River’s End

buzzer of 2-B, the door of 2-A opened.
    “Well, hello.”
    And this, he thought, must be Linda. The smile was a knee-jerk reaction to the smoldering brunette with laser blue eyes. His blood ran just a few beats faster, as the little red dress painted over female curves meant it to.
    He knew her type and appreciated it. Just as he appreciated the way she moved, the metronome sway of hips, as she stepped out into the hall, crossing to him on ice-pick heels the same hot sex color as the dress.
    “Can you give me a hand with this? I’m just ... all thumbs tonight.”
    She dangled a thin gold bracelet from her fingertips, breathed in and out slow and deep, just in case he hadn’t noticed the really lovely breasts straining against the slick red.
    “Sure.” There was nothing more flattering to the male ego than an obvious woman. He took the bracelet, circled it around her wrist and enjoyed the way she shifted her body closer, angled in to tip her face back and look into his.
    “If Liv’s had you tucked away, it’s no wonder she never goes out.”
    He fastened the bracelet and wallowed in the come-and-get-me fragrance pumping off Linda’s skin. “Doesn’t she?”
    “All work and all work, that’s our Liv.” She laughed and gave a skilled shake of her head that tossed her luxurious dark curls. “Me, I like to play.”
    “I bet you do.” He still had Linda’s wrist in his hand, and the friendly grin on his face, when the door behind him opened.
    He forgot Linda had ever been born. He forgot the book. He very nearly forgot his name.
    Olivia was anything but obvious. She stood in the doorway, wearing a dress of quiet blue that covered a lot more area than Linda’s red. And made him wonder just what was under all that soft material. She’d left her hair loose so that it fell straight as rain and gave him a glimpse of glints of gold at her ears.
    He already knew he’d have to get close, very close, to catch her scent. Her lips were unpainted, her eyes cool.
    No, she was definitely not a kid anymore, he thought, thankfully.
    “You look great.”
    She only lifted her eyebrows, skimmed her gaze over Linda. “I’ll just get a jacket.”
    She pivoted, walked back into her apartment on long, wonderful hiker’s legs. There was no reason to be angry, she told herself as she snatched up her jacket and bag. No reason for this grinding sense of disappointment. She wouldn’t have known he was flirting with Linda if she hadn’t been watching for his car like a love-struck teenager. If she hadn’t scurried over to the door to look out the Judas hole and watch him come toward the door.
    There was no point in feeling let down because she had agonized for two hours over the right dress, the right hairstyle. It was her own problem. Her own responsibility. She turned back toward the door and bumped right into him.
    “Sorry. Let me help you with that.” He was close now, and drew in her scent as he took the jacket from her. It was perfect for her. Just perfect.
    “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
    “Interrupt what?” He slipped the jacket on for her and indulged himself in a sniff at her hair.
    “You and Linda?”
    “Who? Oh.” He laughed, taking Olivia’s hand and walking to the door. “Not exactly shy, is she?”
    “No.”
    “Did you finish your paper?”
    “Yes, barely.”
    “Good. You can tell me all about fungus.”
    It made her laugh. He held her hand all the way down to the car, then he skimmed his fingers over her hair, brushing it back just as she started to climb in. Her heart stumbled, and fell right at his feet.
    He’d found an Italian place just casual enough not to intimidate. Tiny white candles flickered on soft, salmon-colored cloths. Conversation was muted and punctuated with laughter. The air was ripe with good, rich scents.
    He was easy to talk to. He was the first man, outside of family, she’d ever had dinner with who seemed actually interested in her studies and her plans to use them. Then she remembered his mother.
    “Is your mother still involved with causes?”
    “She and her congressmen are on a first-name basis. She never lets up. I think the current focus is the plight of the mustang. Are you going to let me taste that?”
    “What?” She’d just lifted a forkful of portobello mushroom. “Oh. Sure.”
    When she would have put the bite on his plate, he simply took her wrist, guided her hand toward his mouth. Heat washed into her belly as his eyes watched hers over the