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over the radio. “Stop jamming up the lines fucking around, please!”
    Erin just laughed. “Sir, yes, sir!”
    The apartment building that I stopped in front of was a gorgeous gothic building with wide, silver letters that read The Kyle Building. I locked my bike and pulled out a legal envelope as I headed for the door, which was propped open by a portly, middle-aged man in a red coat with brass buttons.
    “Delivery?” he asked when I passed.
    “Yeah, for a … ” I glanced down at the envelope. “Sullivan Collins.”
    “Mr. Collins is on the sixteenth floor.” He motioned to the elevator well. “You can find your way up just over there.”
    “Thanks…” I glanced down at his shiny name tag, “George.”
    “Happy to help, Miss.” He smiled with a tip of his hat.
    I couldn’t help but smile back as I headed for the elevator, a little lighter. Most people saw messengers as a nuisance, annoyed by the inconvenience of our presence, so when someone actually treated you like a person, it was like getting a full-sized Milky Way in your trick-or-treat bag.  
    Once in the elevator, I pulled out my iPad to check the next address, then opened the app for the signature. The elevator doors opened, and I walked briskly to 1622, where I knocked on the door with my mind already routing me to my next job.
    But then the door opened, and every single thought left me, along with my ability to function.
    It was him.
    The image in my mind from the roof hadn’t even remotely done him justice. I stood for what could have been seconds or minutes with my mouth hanging open as I stared at him, lingering on his eyes, rich brown and gold with flecks of green. His hair was dark, almost black, pushed back from his face, the sides shaved short. The line of his jaw, his brow, his lips pulled into a smile, every curve on his face told me something supremely fucked up.
    He’d planned the meeting.
    I took a step back, my voice low when I broke the silence. “What in the fuck?”
    “I, ah …” He ran a hand through his hair, even though it hadn’t moved. His smile faltered as he looked down at me.
    “How the fuck did you find me?” I demanded with my body wound tight.
    “Listen, I—”
    “ How did you find me?”
    He shifted on his feet, and his voice lowered a hair, his body tightening at my response. “Chase— I mean, a parkour buddy of mine knows one of your friends, recognized her the other night. We figured out who the rest of you were, and then … well, you weren’t hard to track down.”
    Every neuron in my brain fired at once. “This is the single most creepy fucking thing that has ever happened to me.” I handed him the envelope and iPad. “Sign for this.”
    He didn’t take it, just shook his head and looked at his shoes when he raked a hand through his hair again. “Fuck,” he whispered. “I’d somehow convinced myself that this was romantic.”
    “Wrong answer. Sign this.” I pushed them at him, nudging him in the chest.
    His eyes locked onto mine. “Just come inside for one second so I can explain.”
    “I’m working, and you’re fucking crazy. I’m not coming inside. Now fucking sign this or I’m leaving with your delivery.”
    His lips were a flat line as he nodded and took the iPad and envelope. When he stepped back into his apartment and looked at me with an apology behind his eyes, I realized my mistake. “I’ll sign it after you come in and let me explain. Give me five minutes.”  
    My nostrils flared. He was hot, so hot, but I couldn’t even fathom what he had gone through to find me. The sick part was that a tiny slice of me wanted to see him again. How could I not after shocking, confusing, adrenaline-fueled random sex on a rooftop? But he’d taken ‘creep’ to the next level. I wanted to leave, to get the fuck out and run. But he knew my name and where I worked. He had my fucking iPad. And I had a feeling he wasn’t going to give it up until I heard him out.
    “You have five