“Lucky for some,” he says as he slips the key into the lock and pushes it open, entering first. He’s taking this modern man thing too far now. “The owner is away on business, so we have the place all to ourselves.” Another cheesy grin.
“Great.” I step inside and gaze around, my eyes naturally falling to the floor-to-ceiling windows on one side. It’s not quite the level of James’s floating glass box, but it’s probably about as much as I can expect for my budget. “Amazing view,” I say, approaching the glass and taking in the skyline.
Dean joins me, holding out an envelope. “The details.”
I accept, despite already having them. “What’s the owner’s position?” I ask, backing up and heading to the kitchen space across the room.
“He’s not in a rush to sell.”
I smile, opening a few cupboards. Translated: don’t try to knock him down on the price. “But I’m a cash buyer and ready to move quickly,” I point out, running the tap. “That carries some appeal, right, Dean?”
He chuckles lightly, resting his leather folder on the island. “Like I said, he’s in no rush, but I’m sure I can work my magic for you, Beau.”
So it’s Beau now? “Assuming it’s what I want,” I say, wandering to the back of the apartment, taking in the spacious but cozy lounge as I go. It needs redecorating; the walls are scuffed and a bit grubby. “The bedrooms are this way?”
“Yes, with two very generous bathrooms.”
I enter the master and am pleasantly surprised by the size. “Good space,” I muse, walking around the cream rug.
“The bathroom is just through there.”
I follow his pointed hand, entering. He wasn’t kidding. Very generous. The walk-in shower is minimal, just a sheet of glass fixed to the tile and anchored to the wall by a silver bar.
“So what do you think?” Dean asks, standing in the doorway.
I hold back my thoughts, tampering down my enthusiasm. “It’s got potential,” I say quietly, running my palm across the wood-veneer vanity unit.
“Can I ask what you do, Beau?” he asks, sweeping a hand through his slick hair. What do I do? Good question. Currently, I’m floating between heaven and hell. Usually, I’d be distracting myself with some painting, although not much of that has happened of late. I must finish James’s office.
My cell rings, saving me from Dean’s question, and I take James’s call as I peek in the mirror-fronted cupboard hanging over the sink. “Hey, I’m in the apartment. Head into the lobby.” I close the door of the cupboard and turn toward Dean, who nods and gets straight onto his cell, calling the concierge.
“Yes, show her up.” He cuts the call and slips his cell into his pocket. “I’ll let her in.”
“Thanks.” I follow him out of the bedroom on a smile, wickedly looking forward to the moment when Dean learns that she is in fact a he. A big he. An impressive he. A fierce he. We wander through the open living area, and I hear the sound of an impatient knock as we pass the kitchen.
I hover to the side of Dean as he swings the door open, smiling brightly. “Hi, I’m . . .” His head tilts back, and he reverses his steps, his smile falling.
“This is my friend,” I say, biting my lip furiously to restrain my smile. “James, this is Dean, the real estate agent.”
James gives me a narrowed eye when he catches the amusement I’m doing a terrible job of hiding. Nor the thrill of how ruggedly handsome he looks in trousers and a shirt, open at the collar. He’s dressed rather smart for errands on a Saturday.
James grunts, looking nothing short of pissed off, giving Dean a glare paired with a curled lip. Poor Dean doesn’t know where to look, his persona changing in an instant.
“What do you think?” I ask James, trying to distract him from whatever’s gotten under his skin today. It could be me. I don’t know. It probably is.
“I think I need a tour,” he says quietly, wandering over to the kitchen. I follow, a little wary. “Has he made a move on you?” he asks, not nearly quietly enough, nothing but displeasure on his face.
I tilt my head. “Would that be a problem?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t beat around the bush, scowling over his shoulder, and I glance back, seeing Dean’s smile is now more nervous than cheesy. “That would be a huge problem.”
“Why?” I ask, not certain that I want the answer.
James looks at me in question, definitely wondering the same as me. Do I want to know? Is this another bout of jealously? Something tells me I’m about to find out. “Beau and I are going to take another look around,” he says to Dean, eyes still on me. That gaze is threatening. And electrifying. I start to shift on my feet, and James doesn’t miss it.