“I see.”

“Which is why it’s so ridiculous to get upset. He doesn’t say or do anything terrible. And I thought I’d get rid of him when I had my telephone number changed, but no such luck. Anyway, I would hardly have been out here in the hall if I’d thought anyone was going to be around.” Greer dropped her fork, rubbed her palm on the thigh of her robe and whipped out her hand with a determinedly friendly smile. “Greer here. Mostly because my mother was a frustrated actress. Lothrup’s the last name. And you’re…?”

“Becoming rapidly exhausted,” he said flatly. His palm enclosed hers. His hand was very warm, very callused, and he withdrew it very, very quickly.

Greer repressed a smile. The fury had clearly left his eyes, and a deliriously wicked twinkle had replaced it. Well. An exasperated twinkle perhaps, but there was humor in there somewhere. “I really am a very good neighbor,” she assured him gravely. “You can ask the guys upstairs. I mean, your business is your business. I pick up mail and water plants, when people are on vacation. Deliver chicken soup when someone has a cold. Generally keep the cat I’ve never seen in my life out of sight. In a pinch, I’m not opposed to sewing on a button. Not to imply that men aren’t fully capable…”

She had to stop for breath, which was probably just as well since she seemed to be chattering like a nervous mynah bird. Most people found Greer reserved on first meeting. But then, most people didn’t meet her after one of her confrontations with The Breather. And whether the stranger meant to or not, he was winning an awful lot of brownie points by keeping his attention above her neck while they talked.

There was a dance of amusement in his eyes as he motioned for her to continue eating. “I get the message,” he said gravely, “but somehow I have trouble picturing you in the role of resident housemother.”

Wrong, sweetie, Greer thought with amusement. Other men had made the same mistake, and Greer had no doubts she could set her new neighbor straight in time.