“Not a brat, sunshine. It’s my fault. Realtor 101—never show someone a property they can’t afford. They’ll always fall in love. I didn’t put viewing the property for my client together with your pro-and-con list until it was too late.”
She purses her lips together. “There really were major flaws in all the other properties you showed me.”
“Absolutely. But this is when the business side of your brain needs to kick in. If you have to make hard choices, figure out what you value most. What can you live with? What won’t you accept? You’ll find your answers.”
“Will I ever succeed or is this just a pie-in-the-sky dream?”
She’s looking at me with such troubled eyes that I can’t stand it anymore. I reach out, pull her against me. She stiffens for a moment but doesn’t protest. When I settle her against my chest and kiss the top of her head, she lets out a long breath and relaxes, curling her arms around me.
This is the most satisfying moment I’ve felt in nearly a week, since the last time I held her.
“You’ll make it,” I murmur. “You’re too stubborn not to. It won’t be easy. It will require sacrifice. But you’re helping me with Griff. I promised I would help you with your inn. We’ll get there.”
At the reminder of our deal, she backs away, swiping at a teary eye. She gives me a brave nod, and I wish I’d kept my damn mouth shut.
“Of course. If you want to shower or change clothes, we’ve got about twenty minutes before dinner.”
“Both.” I risk pressing a kiss onto her cheek. Her body goes rigid but I’m already dashing into the bedroom before she can protest my embrace. “Back then.”
As I stand under the spray, I’m tempted to take my aching cock in hand. I’m hard and I have soap. I’ve had plenty of orgasms here, especially in times, like now, when I’ve been too busy to give my sex drive the relief it craves.
I lather up and give my erection a few strokes. I’m having trouble concentrating with Keeley in the next room. I feel like a stupid teenage kid, jacking off instead of simply telling her I want her. She knows and she might turn me down, but I refuse to admit defeat that easily. Maybe a little wine, a little conversation, and a little charm will work wonders.
I give up on the self-pleasure concept and finish my shower. Some shorts and a tank top later, I’m waltzing into the kitchen as she’s dishing up steaming plates and handing one to me over the bar.
“Lanai?” I ask.
“Why would we eat inside?” Her voice tells me that concept is absurd.
I smile as I swipe a bottle of wine and a corkscrew and take them outside. She’s following with her own plate and a salad bowl a few minutes later. She’s barely dressed the tossed greens and taken three bites of food before I’ve cleared my plate.
At the empty carnage of red sauce all over the white china, she blinks. “That was fast.”
“I was starved. And that was amazing.”
To the sound of her laughter, I head in for seconds. When I emerge and start eating again, the pace is still brisk but at least I’m not imitating a Dyson.
“After last night, I’m at your disposal,” she says between bites. “What should we do?”
I’m about to suggest something that requires her to straddle me. Or maybe a reverse cowgirl would be awesome, if athletic, after the crappy day I’ve had. But I have to get serious about my goals, too. Griff didn’t lose a whole damn weekend to other clients, I’ll bet. No matter how tired I am—or how much I don’t want to think of Keeley with my brother—I have to start taking advantage of the time I have with her now.
“I’ve been giving this some thought. In order for you two to ‘meet’ and spend time together, you’ll need a cover story. The easiest would be for you to come to him as a client, but he refuses to romance where he sells. He’s got an assistant he won’t part with. Sheila is ruthlessly efficient, and she’ll have to quit if she ever wants to be rid of him. Besides, after Britta, he’ll never touch someone in his office again. His social circle is like mine—small and closed. Who has time, anyway? The one thing I know he does is hit the gym.” We have that in common, too. “He ran cross country and played basketball in high school. He does some of his best thinking when he’s in an aerobic zone.” And thankfully, one of his neighbors is an older and very nosy woman who is more than happy to tell me everything if I call to chat with her. “I know where he works out. I also know they’re looking for a morning yoga instructor.”
“I’m not certified.”
“I had Britta call the gym. All you have to do is audition. They’re having trouble keeping anyone decent over there. She, um…introduced herself as you. They’re very excited you’ll be coming in on Friday to discuss a job. It pays decent money.”
“You said you didn’t want me working while I was helping you.”
“I’ll make an exception for this.”
“So I’ll be in the same gym as Griff. How am I supposed to meet him? Does he do yoga?”
I scoff. “I doubt that.”
“All right. Then I’m supposed to, what? Come on to him while he’s working out?”
Yeah, that’s sounding less likely. “Or, hell, just strike up a conversation. Get him to talk about himself. He likes to do that. Smile. Be his friend. You already look pretty, so you don’t have to try there. Dazzle him with your charm.”
“If he’s attracted to a sharp, professional woman, how am I supposed to dress smartly in yoga pants?”
She has a point. Not that he’d never look at a woman in spandex. But he’s like iron to a magnet when it comes to a babe in business garb who has a sharp brain to match. If I want to snag his attention and distract him quickly, I need a different tactic. I really don’t want Griff seeing Keeley dressed in the way designed to slay him. I certainly don’t want my brother thinking about her sexually. But how else will he ever let her in his life? Since my brother won’t touch a client, pursue a colleague, or let a new friend close, that leaves me one option. Keeley will have to sweep him off his feet, the way she did me.
Shit.
“Never mind.” I sigh, completely annoyed. “I’ll check with Harlow, find out what bar he’s frequenting these days when he’s feeling lonely and wants a hookup. I’ll see if she knows when he’ll be swimming the pool of other single professionals looking for a watering hole and a meaningless fuck.”
“I’m still not sleeping with him.”
Please don’t. “Totally understand. I just need you to tempt him a little.”
She nods nervously. “I hope this mission doesn’t require more.”
On Monday afternoon, I cut the workday short. Rob and Britta finally camped onto my way of thinking about the Stowe estate, so they’re plunging headfirst into what my assistant likes to call a more elegant strategy. A nice way of saying we’re going to strip this bitch down and focus on showcasing her tits. Sorry, her breastsss.
They’re brainstorming so hard I’m half expecting a tornado to take out the office before I leave and head back to the condo. Sure enough, when I arrive, Keeley is there with an iPad hooked up to a portable speaker. It takes me a minute to realize she’s YouTubing karaoke music and singing the hell out of a Katy Perry ballad.
I watch her and let that sweet, velvet voice caress my eardrums. Every note resonates with something that feels a lot like heartbreak. I want to touch her.
When she cries out for the final time that she’s “Wide Awake,” she turns off the tablet, then spins around for her bottle of water and spots me in the entry. She presses a hand to her chest with a gasp.
I swallow my tongue because she’s wearing a bikini top that barely holds her in and some of the tightest yoga pants I’ve ever seen. A glance at her ass tells me she’s undoubtedly commando.
“I didn’t hear you come in.” She looks away in embarrassment. “I didn’t expect you for a few hours.”
“We’ve got an appointment tonight. Makeover phase one is about to begin.”
“Oh.” She doesn’t look
thrilled. “What about dinner?”
“We’ll get it while we’re out.” I grab her hand, glad when she doesn’t resist. “It’s regrettable that you need to throw on a bra and panties, but you’d start a public riot wearing what you’ve got on. Oh, and choose clothes easy to slip off.”
“You are not seducing me, Maxon Reed.” She wags a finger at me.
Maybe not in the next five minutes, but soon. At the very least, I need to remind her which brother she met first before I send her off to derail Griff.
“It’s nothing like that,” I tell her innocently.
She doesn’t look as if she really believes me, but she disappears into her room. A few minutes later, she emerges in a pair of khaki shorts, a pretty crisscross blouse in some blue-green color that does amazing things for her eyes, and a pair of beige heels with studded straps around her ankles that attach to a matching band across her toes via a slinky gold chain. If shoes ever said “fuck me,” it was these.
I almost swallow my tongue.