“Done stalking me?” he sniped back, because if Aubrey knew he was there, he wasn’t exactly innocent.
Aubrey absorbed this rebuttal with a neutral expression, then blinked, inhaled deeply, and rolled his shoulders. “Let me try that again, okay? Good morning, Nate.”
Nate eyed him suspiciously. “Good morning.” Though it hadn’t been good so far, between his shower frustration and now this. And he still hadn’t gotten to eat his pastries; they were cooling in the bag even now.
Aubrey dropped his gaze to the sidewalk and then looked up and met Nat’s eyes. “Look, I just need to apologize. I was so out of line yesterday. It was unprofessional of me, and I’m sorry.”
For a moment Nate couldn’t think of anything to say. He hadn’t expected an apology, much less a sincere one. “Okay,” he finally said when he realized Aubrey was waiting for verbal confirmation that Nate had heard him.
“Okay,” Aubrey repeated, some of the tension visibly melting out of him. “That’s all I wanted to say. I know making comments about a coworker’s sex life isn’t okay, and it won’t happen again. I promise I’m normally better at keeping my foot out of my mouth.”
Nate felt his lips twitching in amusement despite his poor mood. “Yeah, isn’t that a move figure skaters practice?”
Aubrey barked out a laugh, the smile transforming his face into something kind and almost magnetic. “So you do know who I am.”
Aubrey was a two-time Olympian. Yeah, Nate knew who he was. “My mom used to love watching you skate.” Nate didn’t watch figure skating as a rule, but he couldn’t say he’d exactly torn himself away from the screen when Aubrey skated either. He’d exuded some kind of forbidden allure in his flamboyant, sparkling costumes and glittery, overdramatic eye makeup.
By mutual unspoken agreement, they had begun to walk back toward Nate’s apartment. “I could totally send her an autograph,” Aubrey offered. “Token of goodwill.”
Nate couldn’t decide if that was sweet or narcissistic. Both? His mother would love it, though, and it might forestall some of her nagging about Nate’s unpleasant on-air attitude. “I’ll think about it.” But he didn’t want to soften uptoomuch. He needed to keep this professional. Which, speaking of—he belatedly added, “Thanks.”
“Seriously, it wouldn’t be any trouble.” Aubrey swung in a wide arc around a woman pushing a double-wide stroller. Nate increased his pace to catch up. “If you want to come up, I can—”
Oh no.“Come up?” Nate interrupted, his stomach dropping.
“Yeah.” Aubrey gestured to the building behind him. “I’ve got a folder full of professional shots somewhere. You can pick one out and I’ll personalize it. ‘Dear Mrs. Nate’s Mom, Sorry I made inappropriate sexual comments about your kid. Enjoy this glossy testament to self-centeredness.’”
Nate said, “You live here?”
“Yes?” Aubrey frowned. “If you don’t want the picture, just say so. You’re not going to hurt my feelings.” He rubbed his left wrist and then amended, “Much.”
No. Nate could not afford to let himself be charmed. It was one thing to make peace with a coworker and another to… just, no. “Since when?”
Now Aubrey was looking at him like he’d just said the Kings had a decent shot at the Cup this year. “Since when are you not going to hurt my feelings?”
“Since when have you lived here?” Nate corrected, exasperated, and tried desperately not to panic. Or smile. Fortunately the impulses almost canceled each other out. “I’ve never seen you in the elevator or anything.”
Aubrey raised his eyebrows. “Youlive here? What floor?”
“Fifteenth.”
“Huh.” Aubrey shrugged. “I’m on seventeen. I wonder why we’ve never run into each other.” They turned and went into the building, both waving at the doorman.
“Different schedules, probably.”
Aubrey acknowledged this with a tilt of his head. “Well, that’s changed. No wonder we’re running into each other now.” Then he quirked his lips. “So. You coming up for that autograph?”
Nate followed him into the elevator and pushed the button for his own floor. Was that an innuendo? Surely not. An autograph was just an autograph. Aubrey had justapologizedfor sexual harassment. He was hardly going to start again. “Ah, no. I think….” Crap, he needed an excuse. Right—he was still holding the bag of pastries with three fingers and his thumb. “Breakfast, and then I’m going to hit the gym.” Old habits died hard. Pastries could be added to the diet plan, but he’d feel like lukewarm garbage if he skipped his workout.
With a shrug, Aubrey hit the button for his own floor—so high up he had to swipe his key card. Right, Nate remembered—he hadn’t made his money, he’d been born into it. His parents owned a hotel chain or something. “Suit yourself.”
The doors closed, and so did Aubrey’s mouth. Nate kept quiet too, thinking that this was perhaps the longest elevator ride he’d been on in a while. Every second seemed to stretch endlessly as his sexual frustration ratcheted up along with the floor count.
But finally the doors slid open on his floor, and Nate was free. “See you later,” he called over his shoulder.
The doors closed again before he could catch Aubrey’s reply.
Inside his apartment, Nate dropped his keys, coffee, and pastries on the console table, left his shoes on the rack, and then crossed the entryway into the living room, where he lay down on the couch and pulled a throw pillow over his face. When screaming into it only half helped, he tossed it onto the floor.
