may have been divorced for three years now, but her domineering ex-husband granted himself the right to keep tabs on her personal life.
Dante was in her bedroom getting impatient.
Could she push Greg out? Physically push him out with her fists and all her strength? How had she been able to withstand five long years married to the autocratic sleaze ball? She hissed and tried to bang the door shut, but he blocked it with his foot.
“Alexa, answer me, damn it.” His bellow made her jump. “Did Steve come today?”
“For heaven’s sake, why all these questions?” She tapped her foot, ready to kick it into Greg’s leg. Was he dense or what? He arched a suspicious eyebrow. Understanding dawned on her. “Oh my God, you thought I could have done something to ki... kill him? Is that why you’re bombarding me with questions?” Alexa rubbed her neck to soothe the lump in her throat.
“Well, I remembered you saying once you wanted to kill him for stalking you.”