Maintenance & Management (Naughty at the Nouveau)

Welcome home to The Nouveau: Luxury apartment living at its naughtiest.

Having a man stand over my desk, shaking a uniform shirt in my face, is not how I imagined starting my first day as property manager. The man in question? He works here, too, and he apparently has boundary issues.

I’ve got news for this guy: I may be smaller than him, but I’m not intimidated by him. Maybe he’s intimidated by me. A lot of men can’t handle having a woman for a boss, let alone a younger woman. That’s his problem, not mine.

I was hired to do a job and I intend to do it—just as soon as I can peel my eyes off his wide chest and those artistically tatted, exquisitely muscled arms.

His hands . . . they’re so big. All of him is big. And tall. And grumpy. And gorgeous.

On top of working with him every day, I’m going to be living right across the hall from him?

I’m fine. Everything’s fine.

There is no way I’m going to jeopardize this position I’ve worked so hard for over some deep-voiced, walking statue of a man. I don’t care how many bookshelves he builds me.

And speaking of positions, I’m not getting myself into any compromising ones on the roof with him. Or in his apartment. Or mine. Or an electrical closet . . .

She’s the new property manager. He’s the new maintenance supervisor. They rub each other the wrong way—until they start to rub each other the right way.

Oh, so very right.