Heart And Soul: A Small Town Fake Relationship Romance (Angel Sands Book 8) Read online

  “That can’t be much fun, not with a young family.” Gloria clucked her tongue.

  “I liked the swimming pool,” Isla said, shrugging.

  Meghan bit down a smile.

  “You’ll like the one here, too then,” Gloria told Isla. “Though it gets full on the weekends.”

  There were four apartment buildings that shared pool access. Her landlord had already told Meghan she had to get there early to get a pool lounger.

  “Did you move here for work?” Gloria took a bite of her cookie. “Oh my, these are delicious.”

  “I purchased the Angel Ice Cream Parlor on the boardwalk,” Meghan told her. “That’s why we moved here.”

  “How lovely. Is that where these are from?” Gloria held up the half-cookie she hadn’t yet eaten.

  “Yes. We make ice cream and cookies.”

  “Then I’ll definitely be down to try some more.” Gloria winked. “How about your husband? What does he do?”

  Meghan swallowed hard, glancing automatically at Isla. “Um, I don’t have a husband.”

  “Isla’s dad doesn’t live here?” Gloria asked.

  “I don’t have a dad,” Isla said, smooshing the rest of her cookie between her lips. “Just a mom.”

  Meghan steeled herself for the judgment that usually came when people asked questions like that.

  “So it’s just the two of you?” Gloria beamed. “Like the Gilmore Girls? That’s good, we get to even up the score a bit.”

  “The score?” Meghan asked.

  “On the tenth floor. I’ve been the only female up here for a while. There are Grant and Kevin in 10D. They got married last year and are finally on their honeymoon.” She shuffled around the letters piled up on her table, pulling out a postcard. “Here they are in Peru, walking the Machu Pichu. They sent me this card, doesn’t it look amazing?” She passed it to Meghan. “They took the picture themselves and then wrote on the back and it printed out in the USA and got sent straight to me. How clever is that? Back when I went on my honeymoon, you had to write them out by hand and get yourself dressed to post the damn things.”

  Meghan looked at the card. It was a photograph of ancient ruins, high on a mountain. Two men were grinning at the camera, their eyes covered with mirrored sunglasses, their thumbs held aloft.

  “They look like they’re having fun. When are they back?” She’d have to make more cookies for them.

  “Not until August. They’re trekking around South America.” Gloria put the card back on her pile of letters. “But if they email, I’ll tell them you’ve moved in.”

  “How about 10A?” Meghan asked. “Is that another couple?”

  “Oh no. That’s the Hot Doc.” Gloria lowered her voice. “That’s what Grant and Kevin call him, though his real name is Richard Martin. He works at Saint Vincent’s Hospital in the Emergency Room. Comes and goes at all hours of the day.”

  Meghan lifted her eyebrows. “I guess it’s useful having a doctor living nearby. In case of accidents.”

  “I guess so. He’s a good boy, but he works too hard.” Gloria shrugged. “But you all do nowadays. It’s as though your generation has forgotten how to have fun. My son’s the same. He’s living in London now, working for Citibank, and he never takes time off. When I was a twenty-something, we knew how to have fun.” She grinned. “But that was in the seventies. Everything was fun then.”

  “I know how to have fun,” Isla piped up. “I like playing in the pool and at the park.”

  “I bet you do. You’ll have to come down to the pool with me sometime,” Gloria said, grinning at Isla. “I do the best cannonballs you’ve ever seen.”

  Meghan tried to imagine Gloria cannonballing into the pool, and she couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Finishing up her glass, she put it on the table and glanced at Isla. “Well that sounds like a blast. But first we have to finish unpacking. Thank you so much for the drinks.”

  “Thank you for the cookies.” Gloria winked. “And welcome to the madhouse.”

  What a sweetie she was. Meghan couldn’t help but feel that she’d lucked out with her neighbors. The fun and unpredictable Gloria, plus the well-travelled Grant and Kevin who she’d hopefully meet next month.

  Not to mention the Hot Doc from Saint Vincent’s, whose real name she’d already forgotten. She’d better check the buzzers and remind herself before she called him the wrong thing.

  It had been two days since they’d moved in and Meghan still hadn’t met her other new neighbor. Meghan eyed the bag of cookies that she’d brought home from Angel Ices today – the third bag she’d made up this week. She didn’t want to just leave them outside his door with a note, that felt weird. Plus, who would eat cookies somebody left outside their door? She wouldn’t. They could be poisoned, or stale, or covered in dirt from the floor. No, better to take them over and introduce herself.

  If he was ever home.

  Isla was watching cartoons in her pajamas, her hair wet and braided after her evening bath. She was twiddling the tail of her hair between her thumb and forefinger, her legs crossed in front of her on the sofa as she leaned toward the flickering screen.

  There was a beautiful flower arrangement on the coffee table, with pale white roses and tiny ivory spray flowers contrasted against shiny dark palm leaves. Gloria had brought it over when Meghan and Isla had arrived back earlier that evening, telling Meghan that the bouquet was from her, Grant, and Kevin, who’d insisted on welcoming her to the floor even though they were in another country right now.

  She smiled at their thoughtfulness. Gloria had given her their email address, and Meghan had sent them a quick thank you email and introduction.

  It was weird how excited she was to meet them.

  “You have ten minutes, sweetie, then it’s bedtime,” Meghan called out.

  Isla nodded, still twirling her hair.

  After putting Isla to bed and reading her a chapter from her favorite Junie B. Jones book, Meghan tidied up the kitchen and sat down at the table with a pad of paper and her reading glasses, curling her legs beneath her. While she was at the ice cream shop today she’d had an idea for a new flavor, and she wanted to write it down before she forgot. A vegan orange blossom and cardamom pod ice, made from a mixture of coconut and almond milk. It would be delicate, but creamy, and she’d already noticed how many of her customers preferred her vegan options. She needed to give them something new to entice them to return.

  It was only when the music started up that she realized her new neighbor must be home. A loud, rapid base echoed through the adjoining wall, making the pictures she’d hung there rattle.

  Well, at least she knew he was home, even if he was noisy. She grabbed the gift bag of cookies and checked on Isla, who was fast asleep, her lips soft and chest rising lightly. Softly closing Isla’s door, she slipped her feet into an old pair of sandals and put the door on the latch, padding across the communal hallway to apartment 10A.

  The music wasn’t so loud out here. It was only when she was a few inches away from the door that she could hear the thumping notes, along with rhythmic thuds that made her wonder what he was doing in there.

  And then her cheeks started flaming because what if he wasn’t alone?

  Surely he couldn’t be doing that. It was only eight-thirty. She sounded like her mom. Just because she wasn’t getting any, didn’t mean other people only had sex between ten p.m. and midnight.

  Her first knock elicited no response. Mostly because she’d barely rapped her knuckles against the wood. Shaking her head at herself she knocked again. Louder. More confident. She was bringing him cookies, he had to be happy to see her.

  “Pizza?” a deep voice called out. “Leave it on the floor. I’ll pick it up in a minute. I’ve added a tip to the app.”

  He thought she was the pizza guy? And also, so much for worrying about leaving her cookies on the floor for him.

  “I’m not the pizza guy.”

  “What?” He sounded irritated.

  “I�
��m not the pizza guy,” she shouted this time.

  The door wrenched open so fast it made her jump.

  And then her mouth dropped open so far that she was almost certain she could touch the floor with her chin. Because damn! The hot doc was scorching.

  And he was also naked from the waist up.

  It was almost impossible to drag her eyes away from the glorious body in front of her. He had the kind of physique you only saw on a huge movie screen. Wide, wide shoulders, a chest so defined she could pitch a tent on his pectorals and have the best view of Angel Sands. His stomach was perfect – ridged and dipped in all the right places, a thin sheen of sweat making his tan skin shine in the hallway light.

  And dear god, she was staring.

  Swallowing down her embarrassment, she brought her gaze up until her eyes finally met his. His brows were pulled together, his lips tight, but dammit if the face wasn’t as beautiful as the body.

  “Um, hi.” Oh perfect opening, Meghan. You don’t look like an imbecile at all.

  He blinked, and lifted the edge of the towel that was hooked around his neck, wiping his dark, stubbled chin. “Hi?”

  “I’m Meghan.” Her eyes were wide with the effort to remember how to form words. This doc wasn’t hot, he was illegal. “From next door.”

  His brows dipped further. “Next door?” He looked over her shoulder at Gloria’s apartment.

  “From 10B. We moved in this week. I brought you cookies to say hi.” She held the gift bag up, but he was still staring at her as though she was some kind of alien.

  “For me?”

  She forced a smile onto her face. “Yes. I run the ice cream parlor on the boardwalk. Angel Ices. I just wanted to introduce myself and give you a little welcome gift.”

  “Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to receive gifts for moving in?”

  Meghan shrugged. “They’re just from my shop.”

  “Well thank you.” He reached out for the bag, and his fingers brushed against hers. It took everything she had not to jump back in reaction. His hands were twice the size of hers, and softer than she’d expected, with long elegant fingers that seemed to conduct electricity straight through her skin.

  “So I should go. My daughter’s asleep in my apartment.” She gave him a tight smile.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, tipping his gorgeous head to the side.

  “Meghan Hart.”

  “And your husband?”

  “I don’t have a husband. It’s just me and Isla. She’s eight, but she’s quiet. She won’t give you any trouble.”

  The corner of his lip twitched. “I’m not around much anyway.” The music moved on to another song, the bass pumping out, and it made him frown. “Oh, uh, should I turn the music down? I don’t want to wake up your kid.”

  Yeah, he should. And if she had any sense she’d tell him she could feel it vibrating through the walls. But right now she was too busy trying to stop looking at him to find the words to tell him that.

  “It’s fine. Her bedroom’s on the other side.”

  He nodded. “I’m Rich, by the way. Rich Martin.” He wiped his right hand on the towel and held it out to her, his left clutching the gift bag.

  She slid her palm against his and felt that electricity again. She was such an embarrassment.

  The guy was good looking. Period. He probably had women fluttering their eyelids around him all the time. She was better than this.

  Giving him a firm handshake, she flashed him a smile and stepped back. “It’s lovely to meet you, Rich. I guess I’ll see you around.”

  He smiled, his eyes crinkling and it didn’t make her insides turn to jelly at all. “I look forward to it.”

  She turned and walked away, glad that she could screw her face up at herself without him seeing. God, she was such a loser. That’s what happened when you spent the last eight years bringing up a child, with only the occasional date or physical contact with the opposite sex.

  It turned you into a raving moron.

  By the time she pulled open her apartment door, Rich’s had closed, the loud music muffled by the wood.

  But then it opened again, just as fast as last time, and his deep blue eyes met hers. “Meghan?”

  She gave him a half smile. “Yes?”

  “Welcome to your new home.” He closed the door just as fast as he’d opened it, leaving her staring at the dark wood instead of his eyes.

  3

  “Mommy, please can we go to the pool?” Isla implored, giving Meghan a hopeful smile.

  It was just after eight on Saturday morning. Jeannie was due to open the shop today, aided by three students they’d employed to work part-time shifts. Meghan and Isla would go in for the late shift. The office had been converted into a cozy playroom, complete with a two-seater sofa, a coffee table for Isla’s painting projects, and a television for those moments when she was really bored.

  It wasn’t perfect, but Isla’s babysitter didn’t work on the weekends.

  “Maybe for an hour,” Meghan said, mentally shifting her morning schedule in her head. “But after that we have some errands to run. And we need to clean the apartment, because Granny and Gramps are visiting us tomorrow.”

  “They are?” Isla’s face lit up. “Yay!”

  At least one of them was happy about it. Meghan’s relationship with her parents was fragile. Had been since the day she’d told them she was pregnant and the father didn’t want anything to do with it. At first, her parents had gone crazy. It had taken them almost six months before they spoke to her again. But they loved Isla and she loved them back. And that was enough.

  “Yep. So you’ll need to tidy your room when we get back from the shop tonight.”

  “Can we bring some cookies home for Granny and Gramps?” Isla asked. “I could decorate them. They’d love it.”

  Yes they would. Luckily, Isla could do no wrong in their eyes. Their worship of their granddaughter made up for their disappointment in their only child.

  “Sure. You can decorate them this afternoon. Now go get your bathing suit on, and I’ll grab mine. But we have to leave the pool when I say so, okay?”

  Isla’s expression was full of innocence. “Sure.”

  Most of the loungers were already taken when they made it down to the pool, but Meghan managed to find two in the third row, spreading their towels out on them and putting her beach bag on top. They’d already put sunscreen on before they left the apartment, much to Isla’s disgust.

  “But it’s not even summer,” she complained.

  “It doesn’t matter. You can still get burned.”

  Truthfully, the sun had barely managed to warm the air up yet, though the forecast promised a balmy day with temperatures reaching the low seventies. That had made Meghan smile because good weather meant more visitors to the beach – and to the ice cream parlor.

  “You’re new,” a smokey voice said. The woman on the chair next to Meghan’s put her Styrofoam cup of Déjà Brew coffee down and lifted her sunglasses up, giving Meghan and Isla the once over.

  “We are.” Meghan gave her a smile. “We moved in this week. Have you lived here long?”

  “Three years. I’m practically a veteran now. I’m Raeanne, by the way.”

  “I’m Meghan, and this is my daughter, Isla.”

  “Which floor are you on?” Raeanne asked.

  “The tenth.”

  “The tenth?” The woman next to Raeanne sat up, smoothing her blonde hair back. “With Mr. Gorgeous?”

  Raeanne’s eyes widened. “You don’t live with him, do you?” Her eyes swept over Isla. “Before we embarrass ourselves?”

  “I assume you’re referring to my neighbor. And no, I don’t live with him.”

  “We live on our own,” Isla piped up.

  Raeanne leaned back on her deck chair. “Ah well, at least you get daily eye candy. That man could be my next door neighbor any day.”

  “You’ll have to get in line,” the woman next to her said. “I�
��ve been here for five years. I have seniority.”

  “Let’s face it, neither of us are going to get that lucky. I’ve never seen him with the same date twice.” Raeanne shook her head.

  “I’d be happy to settle for once. Have you seen his body?”

  Meghan glanced at Isla. She was rummaging through Meghan’s bag, too busy trying to find her pool toys to listen to the gossip, thank goodness.

  Not that Meghan had any moral authority here, after the way she’d reacted to her new neighbor the other day. She’d practically stripped him with her eyes.

  Or she would have, if he hadn’t been half naked already. And that’s something she definitely wasn’t sharing with Raeanne and her friend.

  “Is it okay if I leave my bag here while we go for a swim?” she asked Raeanne. The pool area looked secure enough. You had to use a special key to open the gate, and there was a lifeguard on duty at all times, but she wanted to make sure.

  “Of course. But the water’s cold, I’m warning you.”

  “I don’t think Isla cares.” Meghan smiled. “But thank you for the warning.”

  Raeanne wasn’t wrong about the temperature. While Isla jumped straight in, her bright red hair emerging to the surface before the rest of her, Meghan sat gingerly on the edge, dipping her feet into the chilly water, wincing as it hit her skin. Maybe she could get away with sitting here while Isla swam. She took the ball Isla had brought down and threw it at her. Isla caught it and giggled, throwing it back to Meghan.

  It was no good, she was going to have to get in. Her two-piece bathing suit wasn’t exactly skimpy with its grey, waist high bottoms and a black triangle top that just about contained her breasts. But her exposed skin was still cool and at least in the water she’d be able to move around and warm up. Resigning herself to the inevitable, she threw the ball into the water and put her palms flat on the edge and braced her arms to lift herself in. But before she could, a dark shadow moved over, blocking out the sunlight.

  Looking up, Meghan saw her new neighbor towering over her, wearing a pair of swim shorts and nothing else.

  In the bright morning light he looked even more glorious than the first time she’d seen him, maybe something to do with the fact that his muscled thighs were dead set in her eye line.