When he gave me a small, expectant smile, a dimple popped in his right cheek.
“I—” I said. Because I still had just enough of my wits about me to remember that when someone introduced themselves, social custom dictated you say something in return. “You’re . . . huh.”
By this point, I was screaming internally at myself to snap out of it. I wasn’t someone who usually gawked at people or went automatically into lust mode immediately after meeting someone attractive. Not like this, anyway. I still wasn’t certain I even wanted to move into this apartment—but I also didn’t want this guy to reject me right off the bat just because I was acting weird and inappropriate.
It didn’t matter that Frederick J. Fitzwilliam had the sort of broad, muscular build that suggested he led football teams to victory when he was younger and still worked out regularly now.
It didn’t matter that he wore a perfectly tailored three-piece suit, the charcoal-gray jacket and starched white shirt clinging to those broad shoulders like they were made specifically for his body, or that his matching gray slacks fit him just as well.
None of this mattered, because this was someone with a room I maybe hoped to rent. Nothing more.
I had to get a grip on myself.
I tried to focus on the more eccentric aspects of his outfit—the frilly blue cravat he wore at his neck; the shiny wing-tipped shoes on his feet—but it didn’t help. Even with those unusual accessories he was still the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen.
As I stood there, yelling at myself to stop gaping at him while being helpless to do anything but, Frederick just stared at me with a puzzled expression. I wasn’t sure what there was to be puzzled about. He had to know how hot he was, right? He must have been used to getting this reaction from people. He probably had to fend horny people off with a stick every time he left his home.
“Miss Greenberg?”
Frederick cocked his head to the side, probably waiting for me to form a complete sentence. When I didn’t, he stepped out into the hallway—most likely to get a closer look at the weirdo who’d just shown up at his door.
But his eyes weren’t on me anymore. They were on the floor, riveted to the cheesy doormat at my feet.
He scowled at the stupid thing like it had personally wronged him.
“Reginald,” he muttered under his breath. He knelt down and grabbed the welcome mat in both hands. I absolutely did not stare at his perfect butt as he did it. “Thinks he’s so funny, does he?”
Before I could ask who Reginald was or what he was talking about, Frederick turned his attention back to me. I must have looked pretty out of it because his expression softened at once.
“Are you quite all right, Miss Greenberg?” His deep voice conveyed what sounded like genuine concern.
I managed, with difficulty, to tear my eyes away from his perfect face, and stared pointedly down at my shoes. I cringed at the sight of my paint-splattered, beat-up old Chucks. I’d been so flustered I’d forgotten all about the fact that I’d showed up covered in paint and wearing the worst clothes I owned.
“I’m fine,” I lied. I stood a little taller. “I’m just . . . yeah. I’m just a little tired.”
“Ah.” He nodded, understanding. “I see. Well, Miss Greenberg . . . are you still interested in touring the apartment tonight to determine whether it suits your needs? Or would you perhaps prefer to reschedule given your current fatigue and your . . .” He trailed off, his eyes roaming over me slowly, taking in every part of my outfit.
I flushed hot with embarrassment. Okay, yes—clearly I had underdressed for coming here. But he didn’t need to make a thing about it, did he?
In a way, though, I was grateful. He might be the most attractive man I had ever seen in my life, but people who were snobby about appearances were seriously one of my biggest pet peeves. His reaction to my clothes helped prod me from my ridiculous lusty fugue state and back to reality.
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine.” I still needed a place to live, after all. “Let’s do the tour. I’m feeling okay.”
He looked relieved at that—though I couldn’t understand why, given how unimpressed with me he seemed so far.
“Well, then.” He gave me a small smile. “Do come in, Miss Greenberg.”
I’d seen the pictures he’d sent, so I thought I’d been prepared for what waited for me inside. I saw immediately that the pictures hadn’t done the place justice.
I’d expected it to be fancy. And it was.