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"Mr. Hotness alert!" Alana Thornton whispered fiercely as she bolted from the couch in an attempt to run to the door. Her foot connected with the corner of the coffee table. "Ouch!"
Tiptoeing toward the door of the apartment, Sofie chuckled. "You’re so damn clumsy."
Feminine giggling could be heard in the hallway, along with a deep, baritone voice. Alana couldn't make out what they were saying, but whatever it was, their laughter grew.
Rolling her eyes, Alana hobbled over and mouthed, “Move,” elbowing her friend in the side.
With a dramatic gasp, Sofie backed off.
Her door, her apartment—she got dibs.
She lived in a luxury apartment building in downtown Cleveland, and the place was usually nice and quiet.
Until he brought home company.
Her neighbor was droolworthy, and she looked forward to the small glances she got of him occasionally.
Pushing her dark-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose, she stood on her toes to look through the peephole, which was placed high enough for people of average height, unlike her. Closing one eye, she focused on the figures standing in the hallway.
London Keith.
In the flesh.
Alana's breath caught in her throat as he came into view.
He was tall and muscular, with dark wavy hair.
He dripped sex appeal.
The nickname she and Sofie had chosen for him didn't do him justice.
Mr. Hotness.
And it appeared Mr. Hotness would be entertaining two bimbos tonight.
Alana took in their skimpy clothing and thin bodies. They were plastered all over London as he leaned back against the wall.
"What's going on?" Sofie whispered.
Alana’s eyes grew wider as another woman came into view.
She swallowed hard.
He must have one hell of a dick.
"There's three of them tonight," Alana responded.
"Let me see." Pushing Alana aside, she peered through the hole.
Alana leaned back against the wall. Though he'd moved in a few months ago, they hadn't officially met. Every weekend, London brought home women who came and went. She noticed through all of her snooping that he never had the same one over. He was a man who loved women, and he didn't discriminate: tall, short, blonde, brunette, black, white, brown—he liked them all.
She'd never seen anyone who looked like her, though. Not that she was vying for London's attention or anything, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't curious.
She was nothing like the women who were practically climbing him while he tried to get into his apartment.
Alana Thornton was shy, and proud to be called a nerd. Working as a financial analyst during the week, she loved hanging out, or reading at the trendy coffee shop a block away from her building on the weekends.
Coffee and books were where her heart was.
