by J. Kenner
He squeezed her hand, feeling ridiculously proud that she approved. “Thanks.”
“I’ve lived in Austin my whole life, and I’ve barely given it a second glance. When will you be able to start renovations? For that matter, what are you planning to do?”
One by one, the bubbles of joy that had been floating inside him began to pop. “Actually, that’s why I wanted you here today. I need to come up with a plan.”
They went across the street to a new food truck court, then sat at a table and ate what probably qualified as the best brisket on the planet. And while they dug into the meat and coleslaw, he gave her a quick summary of his plan for the Winston Boutiques division … and a summary of why it was currently on ice.
“So you want to start an offshoot of the hotel chain. Not the big, ornate fancy ones, but smaller places. Like high end boutiques.”
“Right.”
“I think that’s brilliant.”
“So do I,” he said. “And the board was willing to consider my plan, at least until I hit a snag on this property. The owners originally said they were interested in selling. Now, they’ve got cold feet.”
“So the Winston Corporation board is shutting you down because you may not be able to acquire this particular motel? That’s silly. There are dozens of cute, retro motels in town. And gobzillions in Texas.”
“Not disagreeing. But it’s also not up to me.”
She sat back with a sound of disgust that sent happy vibrations curling through him, simply from the knowledge that she was on his side.
“Maybe you should just do it yourself,” she said. “Screw the big corporate mentality and follow your grandfather’s footsteps and do your own hotel.”
“Great-grandfather, and it’s a little more complicated than simply jumping in. But I appreciate the sentiment.”
She scrunched up her mouth as if she was about to argue, then blew out a loud breath. “Okay, I suppose it would be. But how am I supposed to help?”
She’d finished eating, so he reached over and collected her trash, then tossed it with his in a trashcan at the end of their table. “Wanna walk? I’ll explain while we window shop.”
They were on the south end of the SoCo shopping area, which consisted of a stretch of South Congress Avenue about a mile past the river. Now they started walking north along the wide, charming street lined with funky shops. Everything from costumes to candy to original art to cowboy boots. On the horizon, the Capitol building loomed across the river. A long walk, but doable if someone was motivated.
Today, Derek wasn’t. He only wanted to stroll lazily with Amanda, sharing his story and talking about whatever else came to mind.
“Okay, so tell me,” she urged.
“The owners have run the place since they were in their twenties,” he began. “And they're both in their seventies now.”
“Any kids?”
“Nope.”
She paused, and for a moment, he thought she was looking at the cute cat photos in the shop window. “I think you’re wrong. No human kids, maybe, but after that much time, that motel is their baby.”
“I know. That’s the problem.”
“What did you do? Offer them more money?”
“And we explained the concept of the boutique.”
“Hmm. They still said no?”
He nodded, even though the question was obviously rhetorical.
“The thing is, they don’t know if this is Mary Poppins or The Hand that Rocks The Cradle.”
“Huh?”
“Okay, maybe not the best way of putting it, but in one, the nanny swoops in and makes everything magical and awesome. In the other, she comes in and people fall over dead. How do they know which one you are? Have you seen Cradle? Rebecca De Mornay sounds all sane and normal and awesome, but she turns out to be a basket case.”
“I’ll have to watch it,” he said dryly as they began walking again. “But how does this apply to me?”
“Take them something concrete. I know a woman who does business remodels. She’s helped on some of my properties that need a little work before we put them on the market. She could draw something up, maybe. Or walk through with the owners and tell them what you have in mind. That might be better.” Her tone was musing, as if she was considering all the possibilities as they strolled. “More personal, you know.”
He pulled her to a stop beside him. “You’d do that?”
“Sure.”
“That would be fabulous,” he said, and not just because he could use the help on the deal. No, the truth was he liked the idea that their lives were intertwining more and more. She’d snuck up on him, no doubt about that. And he still wasn’t sure where they were going. But he was damn sure enjoying the journey.
“Her name’s Brooke Hamlin. Do you want me to set up a meeting?”
“Yes,” he said, then stole a quick kiss before she could protest that they were in public. “That would be great.”
“Amanda!” Brooke Hamlin flashed a picture-perfect grin and ushered Amanda and Derek into the recently remodeled detached office that dominated her tiny backyard. Tall and curvy, with blonde hair at least two shades darker than Amanda’s, Brooke was the kind of woman who could easily appear on the cover of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue.
Today, her hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail, she had a streak of paint on her cheek, and she wore paint-splattered jeans and a SXSW tank top.
“Thanks so much for squeezing us in,” Amanda said. “This is Derek Winston.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Derek said, as they shook hands. “Like Amanda said, I appreciate you taking the time.”
“Really not a problem. I’ve been refinishing a chest of drawers behind the office, so sorry about the totally unprofessional attire.”
“Well, it is Saturday,” Derek pointed out.
“True, but my business is still pretty new, and I’m always looking for clients, whenever they pop up. Or potential clients,” she added with a grin. “And I’ll always take the time to help a friend. So Amanda said that you’re one of her real estate clients, and you have a problem with a commercial deal?”
Derek shot Amanda a quick glance before looking back at Brooke. “That’s right.”
Amanda exhaled. She’d made that client bit up on the fly. Just because it wasn’t anyone’s business, even a friend’s, who she was dating.
Or, rather, sleeping with. They weren’t dating. There was a difference, after all.
She realized with a start that Brooke was peering at her. “I’m sorry. What?”
“I said to come on over to the table. I’ve got some ideas.”
The small office was dominated by a long oak table with a computer at one end, a huge monitor mounted on the wall above it, and a mishmash of blueprints, sample books, and brochures scattered over the tabletop.
“I did a little poking around since you called,” Brooke said. “Take a look.” She sat in front of her computer, but pointed them to the mounted screen. “I just put this setup in. Cool, huh?”
Amanda had to agree. The monitor flashed on and Amanda and Derek saw a photograph of the motel. “Since I didn’t have any of your sketches,” she told Derek, “I went a little wild.”
The next slide showed the same motel, but cleaned up and modernized though still keeping the retro quality. “Quick and dirty,” Brooke said, though Amanda thought it looked pristine and perfect.
“And I found a few images of the interior online. Here … and here…” She tapped a few more keys and the same before and after shots came up of the lobby and a guest room.
“I didn’t have time to do any mockups for the landscaping, but I found a property that has what I think would work great.” The image flashed on screen. “And I also found a company that specializes in copying old signage. That way you can keep the look of the old sign and update it with the Winston logo.”
She sat back. “So that’s pretty much all I had time to do, but—”
Amanda c
ouldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out.
“What?”
“We called you barely thirty minutes ago.”
A slight blush crept up Brooke’s cheeks. “Well, I was intrigued. Once I got going, I couldn’t stop.”
“It’s great,” Amanda assured her. “Right?”
Derek nodded, looking a little shell-shocked. “More than great. It’s incredible. I’d like to hire you to come with me to the meeting. Once I get it set up, maybe we could put together a video proposal.”
“Use some morphing software to show the transformation? Yeah, that sounds great.”
They exchanged numbers and made plans to be in touch, and Amanda sat back feeling more than a little smug.
“What?” Derek said once they were in the car.
“I don’t know. Usually I’m at the center of a deal. It was fun to watch you two work.”
“She’s talented.”
“She really is,” Amanda agreed.
He leaned over to the passenger seat and kissed her. “So are you.”
“Watch it,” she chided. “She might see.”
“Would that be so bad?”
Amanda shrugged, not entirely sure how to answer that. “She’d know I was lying. I practically said you were only a client. Which, actually, was also a lie.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
His tone had changed from teasing to serious, and she studied him as he concentrated on backing out of the driveway. When they were back on Riverside Drive, she asked him what he meant.
“I want to buy a condo. And I need a real estate agent who can narrow down potential properties when I’m not around. Funny thing is, I could only think of one person I want to work with.”
“Seriously? Here?”
“This is your market, right?”
“Well, yes. But why? Are you moving here?”
He shook his head, and though Amanda knew she should be relieved, she could feel a tiny knot of disappointment forming in her gut.
“Since the boutique division may be dead in the water, I’m taking over as the director of North American operations.”
“Sounds important.”
He grinned. “It’s not shabby. But it involves a lot of travel. I already have a place in Dallas, Los Angeles, New York, and Chicago. I want one here, too. The room we’ve been using is a corporate room, so I can’t leave personal things there.”
She nodded, thinking how nice it must be to just buy a condo wherever you needed one. “Well, I’m happy to help.” She meant it, too. She’d thought it would be weird to seek out work, but having Derek hand it to her on a platter was something entirely different.
“I thought maybe you could scope out the market then shoot me some possibilities. I’m thinking a two bedroom, two bath. Even if I don’t keep it, that’s better for resale than a studio.”
“You got it. Budget?”
“I only poked around a bit into the Austin market, but I think a cap of three mil should work?”
“I can find you something exceptional for that. And probably for significantly less if we keep our eyes open.”
“Fair enough. You keep your eyes on the market, and I’ll keep mine on you.”
She caught herself smiling. “That’s a plan I can live with.”
With a sigh, she leaned back, enjoying the drive. They’d decided to take advantage of the rest of the day and stroll through the botanical gardens, and it took no time at all for them to reach Zilker Park. Soon they were walking among the greenery, and when Derek took her hand, Amanda didn’t protest.
She did, however, start thinking about those other towns. Those other condos. And as they approached the Japanese garden, she pulled her hand away and shoved it into her pocket.
“So you’ve got condos all over the place already? How come? You’re just now getting this new North American job, right?”
He glanced at her, but she couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses. “My work has always required a lot of travel. But I don’t actually own all of the properties. The Chicago one is my mother’s, although she’s never there. Mellie and I share it.”
That had to be a relative, but even so, a green-tinted demon poked her in the gut, forcing her to blurt out the words and make a fool of herself. “Who’s Mellie?”
Now his mouth twitched, and she was certain he was reading her mind. “My sister.”
“Oh.” She really should Google this man.
“Anything else you want to ask me?”
“No. Yes.” Shit. “I was just wondering if there were other girls like me. I mean, how many cities have Winston Hotels with corporate rooms?”
Had she really said that? If it were possible, she’d knock that damn demon to the ground and crush him dead under the heel of her sneaker.
“Ah, the answer to that would be all of them.”
She swallowed.
“They all have corporate use rooms.” He took her hand and tugged her to a stop in the shade. “But there are no other women. Not in hotel rooms or my apartment or anywhere else.”
“Oh.” An unreasonable amount of relief flooded her. “Okay. I was just curious.”
“Curious? Or jealous?”
She licked her lips, then focused on the floral pattern of her shoes. “Maybe a little of both.”
“Interesting,” he said, and when she looked back up, he was smiling.
“Do you know what I think we should do?” he asked.
“What?”
He bent forward, then whispered the words, his mouth so close that his lips brushed her ear, making her shiver. “I think we should go back to the hotel so that I can prove to you that you have absolutely no reason at all to be jealous.”
Her breath left her in a woosh, and she nodded. “Yeah,” she finally managed. “That sounds like a great idea to me.”
Chapter Seven
Something shifted beneath her, and Amanda bolted upright, gasping and confused. She had no memory of what she’d been dreaming, but she understood what had awakened her. Derek had rolled over, and her head must have slid off his chest and onto the mattress.
She allowed herself a satisfied smile as she recalled the way he’d kissed his way all over her body, leaving her warm and tingly. And then, when he’d moved on to kiss between her legs, not letting up until she’d come three times, well, then she’d done more than tingle.
He’d refused to let her return the favor. Instead, he’d pulled her close, and she’d fallen asleep tucked up against him. Now, though, it was time to come back to reality.
With a loud exhale, she shook herself, trying to erase the grogginess. She ran her hand through her hair, caught a glimpse of the clock, and sighed.
Past ten.
Part of her wanted to snuggle back under the covers and go to sleep. But the part that was still sane and remembered her no strings, no relationship commitment told her to get her ass out of bed and go home.
Stupid sane part…
She dragged herself to the bathroom, quietly gathering clothes along the way, careful not to disturb Derek, who looked like he could sleep for a year. Only when she was inside the small room did she flip on the light and get dressed.
A few minutes later, she cast one quick glance back to Derek, then dragged herself out of the room. The door closed with a soft snick, and she grimaced, hoping it didn’t wake him. She knew he was tired; she was tired for the same reason.
The thought made her smile, and she hurried toward the elevator, leaning against the wall until the doors open, and she could step out into the lobby. Her sneakers made no noise on the tile floor, and she kept her head down, startled when she heard a deep voice calling, “Amanda?”
She turned and saw Easton Wallace, tall and chiseled, pushing himself up out of an overstuffed leather chair in the lobby bar.
“Easton!” She hurried forward, accepting his hug. “I haven’t seen you in months. What have you been up to?”
“I was in LA for a while. Saw Jenna out ther
e. Depositions and a huge document production.” He shook his head, like a dog shaking off fleas. “Thank God that’s over.”
“Why are you here alone?”
“I was with a date, but she got called into work. She’s a surgeon,” he added, in response to her questioning look.
She glanced at the two glasses on the table where he’d been sitting, and he laughed. “Scotch for me, cranberry juice for her.” He indicated the abandoned chair. “We’d just ordered some chips and guacamole. Want to join me and catch up? I can get you something other than her discarded juice.”
She hesitated, feeling strangely guilty about sitting with another man while Derek was asleep upstairs. Especially Easton. Not that there was anything between them now, but they’d gone out a few months ago. But it wasn’t serious—Amanda didn’t do serious—and they’d become good friends. And Easton still fed her potential clients.
Amanda was pretty sure that Jenna was convinced they’d slept together, and Amanda hadn’t bother to correct her. Jenna was convinced Amanda was nursing deep scars after Leo and that getting involved with other men would act as a healing balm. Jenna was probably right. Not that Amanda would ever admit that out loud.
“So what are you doing here?” he asked, after the waiter had delivered the chips, and Easton had ordered her a drink. “Hot date?”
“I was visiting a friend,” she said primly.
“Uh-huh. Let me guess, you’ve got some new guy on the hook, and you’re about to lure him into buying a million dollar property.”
“You asshole.” She shot the insult at him as a joke—and she knew perfectly well that he was joking, too. But it hit a little too close to home. She was about to hook Derek up with a condo. And she was sleeping with him. True, she’d purposefully not gone there when they’d first met, but now…
“Kidding.” He put his hands up in supplication.
“Change of subject. How’s Jenna seem to you?” From her own conversations, Amanda was worried that Jenna missed Texas too much.