Floor Time

by Liz Crowe

  Yep. She had most definitely dodged a bullet.

  So why was she sobbing as if her heart was broken?

  She sat in the car, collected herself and then drove towards her office, her mind already on the work ahead – deals to be closed, clients to be contacted, money to be made. She added Adam and the memory of today’s shock and humiliation to the steaming pile of shitty moments already occupied by the college boyfriend who’d dumped her on graduation day and shoved them all to a small, dark, recessed corner of her mind. She made one more resolution: Never rely on a man– get what you want if you must physically if you can and good for you if can, but nothing more.

  Once parked, she grabbed her phone and erased Adam from her contacts. Hope he realizes he just lost one of his best referral sources. Asshole. The tears continued to stream down her face as she sat in the sweltering car. Her mind circling around one man, and one man only.

  Jack Client-Stealing-Too-Hot-For-His-Own-Good Gordon.

  Chapter Three

  Sara’s phone buzzed its way across her desk with an incoming text.

  395! Take it or leave it. I’m dying here, Sara!

  I’ll get back to you, she replied with a wicked smile.

  After nearly a year, the most difficult buyers of her career had decided that Jack’s stale Lansdowne listing was their dream house. She’d been forced to deal with him almost constantly for the last three weeks. It was exhausting, pretending she didn’t thrill to the sound of his voice or that her scalp didn’t tingle in anticipation when she caught one of his incoming texts.

  After the Adam disaster, Sara had spent the next twelve months ignoring men, including Jack. She’d disciplined herself into a smaller skirt size, used the time to hone her career onto a serious fast track with referrals and closings piling up along with her bank balance. Her brother Blake worried about her single-minded obsession over work and lack of any obvious social life. But she reminded him that the last time she had one of those, that guy had married someone else.

  Sara and Blake had always been close. She relied on him and his partner, Rob, for most of her emotional support – and her meals. Rob was a French-trained chef who owned one of the hottest new brew pubs in town, with Blake as brewer. In an odd turn of fate, Rob was a fraternity brother of Jack’s at Michigan State. He’d filled Blake’s already over-protective brain with tales of Jack’s reputation. The coincidences and connections boggled the mind.

  Sara sighed and dialed her buyer’s number once again. She wouldn’t touch Jack Gordon with anyone’s ten-foot pole. The fact that he had stayed out of her way fairly effectively as well hadn’t escaped her notice.

  Figures. He probably senses you’re kryptonite.

  And now this.

  She had buyers who seemed to get off on Extreme Negotiation, and his seller didn’t want to close any deal. Likely because it meant she wouldn’t get any more contact with her Realtor-slash-boytoy.

  Jesus. What a soap opera.

  She smiled when her buyer answered, steeling herself for yet another round of death by nickels and dimes, as visions of Jack Gordon’s impish blue eyes and full lips swam through her mind. Sara reminded herself once again that she was a better woman for focusing on herself and her career all this time – and for avoiding him. Her body begged to differ, already reacting to the concept of having Jack in direct proximity again.

  But one of the many things she’d trained out of herself in the past year was her misguided desire for sex. It was overrated anyway. She used that re-channeled energy to run for miles and execute hundreds of sit-ups every single day without fail. Better use of her time, she figured.

  But now that Jack was back within her orbit, she could sense her resolve crumbling around her.

  “Ok, we finished the inspection and there are some issues, as you might expect.” Sara winced, preparing for a patented, snarky, Jack Gordon earful.

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  He seemed quieter than usual, not filling the phone line with his usual poor me, why can’t you control your people? bullshit. Her suspicions grew, wondering if he was messing with her, trying to catch her off guard.

  “Well, um, I’ll get back with you later tonight with our conditions for contingency removal.”

  “That’s fine. I’m used to getting screamed at by her, anyway.” A deep sigh filled Sara’s ears. “Let’s hold this one together, shall we?” he finally asked. “I can’t take much more of this seller.”

  “Fine, talk soon.” She hung up without letting him respond.

  Sara put her hands on the steering wheel before starting her car, trying to control her shakes. Why did she let him get to her, anyway? He was just a man for crying out loud. Any man not her brother or his handsome, killer-cook partner Rob was useless, as far as she was concerned.

  Focus, Sara, focus. You’ve been fine since Adam. No need to fall into this game with anyone now, much less someone like Jack.

  Jack leaned back in his chair after she hung up on him once again. He stared at the familiar office ceiling, sighed and stretched his arms over his head. His mind drifted, as it had so many times, to the moment he’d first laid eyes on Sara Jane Thornton.

  His assistant, Jason, stuck his head in the door, startling him so much he nearly dumped himself backward onto the floor. His eyes sprung open, erasing the image of Sara’s deep green gaze – and gorgeous tight ass – from his mind.

  “Jack.” Jason fiddled with his earpiece. “She’s calling again. Where are you this time?”

  He groaned. “Fucking-A, why can’t the woman take a hint?”

  He had managed to make it a lot of years able to escape serious commitment. The one time he’d allowed himself that luxury he had got bitten on the ass so hard he’d been reluctant to sit much since. He realized it was more than a little clichéd, getting hurt by a woman in law school and avoiding emotional connection ever since. But it had worked for him. Now it would seem as though he’d miscalculated once again and had severely misread his client’s motives.

  Jason shrugged, already taking the next call. He’d been Jack’s assistant for ten years and was used to his boss’s love life. He’d proven himself invaluable deflecting one woman or another. Plus, he was a spot-on licensed assistant when it came to the business of real estate. Jack leaned into his keyboard, ignoring Jason again. The young man waved a hand in front of his face.

  “Dude, what the hell am I supposed to tell her?”

  “Tell her I joined the Peace Corps, moved to Outer Mongolia, and am unavailable for the next ten years. Christ, I don’t know. That’s why I hired you. Make some shit up.”

  “I’m on it.” Jason turned and moved down the hallway towards his office, already making excuses.

  Jason was worth his weight in salary. He’d come up with something. He always did. For about the millionth time that week, Jack wished he’d never, ever met the crazy blonde client.

  But, in the most perfect of ironies, thanks to Sara he got to deal with her daily. Jack looked back at his computer screen. Images of Sara covered the monitor from her website and blog. She had a real handle on social networking and was a pro at keeping fresh photos and testimonials from happy clients front and center.

  Jack ran a hand through his hair. Never in his adult life had he felt so attracted to a woman who had no apparent interest in him beyond professional. Of course, he was stuck dealing with a crazed bitch of a seller he’d been trying to ditch, just so he could stay in contact with the woman he wanted. An alien state of affairs for Jack – not one he liked much. His phone buzzed.

  Sara.

  “Yeah.” He kept his voice gruff.

  “Okay, I emailed you their list of stuff. It’s long and pretty ridiculous. I won’t kid you.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Okay, thanks.” She stopped, but didn’t hang up for a change.

  Jack relaxed at the sound of her voice. He smiled, pictured her eyes, her hands, her lips. He tried not to acknowledge the things sp
inning in his brain. The suddenly vivid image of Sara in his arms, her lips near his, her body curved into his like she’d been born to do exactly that. Whoa, what the fuck? He rubbed his eyes and re-focused.

  “So,” he said, as he leaned back again. “Looks like we’re stuck with this deal, huh?”

  “What?”

  “Well, your cheapskate buyer sprung for a fairly expensive inspection. I assume that means we are on and will have to play this little game for a week or so but will ultimately consummate.”

  He could sense her blush through the phone.

  “Yeah, he’s a real pain, but sounds like you’ve got a similar issue on your end, eh, Jack?”

  “You know I do.” Jack rolled his chair so he could kick the door shut. He reached over and flipped his iPod speakers on. He wanted a bit of privacy and in his frigging fishbowl of an office, he had to work to get it.

  “So, I saw you running yesterday.” Jack said, showing a tiny bit of his hand, finally.

  “Oh, really? Where?”

  “Over by Pioneer,” he said, naming Ann Arbor’s west side high school. “You swing your arms too much.”

  “Thanks for the tip, coach.”

  “You look good though, generally.” Jack smiled into his phone as the strains of the Rolling Stones permeated his office. “But you probably know that.”

  “Thanks, I think.” She tried to sound nonchalant, too busy to bother with him.

  But Jack knew better. He knew it was time to reel her in. Best to hang up and not chat anymore or he’d be tempted to actually ask her out on a real date, something he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to do yet. He knew his rep as a fuck-em-and-leave-em kind of guy. He encouraged it although if he were honest, some of it was overblown. He always pictured himself happily attached someday, with a couple of little Jacks running around to keep things interesting. But now that he was talking to her, to Sara, again, something in him felt out of whack, confused, unsure what to do. And that was definitely not his M.O.

  “Well, I gotta run, babe. I guess you’ve given me my marching orders. I just got your email.” Jack would have gladly talked to her for the next couple of hours, but knew he couldn’t sound too eager.

  “All right, good luck with your seller. I’m sure you can convince her of anything though, huh?”

  “Not anymore.” Jack winced, remembering how incredible the blonde client had been, until she lost her mind and started telling everybody they were getting married. Married? Holy fucking shit – he’d almost had a heart attack when that had gotten back to him in the form of a congratulations email from Greg Stewart, owner of his brokerage. The sound of Sara’s laughter at that moment made him sit up.

  “Well, do your best or at least half as good as you think you are. That ought to cover it.”

  Jack grinned. He’d done his homework. Found a couple of younger agents who had gotten up close and personal with her so he’d been able pick their brains. Their consensus had been she knew how to have fun, was easy to talk to, loved to chat, flirt and generally enjoy herself. She’d send messages with her body language according to these guys, but they had both struck out, royally.

  She’d kiss – very well, they both observed – and act like she was ready for more or whatever, then completely shut down as if a switch got flipped off. Neither man could move past anything but a quick grope in the car or in the front hall of her condo. Jack didn’t consider them the sort of guys who gave up that easily. But she’d not gone out with either of them after the first date, and he found himself even more intrigued by her once he’d gotten this particular intel.

  He loved women – all types of women. Loved their company, their scent, the feel of their skin under his hands, and most of all he loved how he could make them feel. He prided himself on it. The potential of Sara Thornton moaning and begging for him to make her come had him revved up like nothing had in a long time. He was bound and determined to be the guy who released her from this apparent cycle of frustration.

  His body responded every time he pondered the concept of that little project. After that tool, Adam Donovan, had burned her a year ago, she’d withdrawn into herself, and he’d been busy and preoccupied until now. Now, Sara invaded his dreams awake and asleep. She brought out something he’d long buried, locked away and thrown away the key. While it titillated, it also distracted, made him short tempered and antsy.

  He remembered smiling at his computer screen as he glanced over her buyer’s original offer. It had been a shitty start, a clear indication that her clients would be difficult. Which meant their potential time together would be extensive. Jack would not only save the day by convincing his seller to negotiate in good faith, but could take his time fixing what ailed Sara.

  And fixing she needed. That much was clear.

  Of course, he’d had to concentrate on keeping the listing after he’d lost control of the psycho seller—even had to duck a flying crystal vase at one point, but lucky for him he had quick reflexes.

  Jack knew timing was everything. You had to be in the right place at the right time on purpose in order to succeed in his business. The fact that Blondie had gone loco on him just about the time he realized that Sara had gotten royally screwed by that broker tool had been exactly that – timing. Sara needed something she wasn’t going to get with her endless routine of exercise and work. The fact that he had developed a minor obsession with her didn’t escape him, but he chalked it up to lust and his usual desire to obtain the seemingly unobtainable.

  Jack had lost count of the women he’d had sex with. If he were honest with himself, he loved every woman he was with, while he was with them. He loved learning how to press their buttons, what made them tick, how to make them happy, or at least content, under his talented hands. But ever since law school, the one time he’d let himself really open up to a woman who’d dumped him without ceremony the very week they were graduating, he’d closed himself off to anything beyond physical satisfaction. When he sensed any emotional connection seeping in, even from him, he’d cut off the relationship, leaving many an unhappy lady behind.

  He closed his laptop and headed out the door to his next appointment, feeling at the top of his game, but with a small, annoying tickle in the back of his brain whispering Sara’s name. Brushing a hand over his rough jaw, he pondered his options. He knew one thing: It was time to act. He tamped down the urge to just take the direct route, scoop her up and take her to his house for a nice long weekend of bonding.

  No. She needed to realize what she wanted first.

  Chapter Four

  Sara found herself still sitting at her desk on a summer Friday night, with a solid hour or more’s worth of work to do. She’d spent the past two weeks focused on nothing but the damn deal with Jack. And while he’d taken the opportunity to get all friendly with her which had resulted in some nice, long, flirty chats, the whole thing had her tied up in knots. He loved to text her with thinly veiled messages about hooking up, but he never actually asked her out on an actual date. The annoyance crossed with irritation mixed with anticipation was a buzz. But it exhausted her.

  It had been an abnormally hot June. The office, full of people all day, had finally emptied. Sara changed into comfortable clothes and readied herself for some quiet time in the empty space, even as she realized she’d passed on at least three invitations to go out for drinks with colleagues. The fact that she’d rather be here doing the busy work of her job on a lovely Friday evening instead of hanging out and pretending to flirt with the guys she saw every day wasn’t lost on her. She’d just pulled her hair up into a ponytail and focused on her computer when her phone buzzed.

  “Hey, Sara, I’m driving by your office right now.” The sound of Jack’s deep, raspy voice touched off something in her, as it did every time. Her brain slowly processed that he was proposing a face-to-face encounter.

  Like, now. As in, right now.

  “Are you there? As if I didn’t know?” He laughed and the sound of it sent a jolt of someth
ing wholly unfamiliar up her spine, landing at the base of her brain with a visceral sensation of simultaneous heat and cold. “I have a document for your buyer and I thought I’d just drop it off … you know, save us some time.”

  Shit.

  She glanced down at herself. One thing she loved was spending her hard-earned money on great clothes to show off her hard-earned physique, but she sure as hell didn’t have any of them on right now. In fact, she’d taken off a designer dress after an extremely lucrative closing at three p.m. and crawled into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from her college days.

  Figures. Jesus. Jack Gordon is on her way here and I look like I’m about to clean the damn office or something.

  She ran into the office bathroom, yanked out the ponytail holder in her hair, and tried to remember if she had lipstick in her purse.

  “Sure!” she claimed brightly. “I’ll meet you at the door.”

  She used the toothbrush she kept in the bathroom closet, then splashed water on her flushed face. Anger at the fact she felt frozen in place by the idea that Jack Gordon planned to simply “stop by” after hours to see her made her dizzy. In spite of her resolve to be strong, something in her was giving way, weakening her resolve to remain manless for as long as she could.

  Yeah, well, fuck that. He’s interested in you.

  She pep talked herself all the way to the front doors – a wide expanse of glass facing Ann Arbor’s main street. She heard the roar of his engine before she saw the car. Sara rolled her eyes.

  A Stingray. What else?

  Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself against the coming onslaught. She had work to do and would not be distracted by this – she couldn’t afford to be. But her body was already betraying her at the thought of him in her personal space. It was a familiar feeling. She’d been having wet dreams about him for the better part of a year. She sighed, determined that he’d likely never measure up to her fantasies but realized her hands shook as she reached for the door handle.