Noel.
I AWAKENED, SNUGGLING INTO my pillow and smiling at the warm, cozy feeling of my bed. I settled into the moment a little more before my eyes shot open at the sound of water running and dishes clattering.
What the heck?
I sat up slowly, pushing my eye mask to my forehead while frowning at the wall separating my bedroom from the kitchen. I stretched my neck and squinted, knowing that I had to be hearing things . . . but there it was again—a dish clashing against something, maybe the counter, and the sound of water running.
Oh no.
I’m being robbed.
Wait, but why would they stop to wash dirty dishes if I’m being robbed?
My mind and body flooded with panic. I threw the covers back and paced beside my bed, trying to decide what to do. Seconds later, I grabbed the first thing I could get my hands on and rushed to the door, hurrying into the hallway and then toward the kitchen . . . just in time to see a body covered in navy slacks and a crisp white shirt, digging through my pantry. He was tall, with broad shoulders, a slim waist, and his clothes were far too neat and expensive.
Okay, maybe he’s not here to rob and murder me. Just popped in to borrow . . .
“Where the heck are the trash bags?”
Trash bags?
I frowned harder and lifted my arm in the air, prepared to defend myself. “Hey, what are you doing in my apartment?”
My intruder glanced over his shoulder, slowly taking me in from head to toe, and my cheeks warmed because his eyes lingered a little too long in certain places. Okay, maybe I should have grabbed a robe.
Too late for that.
“I said, what are you doing in my apartment?”
He turned completely to face me with an amused smile crawling onto his face while his brows lifted slightly.
“Trying to find trash bags. Nothing in there is organized or where it should be.”
I tilted my head to the side as he advanced and locked his arms across his chest. His very firm and solid chest that I wouldn’t mind a better peek at, nixing the shirt, I might add.
Noel, snap out of it—strange man in your apartment. Focus!
We were still on opposite sides of the kitchen, but still . . .
“Stop moving and answer my question.”
His smile expanded, and he tilted his head to the side, mirroring my current position. “And if I don’t? Are you going to club me to death with an elf ?”
My eyes darted to the item I’d mindlessly grabbed before leaving my room. A stuffed elf that my mother had sent in her care package. I quickly drew it into my chest, hating how his eyes followed the motion. His lips twitched in amusement.
“Maybe.” I straightened my spine, extending my height as much as I could. Didn’t do much good. He still had me by a foot or more. “Now, answer my question, buddy. What are you doing in my apartment?”
“I already did. I told you I was looking for trash bags.” He tossed his chin, motioning to the pantry behind him. “You really should do better organizing your things, Ms . Anderson.”
I frowned at him knowing who I was when I had no clue who he was. Well, other than him being a well-dressed stranger who smelled all woodsy and manly with a hint of citrus. Grapefruit . . . no, orange. Nice . Definitely a subtle hint of orange. And then there was the inky sheen of well-groomed hair that covered his square jaw, and those eyes . . . Those beautiful dark eyes and God, those lips . . .
Wait! What the heck am I doing? I shook away the lustful haze I’d somehow fallen under and focused on the issue at hand. Stranger danger!
“Don’t worry about my organizational skills because that’s none of your business. Who are you? Why do you know my name, and more importantly, what the heck are you doing in my apartment?”
He stepped closer, grinning when I quickly held up the elf defensively. He also didn’t stop until that elf and my hand were inches shy of his very solid chest. “It’s kind of hard not to worry about your organizational skills when I’m in desperate need of a trash bag to replace the one I removed, and I’m here because I rented this apartment for the week. And lastly, my name is Kanton Joseph. Not in the order you demanded, but I’ve now answered all of your questions, Ms. Anderson. I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you and thank you for the warm welcome, but . . .”
He glared down at the elf and then smiled smugly. “I don’t quite feel welcomed and wouldn’t at the moment categorize you as pleasant.” His eyes did that roaming thing again before he added, “Outside of the visual. That is quite pleasant.”
I’m totally going to ignore the way he’s checking me out.
“Well, you shouldn’t because you’re not welcome. You shouldn’t be here. I canceled.”
“You did no such thing.”
“I most certainly did. I have the email confirmation, buddy .”
“Kanton,” he corrected, and I rolled my eyes.
“No point in us being familiar. You won’t be here much longer.”
He smirked and lowered his head so that those alluring dark eyes were fastened with mine. “Would you like to get that confirmation for me? I’ll wait.”
I frowned hard. “I’m not leaving you alone in here. You might—”
“Wash some dishes and take out the trash?” His thick, dark brow lifted again, and his insanely gorgeous smile was back.
Man, I hate this guy.
Okay, maybe not hate. That was a bit strong. But I really, really didn’t like him.
Well, beyond looking at him because, let’s face it, the guy was easy on the eyes.
“Well, Ms. Anderson?”
“Stop that. Stop using my name like we’re acquainted or like you know me because you do not.”
He smiled smugly and checked me out again. I groaned, needing to get him out of here.
And for me to put on some clothes.
“Stay here. Right here. Do not move. I need to get my phone.”
He smiled arrogantly. “I have no plans on going anywhere . . . for the next week.”
I groaned again and stomped off, delivering my warning one last time. “I mean it. Don’t you move.”
“I won’t.”
As soon as I entered my room, I grabbed a sweatshirt from the pile of clothes in the corner, which I yanked over my head, then lifted my phone from the nightstand and held it to my face to unlock it. It took me a minute to find the email confirmation, but I smiled widely as soon as I did.
“Aha. Got him,” I muttered and turned on my heels to storm back into the kitchen, this time leaving the elf behind. Not that it would do me much good anyway.
“Here. There’s your proof. Confirmation email sent a day and a half ago, which is actually thirty-eight hours before your arrival time. I gave you an entire fourteen extra hours to make alternate plans.”
He leaned in and studied my phone, which I gladly shoved closer to his face, and after a long pause, he chuckled and extended to his full height.
He shouldn’t be laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“You might want to look at that so-called confirmation you’re using to argue your case.”
“I already did. You need to be the one looking at it, and the sooner you do, the sooner you can get out of my apartment.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He motioned to my phone, and I turned the device back in my direction and glanced at the screen. Maybe I’d mistakenly moved to another email, but the longer I looked at the one on my phone, the more my stomach twisted uneasily.
No. No. No.
This can’t be right.
Thank you, Mr. Joseph, for confirming your stay with Shared Space. You’ll find the access code to the unit you’ve reserved in the email below. We hope you enjoy your stay. Don’t forget to leave a review.
I swiped frantically, checking for another email. My cancellation email. It had to be here.
“Wait. I canceled. I know I canceled. I got the email confirmation . . .”
That was when the night came flooding back to me. The hourglass, the medicine I’d taken, and the confirmation email that appeared seconds after I’d gone through the process on the Shared Space site . . . which wasn’t my cancellation. It was his confirmation. I hadn’t bothered to double-check.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“I take it that look on your face means you now realize that this place, your place, is mine for the week.”
“What? No. You’re not staying here,” I asserted, not willing to admit that he had every right to.
“You sure about that? Because you just showed me proof that I not only paid for the week but confirmed with you within the allotted time requested to do so. And you , Ms. Anderson, did not cancel within the agreed upon twenty-four hours provided for you to change your mind prior to my arrival.” He stepped closer with an accomplished look on his unfairly handsome face. “ Unless you have another email you’d like to show me.”
I frowned. “No, I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I have to let you stay. I’ll call security. Lewis will gladly march you right out of here or get the cops to do so.”
“Cops? And what will you tell them? That you took my money and refused to uphold your end of the contract? Because it is indeed a contract, Ms. Anderson. One you and I willingly entered into the minute you accepted my money through the Shared Space site.”
I frowned again. “Are you a lawyer or something?”
Please, God, don’t let this man be a lawyer . I mean, he did look like he could be. He had the serious, manipulative, slick-talking thing down.
He seemed amused. “No, I’m a financial strategist. I own a corporate restructuring firm, but I do have several lawyers on speed dial who charge extra on weekends and holidays. Ridiculously high amounts, I might add. I’d prefer that the two of us work this out independently.”
“Of course you would,” I mumbled. My hands were officially tied. “Stay here.”
“Again, I have no plans on going anywhere, but I’ll finish up here while you’re gone. Trash bags?”
I growled under my breath and stomped over to the sink, yanking open the cabinet below it. Once I had my hands on the small box of trash bags, I turned and shoved it into his chest, meeting a wall of firm muscle. He grinned, catching them before they dropped to the floor because I kindly released my hold on them and stomped out of the kitchen, again with his voice traveling behind me.
“Take your time, Noel .”
Oh, now we’re on a first-name basis?
As soon as I was in my room, I dialed Simone and began pacing while I waited for her to pick up. Every so often, my eyes drifted to the wall separating me and Kanton.
“Hey, I hope you’re—”
“I messed up, and I’m stuck. I don’t know what to do.”
“Whoa, slow down. What do you mean ‘messed up’? What happened?”
“Shared Space is what happened. The guy, he’s here.”
“What do you mean he’s there?”
I threw my free arm up. “ Here , like in my apartment.”
“In your apartment? What’s he doing there?”
“To my knowledge, washing dishes, taking out the trash, and critiquing my organizational skills.”
“Wait, I’m so confused. Why is he there? Didn’t you cancel the booking?”
I cursed under my breath and cringed.
“You forgot, didn’t you?”
I cringed again and sank onto the foot of my bed, lowering my face into my palm. “No, I didn’t forget. I actually canceled when you told me to—”
“Then why is he there, Noel?”
“Because the screen timed out. The little hourglass thing came up . . .”
“And you didn’t check to make sure it went through?”
“No, but in my defense, while I was waiting, an email popped up from Shared Space with a confirmation, but I didn’t read it. I briefly scanned it, noticed the word ‘confirmation,’ and thought it was from my canceling.”
“Then I don’t understand.”
“It was his confirmation that he was keeping the booking—not my cancellation. I mean, what are the odds that he was confirming at the exact moment when I was canceling? Anyone could have made the same mistake.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not anyone , It’s you, and now you have a stranger in your home. If you don’t let him stay, you’ll have to give him back his payment, and you’ll get a negative rating with Shared Space, which means no more bookings. Then there’s the little detail of you having to pay the penalty of 25 percent of the booking’s total amount tacked onto the money you must return to him. Neither of which you currently have.”
“Right,” I mumbled. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Let him stay. You need the money, and he needs a place to sleep for the week.”
“I know I need the money, but what good will it do me if I’m not here to spend it?”
“Why would you say that? Does he look dangerous? Oh my goodness. You think he’s dangerous, don’t you? Where are you? Where is he ?”
My eyes shot over to my bedroom door, which I’d left open, and I could still hear him moving around in the kitchen. “Calm down, I think he’s harmless. A little rude, condescending, kind of stuffy if you ask me. And a little too obsessed with how I organize my pantry, but if I had to guess, his lack of social skills is about the extent of his dangerous persona.”
“What’s he look like?” Her tone was too smug.
“What does that matter?”
“It matters because you’re defending him, which means he’s really a nice guy or cute. Which is it?”
“Neither. Again, not the point. What am I supposed to do?”
“Okay, I’ll go with cute, and you’re supposed to let him stay or refund his money. Maybe he won’t mind you being there if you stay out of his way. What other options do you have?”
“No. Absolutely not. I’m not staying here with him. I don’t know that man. And what kind of friend are you to suggest I do so?”
“No, you don’t, and I’m a very good friend who knows you’re broke.”
“I’m not broke.”
“Okay, okay. Not broke, in between blessings.” I smiled, imagining her eyes rolling. “But the fact remains, you can’t afford to return his money, nor can you pay the penalty that Shared Space will charge, and even if you could, that’s not a good idea. You need the option for future income if it comes to that. You’re also surviving off your credit, and a civil judgment won’t look good on your reports. What choice do you have? It’s only one week. You can handle one week, And if he’s cute, heck, who knows? Maybe it will be a Merry Christmas after all.”
“Are you serious right now?”
“I sure am. Now, go, see if he’ll agree to you staying. I mean, the site is called Shared Space, and if not, you can get a room somewhere.”
“Get a room where? It’s Christmas, and besides, my cards are just about maxed out—”
“I can . . .”
“No, you cannot.” She’d done more than enough helping here and there when she could.
“Then consider using Emmie.”
“No, emergencies only.” I sighed in defeat and cringed, realizing my hands were indeed tied and that I might possibly have to spend the week with a stranger. A very sexy stranger who was far too opinionated but still sexy. “I’ll call you back.”
I ended the conversation before she could object and tossed my phone on the mattress, falling back on my bed where I grabbed a pillow and covered my face, then screamed as low as I could.
“This can’t be my life,” I said with a sigh.
Oh, but it is. And there’s not a darn thing I can do about it.