I shook my head. “That was my fault.” I frowned at the dirtied towels. “Is that okay? Do I need to let Dorian know it was my fault? They’re stained.”

He glanced down as if he didn’t know what I was talking about. Seeing the towels, his shoulders shook with laughter. “No. The money this place gets, they can afford a few stained towels. These will get tossed anyway.” He dropped them on a nearby table and held his hand out to me. “I’m Jake Parker. I’m on the seventh floor. You’re the new resident, right?”

I shook his hand. “I am. Third floor. I’m Addison—” I was about to say my married name, but heard myself saying instead, “—Bowman.” I’d told him my maiden name. Why did I do that—nope. I wasn’t going to analyze it. It was done.

“Addison Bowman?” He pulled out the chair across from me. “Do you mind?”

“No. Please, sit.”

He sat down, and I straightened up. It felt weird to be sitting with another man, even though he was a neighbor.

“You okay?” His voice was soft and concerned. He hunched forward, so he didn’t appear so tall. His eyes looked into mine, and they were warm, like heated chocolate. “I can go, if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“No.” I shook my head, holding a hand out. “Please stay. I mean it.”

“You sure?”

“I am.”

“Good.” He relaxed in his seat, kicking out one of his legs. He didn’t touch me, but six inches to the right and his leg would’ve been pressed right against mine.

“I’m a lawyer. My firm’s a couple blocks down.” A grin tugged at his lips. “Most of the partners have their own places outside the city, but I’m a workaholic. Figured it was better to be closer to work.”

“You’re a new partner?”

He nodded. “Two months. It paid to be there all the time.” Pride filled his voice. “How about you? What do you do?”

“Uh…” I looked at the table, for just a moment. “I’m a freelance writer. I used to do a column.”

“Used to?”

“I’ve taken some time off.”

“Breaks are good.” He lightened his tone, glancing around and frowning at the pool. “I’ve been in New York for work the last few weeks, and I’ve neglected working out.” His gaze swung back to mine. His eyes narrowed. “I’m surprised I haven’t run into you before now. When’d you move in?”

“Five weeks ago.”

His head bobbed up and down. “Oh yeah, and I’m sure you were probably busying unpacking and everything.”

I nodded, gesturing out the door to the gym on the other side of the hallway. “I saw another woman in there a few times.”

His grin widened. “Let me guess, she took off as soon as you walked in? And kept doing it, making you think you have a disease or something?”

“She did that to you, too?”

“Oh, yeah.” He rolled his eyes and began drumming his fingers on the table. “That’s Dawn, but that’s just how she is. She has to warm up to people. Gotta say, this place is perfect for her. Not many residents here. It’s exclusive, safe, and she’s protected. The first couple months I was here, that’s how she was. Then it switched. She started smiling, talking, and now we’ve hung out a couple times. There are a few of us who do dinners together. Dawn’s hosting the next one. I can ask her if you can come, but I’d be surprised if she okayed that. I’m doing the one after that. You should come to that one for sure. It’s next month. I’ve got a mean slow cooker, just to let you know.” He blew on his knuckles. “I’m known around these parts as Chef Slow Pot.”

A laugh burst out of me. “Thank you for that, Chef Slow Pot.”

“Mmm-hmmm. Ninja skills in the kitchen. I’m telling you.” He winked. “But seriously, don’t worry about Dawn. She’ll warm up to you, and you’ll find her buzzing your door with coffee every morning.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “She does that for you, huh?”

“No. She’ll do that for you.” He gestured to my empty cup on the table between us. “She tends to show up with wine at my place, when I’m home. Because of her thing with people, she sticks like glue to the ones she knows. I’m the wine-and-movie friend. Half the time she zonks out and sleeps on the couch.”

“You two are good friends?”

“I guess so. She’s fun. Wicked obsessed with The Walking Dead.” He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. “I know Dawn and I are single. How about you? There’s a couple on the fifth floor, and the only other resident I’ve met is Derek. He’s an IT guy, so if you’ve got computer problems, he’s below me on the sixth floor.”

“What floor is Dawn?”

“Second. I don’t know who’s on the fourth floor.” He pointed to the ceiling. “And the big boss, too. I’ve not met him.”

My mind was spinning, doing the math. “So there’s you on seven, IT guy on six, a couple on five, four is a question mark, I’m three, and Dawn’s on two. Who’s the big boss? He’s not on four?”

“No way. I’m sorry. I meant the owner. He’s got the top three floors in here.”

There were those three black buttons in the elevator. “Who’s the owner?”