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and she gathered them. Usually she loved her work with the women at Heart’s Home, but that afternoon, it was hard to focus. And every now and then her mind would wander to her handsome, hard-bodied, good-smelling, obnoxious, stuck-up, uptight neighbor. He certainly wasn’t uptight in his bedroom. Well, at least she assumed he wasn’t, based on the noises his guests made. And despite her willing it not to, her imagination conjured images of what it might be like to be with a powerful, driven man like that. A man who knew what he wanted and knew how to get it. So unlike Jason.
    Stop! She shook her head.
    “Maybe you should go over and ask him nicely to keep the noise down,” Blanche suggested.
    “I think you should report him to the building security,” Betty said, wiping paint on the front of her apron.
    “I think she needs to ignore it. Reporting him will only make him mad,” Bernice added.
    “I’ll tell ya what she needs to do. She needs to march over to that man’s apartment and make some noise of her own with him.”
    “Gladys!” a chorus of three female voices shouted. Mia simply gasped.
    “Aw, fiddlesticks. I know what I’m talking about. Whenever I felt blue, my husband Tom knew precisely how to make me all better.” She winked and the women cast sideways glances from each other, to Mia, and then back to Gladys, who paid them no mind. “I miss Tom. He had the biggest—”
    “Stop!” Betty interrupted.
    “ Heart , for chrissake, Betty. He had the biggest heart. What did you think I was gonna say?” Gladys arched a gray eyebrow and tapped her knitting needles together.
    “I appreciate all the advice, but honestly, I think I need to go home and sleep. I have lots of time before he gets home and starts his shenanigans. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    “Ask him to stop.”
    “Report him.”
    “Ignore him.”
    “Bed him.”
    “Gladys!” Three voices admonished in unison.
    Mia stifled a giggle as she stepped out onto the street. She had come to love the Queen B’s. Unfortunately, the job didn’t pay much, and the only way she could afford to continue working there would be to complete her next series of paintings that the Heart’s Home owners had commissioned for one of their other properties. That meant going home. Home it was.
    As she emerged from the subway station, a sleek, black limousine pulled up to her building a block away. It was too far away to see clearly, but it was undoubtedly Michael Anderson and Clancy who stepped out on the curb. Figures he’d travel by limo.
    As she got closer, though, she noticed something wasn’t right. His suit was soiled and even torn in a few places. His hair was mussed and he had a smudge on his cheek. Perfect Michael Anderson looked anything but perfect. And Clancy was a mess, partially covered in something black and gooey.
    The moment he noticed her, Michael’s eyes narrowed. So be it. Two could play this game. “Rough day at the office, Mr. Anderson?” she taunted as she breezed past him toward the door.
    “Yes, actually. It has been a rough morning—preceded by a rough night.”
    Mia stopped before she reached the door. The limo pulled away, and somehow the man and dog seemed even more pitiful without the opulent backdrop of the shiny car. Pitiful and irritating. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh. Poor thing. Did one of your houseguests keep you up all night?”
    A confused expression crossed his face, and then he laughed, dimples appearing. “Ha. No. But had that been the case, I’m sure you could have fixed it with some Weird Al Yankovic on continuous loop blasting from your apartment.”
    He looked younger out here in the sunlight, his clothes all out of order. And his smile was gorgeous, dammit. Her insides did a little flip as she remembered how he smelled and felt yesterday. Nope. Not going there. “There’s a groomer just up the street. You could both use a bath and possibly a flea dip.” Not as good as his leash line