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The smells wafting through her apartment were divine. Throwing the last bowl into the dishwasher, she turned, satisfied with her accomplishment.
She was proud of her state-of-the-art kitchen. It was one of the perks of living in the building. Everything was top-notch, from the appliances to the marble countertops. The luxury condo was worth every penny.
One good sniff, and the hint of burning bread hit her.
“No!” Grabbing the mitt, she slid her hand inside and opened the door. A sigh of relief escaped her. “Perfect.”
Sitting the pan on the counter to cool, she looked down at herself. If she was going to take a plate over to him, she’d better put on a nicer outfit.
Running into her bedroom in full panic mode, she flung open her closet door and stared at her clothes. Everything she had was for the office or lounging, as it was rare for her to go out. Her usual go-to were jeans and a cute top.
“Apparently, I need to go shopping.”
She eyed her cell phone charging on the nightstand, tempted to call Sofie, but she couldn’t tell her she was making dinner for London. Her best friend would want every detail on how she came to be cooking for Mr. Hotness.
“Jeans it is,” she uttered, pairing them with an off the shoulder black top and flip flops.
It wasn’t like she was leaving the building. She was just going to pack up a plate and take it across the hall to her neighbor as a thank you for helping her when she was in a load of pain.
Her heart sped up as she assessed herself in the mirror. She’d put on a little mascara, lip gloss, and changed her glasses from black to her pearly white frames. They complimented her complexion quite nicely.
Alana had a small addiction to glasses. She’d wasn’t one who could wear contacts, and the thought of laser eye surgery made her shudder.
So she was stuck with glasses, and she had a pair in every color.
She wasn’t the type of woman who wore a ton of make-up like the ones coming and going from London’s apartment. Alana liked to think she had natural beauty.
She had to admit, she was probably going overboard, but she wanted to look better than she had this morning in shorts and a tank top, all sweaty.
Now here she stood, her dark hair tumbling past her shoulders and looking good.
“Okay, Alana. We’re going to make him a plate and carry it over to his apartment. That’s it.”
With her head held high, she walked out of her bedroom, feeling the signs of nervousness creeping up on her. She inhaled deeply and tried to will her heart to slow down.
When a knock sounded at the door, she froze.
“Who could that be?”
The building had a doorman who would buzz her first, should any guests show up.
Arriving at her door, she stood on her tiptoes and froze. Peering through the peephole, she couldn’t believe who stood on the other side of her door.
London Keith.
Swinging open the door, she prayed she appeared nonchalant when she greeted him with, “Hey.”
“Hope I’m not too early or too late. You never told me what time dinner was.”
He leaned against the doorframe, his lopsided grin tugging at her heartstrings.
Dressed in a black button-down shirt and dark jeans, he oozed sex appeal.
Alana didn’t think he could look bad in anything he wore. He could be dressed in a burlap sack and she’d want to tear it off of him.
His gaze wandered up and down her body, and her heart skipped a beat.
What was he thinking? She had to keep from fidgeting in place.
