All I Want Is You by Toni Blake

had never seen the show, but she wished she had, or that she could—­and how wonderful it would be to have enough money to just jaunt off to the theater on a typical Thursday night. “Okay, I’m in,” she said. “But what if we’re drinking our Cokes and we meet guys who are going to see Phantom and they want to walk us over there?”
    â€œIf we meet guys without dates going to see Phantom, they’re gay, so it doesn’t matter. Now come on, let’s get dressed!”
    A S Jack painted dark wood stain onto the new section of door frame two evenings after kicking down the attached door, he realized why he liked working with his hands so much. It required focus, and it was the perfect distraction. From whatever a guy needed distraction from at any particular moment. And right now, what he needed distraction from was the cute blonde upstairs. The one with all the problems he had no interest in getting involved in. Other than door repair. Door repair he could handle. Why on earth was she on his mind that way?
    The sound of Aerosmith echoed from somewhere up the street as he worked, Steven Tyler’s gravelly voice singing about being jaded. The weather was fair and came with a breeze, which was good since the door would need to stay propped open until the new wood dried. But otherwise, the job was quick—­the one-­step stain he’d selected covered easily in a single coat and matched the older part of the frame well.
    When he was done, he stood back to admire his handiwork. At a glance, most ­people wouldn’t notice the door had ever been damaged. And he’d definitely made it stronger—­he hadn’t wanted to point this out to his pretty little neighbor, but the fact that he’d busted in the door so easily meant that pretty much anyone could. So at least there was an upside to all this, which was that she and her roommate would be safer now.
    â€œHey Alice,” he called up the stairs, “I’m done. Just need to leave the door open a few hours so this can dry.”
    She appeared at the top of the stairs, smiling. “Thank you again, Jack. This is so nice of you.” Then she glanced over her shoulder and pointed vaguely behind her. “Would you like a glass of iced tea? I just made it.”
    Jack weighed his options. He liked iced tea. But he probably should just go. “Thanks, but—­”
    â€œIf you say no, I’ll feel bad.” Her face took on an adorable pout he found surprisingly sexy. “It’s really the only way I have to thank you.”
    Aw hell. He held in a sigh and said, “Okay, sure, I’ll have a glass.”
    And her smile returned—­just before she disappeared from the landing, the words, “Great, come on up,” echoing down to him.
    This time he let out the sigh since she wasn’t there to see—­then stooped to balance the brush he’d just dipped in a jar of paint thinner atop the closed can of stain before climbing the stairs.
    He stepped into the living room where he’d been a ­couple of nights ago, and while he waited, he took in details about the room he hadn’t caught the first time. Furniture that had seen better days. A colorful cityscape painting on the mantel that topped an old, no-­longer-­functional fireplace, signed by Bethany Wills, who he guessed might be the roommate, especially since an easel and some blank canvases stood in one corner. Near the mantel sat an analog television set with a converter box on top. And on the couch, a velvety sort of tray that held a bunch of loose pearls and crystally-­looking beads. Next to it, some old necklaces that made him think of his grandmother lay stretched across one cushion, for some reason drawing his attention more than the other things in the room.
    So much that when Alice came back in with two tall glasses of iced tea, he pointed down at the jewelry. “Those look like