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the Uber pulled up in front of her apartment building in the un -gentrified end of Potts Point, her pulse all aflutter from Tanner’s thigh being pressed up against the length of hers for the duration. He’d insisted on escorting her, then insisted on sitting in the back, even though the car that had shown up he could probably pick up and shove in his pocket.
    Thank God she hadn’t had far to go.
    She practically sprang out of the vehicle to get away from him. His cologne had been wrapping her up in sticky tentacles, and it had been an exercise in self-control not to turn her face into his neck and inhale how good he still smelled.
    She wasn’t sure what he was wearing these days, but she was pretty sure it was the French word for “melts women into puddles.”
    Unfortunately, Tanner followed her out of the Uber.
    “What are you doing?” she demanded as the car drove off.
    “I’m seeing you to your door.”
    “I’m fine,” she dismissed.
    He sighed patiently. “If you don’t mind me saying,” he said, looking up at the facade of her ten-story building, with the faded and peeling white paint, and the splashes of graffiti, “this isn’t exactly the most salubrious area. I’d feel better knowing you got inside safe and sound. In case there are any…undesirable elements hanging around, lurking in the hallways.”
    “You think Bonner Hayden’s going to jump out from around a corner and wiggle his wang at me?”
    He laughed. “I’m pretty sure he’s wiggled his last wang.”
    Matilda doubted it. He’d only copped a fine, not even one lousy match suspension. “Look. It’s okay. Really. The neighbourhood might seem a little dodgy, but I’ve been here for five years, and it’s mainly older residents who have been here for fifty. It’s perfectly safe. Go home.”
    He folded his arms. “I’m going to have to ask you to humour me a little more.”
    He sounded like a policeman—polite but unshiftable. All he needed was the “ma’am.”
    She knew from experience that Tanner couldn’t be physically moved—he was too damn big. And she so did not want to be having this conversation on the footpath.
    “Suit yourself.” She shrugged, turning on her heel and walking up the pathway to the glass entry doors, through the shadows of an overarching avenue of Jacaranda trees.
    “They need to put better lighting out here,” Tanner griped as he followed. “Anybody could be lying in wait.”
    Matilda ignored him as she headed for the entrance, grateful when she was able to push them open and step inside. There was no doorman—it wasn’t that kind of place—just rows and rows of mailboxes and an ancient lift.
    “Satisfied now?” she asked, turning to face him as she pushed the lift button. She could tell from the light above it was on the ground floor, but she knew from experience it took the doors a while to crank open. “Safely inside.”
    He shook his head. “I said I’ll see you to your door .”
    Irritation prickled under her skin. She’d been coming in and out of her apartment without an escort for a long time—day and night. If he’d been flirting with her all evening in the hope of ending up in her bed, he was sorely mistaken.
    “If this is some ploy to get into my apartment and then into my pants, you’re completely delusional.”
    “I was thinking more along the lines of checking for hidden ninjas.”
    The lift door cracked open on a groan.
    She folded her arms and tapped her foot. She wasn’t in the mood for his jokes. He held his hands up in mock surrender, a slight smile playing on his lips. “I promise I won’t even try to”—his gaze dropped to her mouth—“kiss you.”
    Matilda’s mouth tingled under his intense scrutiny, and all she could think about as the lift opened, inch by noisy inch, was Tanner kissing her.
    She’d been kissed by other men. Some had been most excellent kisses, even if none of them had worked out. But this was Tanner, her first love—the gold standard