Page 8 of My CEO Neighbor (Neighborhood Hotties #5)

The words were out before Monica could stop them, bold and reckless and completely unlike anything she'd ever said to a man she barely knew. But sitting in the darkness with Ted, feeling the weight of his attention and the heat of his proximity, being careful felt less important than being honest.

She was tired of being careful. Tired of being alone. Tired of pretending she didn't notice how attractive he was, how much she wanted to know what his mouth would feel like against hers.

"Monica." Ted warned.

"What?"

"Don't say things like that unless you mean them."

"Who says I don't mean them?"

Ted was quiet for a long moment, and Monica could hear his breathing, faster now, less controlled. When he spoke again, his voice was closer, like he'd leaned toward her.

"You don't know me."

"I know enough."

"You know that I'm a workaholic with control issues and a caffeine addiction."

"I know that you care about your employees. I know that you're harder on yourself than anyone else could ever be. I know that you dropped out of school to chase what you believed in, and you've been proving yourself ever since."

"Monica..."

"I know that you're sitting in the dark with a woman you barely tolerate, and instead of complaining or checking out completely, you're actually talking to me. Really talking."

"Maybe that's because you're not who I thought you were."

"Who did you think I was?"

"Someone who had life figured out. Someone who never doubted herself or stayed awake at night wondering if she was making the right choices."

Monica laughed softly, the sound intimate in the darkness. "I stayed awake until three last night wondering if I should raise my class prices or if that would price out the students who actually need yoga most."

"And what did you decide?"

"That some problems don't have perfect solutions."

"Now you tell me."

They were both quiet for a moment, and Monica became aware that they'd somehow shifted closer to each other during their conversation.

"For what it's worth, I think you're going to be fine. With or without Dexter Capital."

"How can you possibly know that?"

"Because anyone who cares as much as you do doesn't just give up. You'll find another way."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you'll find something else worth caring about."

Ted was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Is that what happened to you?"

"Yeah," Monica said. "I think it is."

The silence that followed felt different from the ones before—not awkward or charged, but comfortable. Like they'd reached some kind of understanding that didn't require words.

Then Ted's phone buzzed.

They both jumped, and Ted fumbled for the device, the sudden light harsh after so much darkness.

"Battery's at five percent," Ted said, squinting at the screen. "And I've got one bar of service."

"Call someone."

"Who? My assistant already knows where I am, and there's nothing anyone can do until the power comes back."

"Call someone who'll worry about you."

Ted stared at his phone, and Monica saw that maybe there wasn't anyone who would worry about him beyond a professional capacity. The expression was so vulnerable, so lonely, that it made Monica ache.

How long had it been since someone had worried about her? Really worried, not just professional courtesy but genuine concern for her wellbeing?

"You know what," Ted said, switching off the phone, "let's save it. In case there's a real emergency."

The darkness returned, and Monica felt the intimacy settle around them again like a blanket.

"Thank you. For the breathing thing. And for talking."

"You're welcome."

"I'm not usually good at talking."

"You're better at it than you think."

Monica heard Ted shift position, and suddenly his shoulder touched hers, warm and solid and reassuring. She should probably move away, preserve some professional distance, but the elevator felt less claustrophobic with Ted's presence anchoring her.

And she was so tired of being alone. So tired of going home to an empty apartment, of eating dinner by herself, of falling asleep without anyone to share her day with. The simple contact of Ted's shoulder against hers felt like coming alive after months of just existing.

"How much longer do you think we'll be stuck here?" Ted asked.

Monica checked her watch, though she couldn't see it in the darkness. "A few more hours, probably."

"Good."

"Good?"

"I mean..." Ted paused. "It's not good that we're trapped. But if we have to be trapped somewhere, this isn't the worst company."

Monica felt that dangerous flutter again, stronger this time. "Careful, Ted. That almost sounded like a compliment."

"Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late."

Ted laughed, and her toes curled. She was in trouble. Big, complicated, what-happens-when-the-lights-come-back-on trouble.

But sitting in the darkness with Ted's shoulder pressed against hers, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing and the weight of everything they'd shared, Monica found she didn't mind being in trouble nearly as much as she should have.

For the first time in months, she didn't feel alone.