The rumble of plastic wheels on concrete followed Keira O’Ryan down the driveway. It was her own fault she would be late for her meeting. Once again, she’d procrastinated and left the task for the morning.

Keira jumped at the faint sound of the AirDrop notification and the accompanying vibration of the cell in her skirt pocket. The black trash can slipped out of her hand as the wheels caught the crack that stretched across the gray pavement. It hit the ground with a loud thud, and two bags rolled out. Keira ignored them.

She scanned the street in front of her townhouse. He had to be there. Somewhere.

Her pulse pounded, drowning the sounds of the cars swooshing past. On the edge of the downtown area, the one-way road was a popular morning shortcut to avoid the congested major routes.

A handful of people strode along the sidewalk on both sides of the street. They were all dressed in office attire paired with comfortable running shoes. A few carried briefcases, while most had backpacks slung over one shoulder. Not one stood out. They were all on their way to work.

Keira inhaled a deep, calming breath and scrutinized the area once more. He had to be close by to have sent her a pic.

She had received the first AirDrop photo at a business event two months ago—a close-up of her, coffee cup raised to her lips. She’d shrugged off the next few photos, figuring a colleague had just discovered the feature. After all, she had turned it off, not seeing any use for it, until Livi, her best friend’s teenage daughter, had mentioned she used it all the time.

As a PR specialist for college athletes who needed their image tweaked and sometimes totally transformed, Keira kept current with trends. So, she turned on the feature and began coaching her clients on using it positively to promote themselves.

It quickly became annoying when the familiar tone alerting her to a new AirDrop photo interrupted every business event, sending another photo of her. At first, she had passed it off as a harmless office prank—someone vying to top the Wi-Fi speaker hidden in the managing partner’s office that had emitted a kitten’s soft meow every hour. They’d spent half an hour searching for the kitten before his intern had spotted the speaker.

Then the frequency had increased, and with it, a feeling of unease that it wasn’t a joke. Someone was watching her.

Keira took another deep breath to steady herself before fishing her cell out of her pocket. She stared at the thumbnail of her taking out the garbage.

Whoever sent her the photos had shifted his attention to her personal life. No one at her small PR firm would cross that line.

Her finger hovered over “decline.” Keep a record, just in case.

In case of what? Her last year of college was ten years in the past. Too long ago for Eric, her then-boyfriend, and his two friends to make good on their promise.

You’re ours. We’re not finished with you.

An icy shiver rolled through Keira. What if she was wrong?

She tapped “accept.”

This wasn’t an office prank.

Spooked by the number of AirDrop pics yesterday, she’d researched “stalkers” last night. From what she’d learned, the police would need every bit of evidence to find out who was sending her the photos.

Going to the police would mean opening the door to her past. One that Keira wanted to keep firmly shut, but the sleepless nights as she lay awake worrying were affecting her job. Fortunately, no one had noticed. Yet.

She loved her work with Milano and Lake. The partners, Aldo Milano and Ian Lake, wanted to take the firm in a new direction, and they’d asked her to become a partner. Media attention could negatively affect the offer if someone found out she was being stalked. Becoming a partner was a dream come true for Keira, and she wouldn’t give it up easily.

After her morning meeting, she’d talk to a few private investigation firms. She’d hire someone discreet who would open the door only a crack. Just wide enough to find out if the three frat brothers had found her.

Keira looked down at the photo on her cell and enlarged it. On the top left-hand side, the passenger window frame across from the driver was just visible. The creep rolled down his window and sent the shot as he passed her townhouse. He was long gone, but she couldn’t shake the feeling someone was still watching her.

Keira sighed and looked down at the trash can and the bags at her feet.

The sound of a garage door opening yanked her back to the present. She stuffed her cell back into her pocket and inwardly groaned. As if her morning couldn’t get any worse.

Her new neighbor walked down the driveway, his trash can trailing behind him. She should have done the neighborly thing and introduced herself when he’d moved in two weeks ago, but organizing an event for a client had taken up all her time.

Her mother would shudder at her rudeness. But then, her mother would have rushed over the day he moved in, freshly baked apple pie in hand, so that she could get the goods on the man.

Keira hadn’t inherited her mother’s natural gift for cooking. She didn’t think a latte and biscotti from the neighborhood coffeehouse would have been enough of a bribe to get the lowdown on the gorgeous man walking toward her.

Two years ago, Keira had purchased the end unit in the row of three-story modern townhouses done in gray brick with white accents. The unit next to her had been vacant for three months. It had been ridiculously overpriced for the massive amount of needed interior work, and the owners had refused to lower the asking price. Keira had been surprised it had sold, especially to a single guy.

She had caught glimpses of the man a few times. Okay, if she was to be honest, more like ogled him through the blinds. There was nothing wrong with appreciating the guy’s muscular body. His light beard stubble added to his ruggedly handsome face, making it even more striking.

At thirty-two, she had resigned herself to living alone. She’d accepted that she wasn’t relationship material. When a relationship moved forward, the spark had always fizzled. She knew her tangled history with Eric left her wary of commitment.

Her neighbor took in her toppled can and the bags at Keira’s feet as he approached. He stopped, then crossed the thin strip of green grass separating her driveway from his.

Oh, no. Keira had no time to do the neighborly chitchat thing. She had to hurry if she wanted to arrive on time for her meeting, but she could hear her mother’s voice, reminding her of the importance of good manners.

“Good morning.” Keira plastered a bright smile on her face.

“I see your trash can didn’t make it.” The man pointed to the crack that ran across her driveway. “Let me give you a hand.”

Despite the warm July morning, her temperature rose a degree higher at the sound of his voice, smooth as velvet and deep enough to lose yourself.

“No, it’s okay. It’s really not a big deal,” Keira stammered as he came closer. She plucked a bag off the ground. Good grief. She was a thirty-two-year-old grown woman acting like a sixteen-year-old. What had gotten into her?

“No trouble,” he said, stood her trash can back up, and moved closer.

“Thank you.” Keira threw the bag into the can.

“I’ll get the other bag.”

“I’ve got it,” Keira said. The toes of his shoes came into view as she bent and snatched the second bag, beating him to it.

She stood and smiled once more. The bag split open, dumping the remains of last night’s spaghetti dinner over the man’s shoes.

A small mound of spaghetti covered one of the stylish light brown leather loafers. Three lonely strands amidst a hearty dollop of pasta clung to the other.

Horrified, Keira stared as he tapped his foot, and the fistful of spaghetti slid off his shoe. “I’m… I’m so, so sorry.”

She knew good quality; the loafers weren’t a cheap chain store brand. Neither was his light gray suit. Thank goodness spaghetti sauce hadn’t splashed onto his pants. 

“No damage done. I’ve stepped in worse,” he replied, shaking the spaghetti strands off the other shoe. He held out his hand. “Cade. Cade Hartford.”

Keira quickly tossed the remains of the bag into the can and shook his hand. “Keira O’Ryan.”

“Stop,” Cade said, his hand out. “Don’t move.”

Keira stiffened, her fight-or-flight reflex flooding her with adrenaline.

“Your shoe,” Cade said and pointed to her right shoe. “A couple of spaghetti strands landed on your shoe.”

“Crap, I just bought these,” Keira exclaimed and felt her cheeks flush. She hoped Cade hadn’t caught her overreaction to his innocent comment. The AirDrop photo she’d just received had shredded her nerves. She needed to pull herself together.

“I’ll be right back,” Cade said.

Keira watched as he strode to his garage, aware of the limp she’d noticed when he’d first moved in. She wondered how he’d injured his leg and whether it was permanent.

Despite the limp, Cade moved with the grace and confidence of a panther, power coiled beneath the perfectly tailored suit jacket and pants.

A minute later, Cade returned with a roll of paper towels, a bag, a dustpan, and a broom that had seen better days. “This should do it.”

“Wow, seems like you’re prepared for anything,” Keira said, accepting the paper towel he held out.

“The previous owner left the stuff in the garage,” Cade said, then ripped another sheet off the roll to clean his shoes.

She was glad she’d decided on navy heels instead of white to match the print in her wrap skirt. The spaghetti sauce would have stained the white shoes.

“Thanks,” Keira said, dropping the paper towel into the organics bag Cade held out. “So other than having a healthy respect of staying clear of me on garbage day, how are you finding our neighborhood?”

The corners of his eyes turned up in amusement. “Much better than the small studio apartment downtown that cost a small fortune. I was lucky to find this place. There aren’t many townhouses along the riverbank up for sale. The view of the river is incredible.”

“It’s even better when you’re running,” Keira said, then realized her faux pas and glanced at his injured leg. Her cheeks burned. She couldn’t believe she’d been so insensitive.

“I look forward to checking out the running trails once my leg heals. I twisted my knee playing basketball,” Cade explained, rescuing her, then motioned to last night’s meal defacing her driveway. “There’s enough space in the driveway to steer around this mess. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you, but I don’t want you late to work on my account. I’ll pick up the worst and deal with the rest when I get home.” She was late, but Keira didn’t want to leave Cade with a mess she’d made.

“I’ve got plenty of time. I’ll move the can to the curb so it’s easier for you to pull out your car,” Cade said, grabbing the can’s handle. The loud, rhythmic sound of the wheels ended any further conversation as he headed down the driveway.

Keira hopped in her car, turned on the ignition, and pulled into the driveway. She pulled out her cell and set it in the cup holder as she watched the garage door close behind her in the rearview mirror. She rolled her passenger window down before turning onto the street.

“Thanks,” she shouted to Cade as she passed him, feeling guilty she hadn’t stayed and pitched in. He waved back.

Keira slowed as she approached the stop sign two blocks away. Her cell buzzed, and the familiar AirDrop notification filled the car.

Ignoring her hands-free rule while driving, Keira scooped the cell out of the cupholder. She drew in a sharp breath and tapped “accept.”

The guy in the car behind her honked his horn. Keira ignored him.

Shaking, she looked down at the thumbnail on her cell. It was a picture of her smiling at Cade.