Down & Dirty (Lightning 1)

“Did you explain to him that these are the best houses San Diego has to offer? There just aren’t that many waterfront properties of this scale and magnitude available. I handpicked those five for him.”

“And he appreciated it.” I nearly choke on the words—and the need to tell her just how little her preconceived notions are matching up with Hunter’s vision of his house. “But I think he wants to look at something a little smaller. A little less…grandiose.”

“He’s a man,” she answers dismissively. “He doesn’t know what he wants—or what he needs. Which is why it’s up to us to sell him the house we know is right for him, no matter what he thinks.”

It’s all I can do not to raise my brows at her this time. Because she can’t be serious. She can’t actually think she can bully Hunter into buying a house he doesn’t like, does she?

The whole idea is absurd.

I only spent a few hours with the man and I can tell that he isn’t the type to be bullied. Or cajoled. Or talked into something he doesn’t want. Whether Kerry wants to acknowledge it or not, Hunter has a pretty clear vision for his house, and if she won’t help him find it, then he will go to someone else and she’ll lose the big commission he brings with him.

And so will I.

And while there’s no doubt that Kerry can afford to lose the one and a half percent her agency will get from his sale, I can’t. Which means I have to find a way to not just convince her not to fire me—as she’s obviously looking to do just that—but also to let me have a second chance at selling to Hunter. I don’t know the houses in San Diego well enough to have any ideas in mind for him yet, but I’ve got twenty-four hours to learn how to use the database and find the perfect house for him.

I’m going to do just that, if Kerry will give me the chance.

“Yes, but—”

“No buts!” she tells me sharply. “I’ve been in the high-end San Diego real estate game for a decade. I’ve sold houses to more than two dozen football and baseball players through the years, not to mention numerous CEOs and Hollywood types. The Magnolia house would be perfect for him. Plenty of outdoor activities, close to the water, a really unique style that will help brand him when magazines and TV shows come calling for a look at his new place.

“I don’t expect you to understand any of that, though. This is your first day on the job, after all.” Her tone implies that it may very well be my last, as well. I stiffen as I wait for the axe to fall, but before she can say anything more, her intercom beeps.

“Kerry,” says whoever has been answering the phones while I’ve been playing at being a real estate agent. “Hunter Browning is on line three for you.”

She shoots me a warning look as she reaches for the phone. “Hello, Hunter, how are you?” Her tinkling laugh is as fake as her wrinkle-free skin.

I can only hear her side of the conversation, but that’s all I need to hear to be able to figure out that Hunter is singing my praises. And while, that one kiss notwithstanding, I don’t think there was anything exceptional about the few hours we spent looking at disappointing houses, I can’t help but appreciate the fact that he’s a lot more astute than I first gave him credit for.

From what she’s saying—and the furious look she’s doing her best to hide—it’s obvious that he understands Kerry very well. Not just that, he understands exactly how much jeopardy he put my job in this morning when he demanded that I be the one to show him houses. Otherwise, there’s no reason for him to be on the phone with Kerry right now, obviously singing my praises.

“I’m actually speaking with Emerson right now, Hunter. She’s been telling me how much she’s looking forward to showing you some more properties tomorrow.” She pauses for a moment, listens to whatever bullshit he’s feeding her. Then laughs again. “Of course, of course. We’ll definitely have some more properties for you to look at tomorrow. It’s our job to find you the perfect house, after all. Emerson and I are both totally committed to that.”

She nearly chokes on my name as she says it, but I don’t care. Because with one phone call, Hunter Browning has assured that I get to keep my job for at least another day or two. Not to mention guaranteed me that big, fat commission if I find him a house. Which I am determined to do. Not just because I need the money, but because I can’t help remembering how he looked standing in front of that house on Coronado. A little lost, a little desperate, full of a pain I can’t help but recognize even if I don’t understand it.

He might have been a cocky jerk to me this morning, but he’s gone out of his way to mak

e sure that I suffer no ill work effects from our encounter. It’s more than most rich and famous guys would do and I owe him for it.

After simpering at Hunter for a couple more minutes, Kerry finally hangs up the phone. Then she shoots me a look that has the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. “Hunter is adamant that you be the one to show him houses tomorrow.”

“I’m happy to do it.”

“I just bet you are.” She taps her gold pen on the desk in an angry rhythm. “But before you go anywhere with him, I’d like to remind you that you are representing this agency and as such will conduct yourself with the utmost professionalism. Is that understood?”

I block the memory of that one scorching kiss from my mind and nod solemnly. “Yes, absolutely.”

“Good. Because men like Hunter Browning are used to getting whatever they want. Right now, he obviously wants you.” She looks me over with disdain, very clearly saying without words that she can’t imagine what he sees in me.

“But once he gets what he wants, he’ll move on. After all, the only thing they like less than celibacy is having to deal with their one-night stands in the morning. So, while I’m willing to indulge whatever fascination Hunter has for you, you need to understand one thing. If you compromise this sale, if whatever happens between you makes him walk away before he buys a house from this agency, then you are finished. Not only will I fire you, but I’ll make sure that anyone in the business who might be tempted to hire you knows you can’t be trusted with their clients. Do I make myself clear?”

I swallow down the rage building inside of me, concentrate instead on what it will mean if I actually sell him a house. Financial security. A chance to do my art. Not having to run home to my mother and beg for her help. “Crystal clear.”

“Good. I’ll have a new list of houses for you to show him on your desk before you leave tonight. In the meantime, answer the phones and try not to cause any more trouble. Can you do that?”

I grit my teeth, force a smile I’m far from feeling. And remind myself that I can’t afford bail if I get arrested for punching my arrogant bitch of a boss in her perfect, white teeth. “Absolutely.”

“Good.” She reaches for her laptop, opens it up. And pretends I no longer exist.