Falling for Fangs

Chloe was nervous as she stood by her car, shivering even under her thick coat, a binder held in her freezing hands. She should have worn gloves, she thought. Definitely should have worn gloves.

Maxwell Davidson wasn’t late, at least not yet. She was simply early, as she always was to professional appointments. But in the darkening night air, with chill gusts of wind licking at her aching feet in her uncomfortable shoes, she certainly was starting to resent him like he was late. Even if he wasn’t.

Chloe checked her watch again. Six minutes until seven. And at least sixteen minutes until she could reasonably be pissed off at him for being late.

Could she wait in her car? It was very tempting to get back inside the mid-sized blue sedan, turn on the heating, and—

But just as Chloe was debating whether waiting in her car was unprofessional or simply pragmatic, a Range Rover pulled up the gravel driveway and stopped next to her.

Well, that was plus one for Maxwell Davidson, Chloe thought. Weirdo or not, at least he was punctual. She did like a client who arrived a little early.

Chloe stood up straighter, tried very hard to stop shivering, and put on her best welcoming and professional smile as the door opened and the mysterious man himself appeared.

And he was…

“Well, hey there,” said the stranger, in a deep voice with a distinctive American twang. “I sure hope I haven’t kept you waiting long in the cold. I’m grateful you made time for me tonight.”

And Chloe’s professional smile was still in place, but inside? Well, that was a different story. Because Maxwell Davidson was not what she had expected. It wasn’t like Chloe had spent a great deal of time imagining what he’d be like; she was a busy girl. But if you had pressed her, she might have guessed that Maxwell was an old rich guy, looking to add another property to his dragon-like hoard. She would have imagined scrubby greying hair and one of those nylon puffer vests busting at the zipper over a beer gut. Chloe certainly would not have imagined the reality.

As it turned out, Maxwell Davidson was tall, with chestnut coloured hair that flopped elegantly over his forehead. With a strong jawline, a straight nose, and dark eyes, his face could have graced an advertisement selling anything from aftershave to luxury watches. He was simply dressed in dark jeans and a white linen shirt; a little crumpled from his travels but not a puffer vest in sight. He was, all in all, a goddamn dreamboat.

Chloe was suddenly aware that she ought to have said something by now. “Hi!” she said, her voice a little too loud and definitely too high in pitch. “It’s wonderful to meet you. I’m Chloe Bloom. We’ve emailed.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Chloe,” he said in that deliciously smooth voice, taking a step closer and holding out one hand.

“Oh, I won’t shake your hand,” Chloe shook her head, laughing nervously. “My hands are freezing. It would be horrible! For you, that is. Horrible for you.” Inside, Chloe was berating herself. Why was she behaving like a love-struck teenager meeting a YouTube star at an autograph session?

“That’s very thoughtful of you, then.” Maxwell pulled his hand back and slipped it into his pocket. It was then that Chloe noticed he wasn’t wearing a coat. He must be freezing, she thought.

“Let’s get started on the tour, then,” Chloe said, charging ahead and hoping that Maxwell would put her awkwardness down to her being affected by the cold weather and not by him. “If you’d like to follow me!”

She didn’t look back, but she was very much aware of Maxwell’s presence behind her as she led him up the steps of the modern, architect-designed house which was perfectly positioned to overlook the mountains beyond.

Chloe was glad she managed to open the door without fumbling and took a deep breath as she stepped inside, flicking on the lights. She reminded herself, very firmly, that she was a professional and she could handle an unexpectedly handsome client. Even one who had a voice like the local honey that she sometimes bought at the markets; rich, sweet, and a little dark. And wow, Chloe really needed to stop having thoughts like that. It wasn’t like she was interested in the guy, whatever he looked like. She didn’t have time for relationships, and especially not with clients.

“As you can see, this is an architect-designed home, with luxury finishes and incredible attention to detail,” Chloe began, handing Maxwell a glossy information sheet. She was glad her hand didn’t tremble, especially when he smiled his thanks.

“It’s a shame we’re here at night because the most amazing feature of this property is the floor to ceiling windows all around the main living space, letting in natural light and—”

“No,” Maxwell said suddenly, and Chloe turned back to him, frowning.

“No?” she asked, confused.

“No,” Maxwell repeated. “I’m sorry, but this place just won’t work for me.”

“Are you sure?” Chloe had never had a client turn down a property so quickly. Not even when she had been interning down in Katoomba and triumphantly opened the door of the main bathroom to find the current occupant seated on the toilet. “I can show you more of the property. The kitchen benchtop is imported marble, fitted with all Smeg appliances and—”

“I’m sure it’s very nice,” Maxwell said, giving her that smile again. “But no. I can tell this place isn’t for me. I don’t like the windows.”

Chloe was silent for a moment. Who the hell didn’t like floor to ceilings windows? The views were incredible! But she remembered her professional manners. “Not a problem!” she said cheerfully. “Let’s head on to the next one.”

“Thanks,” Maxwell said, nodding smartly. “I’m afraid this won’t do at all.”

“Not a problem!” Chloe repeated, her voice reaching a soprano’s pitch. “Saves us both time, really.”

But as she locked the door behind her, Chloe’s face fell. Just how picky was Maxwell going to be? She only had two more properties to show him, and one of them was…complicated. It wasn’t like Crowley Lake had an abundance of empty houses that fit the description of “grand residence“.

“I’ll follow your car, okay?” Maxwell said, still smiling as he walked back to his very shiny and new-looking Range Rover. Chloe felt a brief stab of envy. She bet his car had seat warmers; he wouldn’t have an uncomfortably numb bottom on the drive to the next house. Not that he seemed to feel the cold, the lucky bastard.

“Sounds great!” Chloe said, pulling her coat tighter around herself. All she could hope was that he liked the next house.