Flirt With Me (With Me in Seattle 17)

“Why don’t you show it to me?” he counters and holds his hand out for mine.

“Sure, if you’d rather. I just like to give prospective buyers a chance to look at their own pace.” I find myself with my hand in his as we wander through the house. “Well, as you can see, the view is okay.”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” He shakes his head. “It’s fucking brilliant.”

I shrug, not wanting to tell him how much I agree. “If you like that sort of thing.”

I turn and gesture to the kitchen and living space.

“The owners updated the kitchen just a couple of years ago, so you have your pot filler above the stove, a deep farmhouse sink, and all of the bells and whistles, including a built-in coffee maker.”

My dream coffee maker.

“The house is only about four-thousand square feet, so it’s smaller than some of the others you’ve seen.”

“I don’t need anything huge,” he says as he follows me up the stairs, and I hear him inhale sharply when we get to the top. “I like this space.”

I glance around at the second living space. The staging company has it set up with a pool table, a wet bar, and a gaming place for the kids.

I would clear all of this out and make it a fabulous reading and relaxing space.

“There are three bedrooms on this level, including the master. The master suite is situated on the entire left side of the house.”

I guide him through French doors that lead into the master bedroom, and step to the glass doors that open to the balcony beyond.

“Wow,” he says as he steps outside with me and stares at the waves crashing below. “This is incredible.”

“The waves are a little loud,” I point out.

“I would keep the doors open and fall asleep to the sound of it.”

So would I.

“It would get awfully cold in there.” I gesture with my thumb to the bedroom.

“I’ll just get a heated mattress pad and a nice, thick blanket, and it’ll be fine.”

I ignore that comment because that’s precisely what I would do. Instead, I walk back inside to show him the rest.

“There are two separate master closets,” I inform him. “A his and hers, so to speak, which I think is odd.”

Or, you know, absolutely amazing.

“I think it’s nice,” he says, checking them out. “I have a lot of gear that I don’t want mixing with other things, so it would work well.”

Well, crap.

I follow him into the master bath and wait as he looks at the walk-in shower and the amazing tub with a view of the water behind it.

My heart sings when I walk through this house. This bathroom is everything. But I don’t want him to think that.

“The tub is kind of small,” I point out. “You’re a big guy. You’d need more room.”

He eyes the tub dubiously. It sits in the corner of the room with wide windows that look out to the water.

I’ve daydreamed about the bubble baths I’d take in this room.

“I think it looks plenty big.”

I climb inside and sit. “See? It’s barely big enough for me. And you’re much bigger than I am.”

He taps his finger to his lips, and then, to my utter shock, he just climbs right in with me.

“We both fit.”

I stare at him, blinking. “It’s a little tight in here.”

Before I can get out, Hunter tugs me into his lap and cups my face. “What is it about you?” He murmurs, his eyes on my lips.

I can’t help but lean into him. God, he just feels so good.

“This is kind of inappropriate,” I whisper. I don’t sound convincing even to my ears.

“Why?”

“Because you’re my client.”

He sighs and watches his thumb as it makes circles on the apple of my cheek.

“You know, I can respect that you’re trying to be professional,” he says softly. “I get that. But we’re both adults here, Maeve.”

He lifts his eyebrow, and I nod in agreement. “True. We are.”

“And it’s not like I’ll be your client forever. Just until I find my house.”

I can’t help but nod. He’s not wrong. I don’t have to worry about a long-term working relationship with this man.

“That’s true, too.”

He leans in and kisses my forehead. Not my lips, like I expected. No, he kisses my forehead. And somehow, that’s almost more intimate than the meeting of lips.

I swallow. Hunter takes a deep breath.

“Should we continue the tour?” I ask.

“Good idea.” He lifts me off of his lap and helps me out of the tub. “Where are the other bedrooms?”

“There are two on the other side of the house, and there’s a mother-in-law apartment above the garage.”

“Rachel will love that,” he mutters.

Rachel? Who’s Rachel?

He’d asked me if I was taken yesterday, and we’ve flirted like it’s our job. Hell, just thirty seconds ago in the tub, I would have sworn we’d had a special moment when all this time he’s had a woman in his life named Rachel?