“You must have run track in high school. I could barely keep up." He sounded slightly out of breath, which she hoped was only because of their mad dash up the stairs.

“Nope.” Kate fiddled with her key in the lock. Turn already, she thought. “I was a cheerleader. You know. Give me a G-O-O-D-N-I-G-H-T. Goodnight!”

He smiled, making Kate understand why other women considered him a heartbreaker. His blue eyes and pale complexion presented a striking complement to his curly, ink-black hair. His pedigree was top-notch, too. He hailed from a fine Charleston family that contributed heavily to the arts. Drew himself was a concert violinist.

“I like you,” he said. “You’re funny.”

Kate shut her mouth. She did not want to be funny.

“I had a nice time tonight,” he continued.

She narrowed her eyes. Hadn’t he noticed that they’d failed to find a topic of mutual interest? He’d changed the subject every time she mentioned interior design, and her eyes had glazed over when he opined about which of Beethoven’s sonatas were superior.

“I’d like to see you again.” Drew flattened his palm against her apartment door and leaned over her. The cloying scent of cologne engulfed her. “How about Saturday night?”

Before she could refuse, his head descended, his mouth leading the way. His sudden motion blocked the light, causing everything to turn black. Without thinking, Kate lifted her foot and connected with his instep.

“Ow,” he cried out, jumping back a full foot. “What did you do that for?”

“Did it occur to you I might not want you to kiss me?” she hissed.

“Did it occur to you to tell me to stop?” His pretty blue eyes watered. "You didn't have to resort to violence."

“Stepping on a foot isn’t exactly assault and battery.”

He didn’t respond, and the remorse that had been slow in coming finally arrived. With his pout and his unhappy eyes, he looked as harmless as a puppy who'd been kicked. She grimaced. Bad date or not, how could she have gone on the attack like that?

“I’m sorry,” Kate said, trying for sincerity. Drew stared, his lower lip thrust forward in a pout.

"Im really sorry," she said. “How can I make it up to you?”

He pressed his lips together, and she heard him blow air through his nose. “I’d suggest an assault-free date, but I’m not taking any more chances. Tell you what. If you decide you want to see me again, you call me.”

He disappeared down the hallway, limping slightly, his right hand raised in a harmless salute. She frowned, aware she may have overreacted.

Drew paused at the mouth of the staircase. She tensed, ready to overreact again if he reversed course. But he merely moved aside, as though allowing someone to pass.

That was odd. Kate hadn’t heard footsteps on the wooden stairs, and the owner of the only other apartment on this floor was a salesman on extended assignment to the west coast.

Curious, Kate waited. The hallway passage was softly lit so that she was slow in recognizing the features of the man who walked toward her. She squinted.

Could it be ... Riley Carter?

For an instant, she thought she’d dredged him up from her subconscious, where he’d been lurking more than usual since this December had rolled around. But she couldn’t mistake his self-assured, unhurried way of moving. Or his tall, muscular frame. Or that thick head of brown hair.

It was Riley Carter.

Her heart pounded. He had to be here because of her. Nobody else lived on this floor, and it was nearly ten o’clock on a Tuesday night.

Heat started to flood her body, the way it used to whenever he came anywhere near, but then she remembered all the days and nights she’d waited in vain for him to show up and beg her forgiveness.

A year ago, she’d have welcomed him into her apartment — and her bed — no matter what time he showed up. Eleven months ago, he probably could have convinced her to take him back.

But his window of opportunity had closed a long time ago. It might have taken her a while to get over him, but she had. She wouldn’t let the bittersweet memories of the long, hot nights they’d shared last December ruin this year’s holidays. She was dating again. She was happy.

She stiffened her spine, crossed her arms over her chest and resolved not to be affected by the sexual chemistry that had always flared so brightly between them.

“Hey, Kate, how’s it going?” He sounded as though he’d seen her only yesterday.

She told herself she didn't find his slow, southern drawl sexy and willed her voice to sound cool. “Are you familiar with the saying, ‘Too little, too late?’ ”

He rubbed his chin as he considered her. It was a nice chin, square and regular. Taken individually, none of his features — lean cheeks, straight nose, firm mouth, light-brown hair, dark-brown eyes — were outstanding. Put together, they packed a visual punch that used to make her legs go weak. She locked her knees.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I am familiar with it.”

“Then it won’t come as any surprise to you that I've moved on.”

He cocked his head, a corner of his well-shaped mouth lifting. “I thought you still lived here.”

“Not moved,” Kate said impatiently. “Moved on. As in moved on to other men.”

“Okay.”

She lifted her chin, ignoring the part of her that was disappointed he hadn't cried out in protest. “You probably passed one of the men I'm dating on the stairs.”

“The limping guy?”

His eyes were round and innocent but she couldn't shake the impression that he’d heard what had gone on between her and Drew. Great. Just great.

“Drew is only one of the men I'm dating,” she said airily. “There are others.”

“Good for you.”

He smiled at her then, causing the laugh lines around his mouth and eyes to deepen. He looked so attractive her patience snapped. She wouldn’t let herself fall for him again.

“Look, it’s late and I’m tired.” She got her door unlocked, pushed it open and stepped partway inside her apartment. “You wasted your time coming over here.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he said in a low drawl that rumbled through her.

“I did say that,” she said, just to be contrary. “Goodnight, Riley.”

“Goodnight, Kate,” he said agreeably, not even trying to stop her from going inside. Not that he could.

She was about to shut the door in his face when she noticed him moving deeper into the building. Away from the staircase. Sticking her head into the hall, she watched him take something that jingled out of his pocket.

His key ring.

She felt her mouth drop open as he used one of the keys to unlock the apartment next door.

“What are you doing?” she asked, although she feared she already knew.

“Subletting the apartment next door,” he said with a wink. “Goodnight, neighbor.”