The Man Upstairs. Pamela Bauer
“You are not a woman a man forgets.”
Quinn’s words echoed in Dena’s mind long after she’d returned to bed. Even in her half-asleep state she hadn’t missed the gleam of interest in his eye, although she wasn’t sure why it had been there. Not many men would find bed head and flannel pajamas a turn-on.
She could definitely see why some women found him attractive. With his physical attributes he could probably make any woman a little weak-kneed. Not that it mattered. If she was looking for romance—and she wasn’t—it wouldn’t be with him.
Someone like Quinn would be more work than the average guy. And she’d discovered a long time ago that that was what men were—work.
She closed her eyes and forced her thoughts to the advertising campaign she’d been assigned the day before. If she was going to lie awake in the middle of the night, she might as well think about something that would be of use to her. Quinn Sterling was not in her future. Soy nuts were. If she could think of a clever package for the honey-roasted product, she’d be one step closer to her goal.
As for the man who lived upstairs…it was unlikely she’d run into him again. She’d lived here for close to a month and had seen him only once. He was the kind of neighbor she wanted—out of sight and out of mind.
Dear Reader,
When I created the boardinghouse at 14 Valentine Place, I made a rule. No guys allowed. It was to be a residence of women, each with her own room, but with a shared kitchen where late-night conversations would always include food—preferably chocolate.
Leonie Donovan, the landlady I created in the first book of this series, agreed with me, which is why I put her in charge. When it came time to write the second book, however, I discovered that Leonie, like many fictional characters, has a mind of her own. In between stories she had gone ahead and remodeled the third floor of the boardinghouse, creating an apartment that—to my surprise—she leased to a man. I no longer had my house of women. A man had pushed his way in. I sensed trouble.
As it turns out, it was a good kind of trouble. You’ll see what I mean as you read Quinn and Dena’s story. If it weren’t for Leonie renovating the third floor, they wouldn’t have met.
If this is your first visit to 14 Valentine Place, I hope you’ll come back again. For those of you who’ve read the first book in this series and have written to ask about future stories, I’m pleased to report that my next book will be Krystal’s story.
I love hearing from readers. Feel free to write to me at Pamela Bauer, c/o MFW, P.O. Box 24107, Minneapolis, MN 55424, or you can visit me via the Internet at www.pamelabauer.com.
Sincerely,
Pamela Bauer
The Man Upstairs
Pamela Bauer
In loving memory of a very dear aunt,
Mabel Hayes
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
PROLOGUE
WHILE THE BAND TOOK a break, a man in a tuxedo grabbed the microphone on the ballroom stage and asked, “Is everybody having fun?”
A roar from the guests indicated everyone, indeed, was having a good time.
Everyone except Dena Bailey, that is. Weddings were never fun for Dena. They were more like punishment. If the bride hadn’t been her college roommate, she wouldn’t even be at the wedding reception.
“Hey, we got a great crowd here tonight to help Maddie and Dylan celebrate their first day as Mr. and Mrs. Donovan,” the best man continued. “At this time we need Maddie to come forward so we can find out which one of you single ladies is going to be the next one to take that walk down the aisle.”
The announcement was Dena’s cue to leave. Not even for Maddie would she try to catch the bridal bouquet. She grabbed her purse and headed for the exit.
The lighting in the hallway was bright compared to the dimness of the ballroom, causing Dena to squint as she made her escape. When she glanced across the corridor she saw a line of elegantly dressed women waiting to enter the ladies’ room. She turned and walked in the opposite direction in search of another rest room.
A few minutes later, in a deserted corridor near the rear entrance, she found one. With relief she pushed open the door, the echo of her heels on the tiled floor the only sound as she stepped into the washroom.
She automatically glanced in the mirror hanging above the trio of sinks lining the wall. She looked tired, and for good reason. As usual, she’d been working too many hours.
Grateful for the absence of women’s chatter, she crossed the washroom only to stop abruptly. Urinals lined one of the walls.
Dena stared at the porcelain fixtures in disbelief. Instinctively her eyes flew to the stalls. She bent slightly, hoping she wouldn’t see any feet. There weren’t any, and she let out a gasp of relief.
Wasting no time, she hurried back to the door, but before she could reach for the handle, it swung toward her, startling her as much as the sight of the urinals had. Standing in front of her was a man—a very attractive man in a dark suit—who took one look at her and grinned.
“A little crowded in the ladies’, is it?” Amusement laced his words.
“I…” she began, then stopped herself. Any explanation would only prolong her embarrassment.
“Are you the only lady in here or do I need to give a holler?” he asked with a flirtatious gleam in his eye.
Dena shook her head. “It’s just me.”
He gave her a thorough appraisal. “Just you, huh?” The look on his face said he definitely appreciated what he saw. “Are you here for Maddie and Dylan’s wedding?”
There was no point in denying it. “Yes, I’m a friend of Maddie’s.”
“Good. You can show me where the party is. I just got here.” His grin was as bold as his body was big. He was definitely handsome, a small scar on his chin adding to the rugged good looks.
“The ballroom’s just down the hall and to your left. I’m sure you’ll be able to find it,” she said stiffly.
“You’re not going to wait for me?”
With a dull ache throbbing in her forehead, she really was in no mood for flirting. “I think you’re a big enough boy to find your own way, don’t you?”
He stepped to the side and, in a gallant gesture, held the door open for her, motioning with his other arm that she should pass. “See you at the dance.”
She almost said, Not if I have my way, but held her tongue. As she walked by him, she couldn’t help but notice how broad he was. Or how good he smelled. Like a campground early in the morning with the scent of pines lingering