Page 9 of The Summer Show

“Oh my God, Nick! What the heck are you doing? Are you crazy?”

Was I shrieking?

No, I was not.

Admittedly, I was struck dumb, openly gawping at what was possibly the finest male body I had ever laid eyes on.

The naked man, who was now walking toward the door with a kind of grace that I could only call feline in the most apex predator kind of way, was made of densely corded muscles on a stocky frame. His shoulders were broad and sloped. He was one mild bout of viral gastroenteritis away from a six-pack. His hair was short, dark, rumpled like he had recently pulled his shirt over his head.

Which, given his nakedness, was likely.

My gaze slid down, then jumped back up when Ana elbowed me. I’m not going to say he was sporting a monster, but the man was blessed. When the gods were handing out eggplants, he’d sweet talked them into a bit extra. Not a full-sized additional serving, but definitely enough to ask for a to-go box.

I was intimidated, really.

And fascinated.

“Nick?” I said in sheer disbelief. This couldn’t be happening.

And yet … Well, here we were.

His lip quirked up at the edge.

With a half smile, he shut the door.

Mr. 24C, the man who’d used me as a pillow for hours, actually shut the door in my face.

“Nick?” I repeated because the universe had finally broken me. “Nick Merrick? That’s Nick?”

“My brother, yeah,” Ana said. She raised her voice. “My brother who isn’t even supposed to be here!” She rapped on the wood. “What the heck, Nick? Why are you here?”

His voice filtered through the door. “Can’t stand the coddling at Yiayia’s and Proyiayia’s place.”

“That explains why you’re in my house when you’re not supposed to be, but why are you in Greece?”

“Vacation.”

“It’s summer.”

“Summer vacation.”

“Did you get fired?”

“The boss doesn’t fire himself.”

There were sounds on the other side of the door, the sounds of someone undressing in reverse.

Dressing.

“Nick! You know I love you, but we’ve got one spare bedroom and it’s Kathleen’s for the summer.”

“Tell Kathleen she can stay with Yiayia and Proyiayia,” Mr. 24C called out.

She rolled her eyes at me. “Absolutely not. I love her too much to do that to her.”

The door opened. Nick had not located his clothes. What he had found was a towel that was wrapped around his waist and didn’t leave much to the imagination. As somebody who devoured books like they were candy, I was a woman in possession of entirely too much imagination, and that imagination had slathered itself in bacon grease and was running headlong into a sizzling frying pan.

“I need a shower,” he said. “I’ve been on a plane for what feels like a week.”