by Elley Arden
“Those dogs sure take their tug of war serious.” She flashed Grey a smile and brushed past him to the garbage bag.
Just the smell of her had him setting the beer on the floor while his back straightened. Full alert. There had to be some way to get her alone.
“Do I need to go back there and settle them down?” he asked, knowing he didn’t, knowing it was a long shot.
She stilled alongside the garbage bag. “Ah, maybe. There might be … ”
“Beer pong,” Joe wailed from the open space opposite the kitchen island, where he was trying to bounce a wadded ball of masking tape into a coffee-stained white foam cup. “Come on. Who’s first?”
Every one of them looked at Grey.
“Wait a minute.” Nel charged into the center of the circle of men. “You’re trying to get him drunk, aren’t you?” She spun around with finger pointed like the spinner on a board game.
Nobody said a word.
A smile crept across Grey’s face. They were trying to get him drunk. They were. And it was a brilliant plan. A drunk man passed out — he didn’t have sex.
“We’re done here. Let’s go. Move it out.” She was literally shooing them. “You guys think you’re so smart, but you’re not. Not at all. I could totally get in my car after you drop me off and drive right back over here.”
She paused for a noisy inhale and a growl, and then she scrambled around the kitchen picking up empty bottles and tossing them into the trash bag. “I should’ve known. Look at this.” She wiggled a bottle in the air. “We’ve been sitting here for how long and Greg’s only finished half a beer. Ridiculous.”
Silence.
Grey watched the guys accept their chastisement with stiff upper lips and downward cast eyes. He felt the tug again, the odd sense of sentimentality that overcame him when Nel and Paul were around.
She stopped in front of him, all five feet and change, chin lifted, shoulders back, and eyes like a gas-powered flame. He blinked and her lips were crushing his, her arms thrown round his neck, her body weight bending him at the waist. He didn’t dare open his mouth to deepen the kiss or raise his arms to hold her. He wanted to. God, he did. But any minute now, four sets of fists were going to take him down.
“There,” she said, swatting his chest as she released him, turning to face the other gaping men. “And for the record, I’m the one taking advantage of him.”
Six weeks having a disadvantage to Nel? Grey could live with that.
• • •
After Nel’s performance in Grey’s kitchen, her brothers backed off, agreeing to stay out of her personal life as long as they didn’t have to see anything else that made them twitchy. And to her surprise, the agreement stuck.
For the next three weeks she settled into a new daily routine, mornings at the office, private lunches with Grey — ahem — and evenings working on the house with some combination of her brothers. The progress was astounding.
But more than the house was changing. For the first time in ages, Nel was — more often than not — able to say Will who? without flinching when someone brought up Fortune. At first, she thought it was because all the physical exertion in and out of bed kept her too tired to worry about her next run-in with Will, but it was more than that. Even when she tried to play devil’s advocate and conjure his image to test herself, the emotion wasn’t there. Progress.
Enough so, she agreed to accept — in person — the award for Pittsburgh Real Estate’s Female Mover and Shaker. She wasn’t too fond of the title, but she wouldn’t turn down an award attached to publicity, even if it meant coming face-to-face with Will, who was up for the big one: Broker of the Year.
Okay, Will being named Broker of the Year — again? That bothered her, no matter how much progress she made, but she wasn’t going to let bitterness put a damper on the fun she’d been having lately. If she wanted to discourage happiness, all she had to do was count the days until Grey pulled out of Pittsburgh.
Nel frowned, but reminded herself he wasn’t gone yet. She stuffed the melancholy deep in her belly with help from a blueberry muffin and tried not to think about Grey leaving. It wasn’t even worth thinking about seriously until he was down to a week left — maybe even a few days. Rena said that tactic made Nel an ostrich. Funny how a few weeks of successful co-habitation made Rena an expert on relationships.
Not.
Nel wasn’t buying it. She also wasn’t buying Grey being anything more than her rebound from Will — despite the fact she’d broken up with Will a long time ago. There wasn’t a statute of limitations on something like that, was there?
It wasn’t even a relationship. They weren’t dating. They never left the house, and that house was the reason they were together. Take the house out of the equation and there’d be no “them,” no commonalities, no proximity — just a temporary need to sell a house in which they used their spare time to fill with sex.
Nel huffed, pushed her laptop aside and stared at the ceiling. Maybe she was lying to herself and Grey meant more than she cared to admit. The beauty of it was she didn’t have to admit anything. Nobody was holding her under dripping water. And it wasn’t like she had to worry about him reciprocating anything more than sex, so she could keep the mushy crap to herself. Caging her emotions was something she’d gotten good at after Will.
When she didn’t flinch after thinking about him, she smiled. If the only thing that came out of her association with Grey was an indifference to Will, then she’d take it … with both hands.
Bolstered, Nel decided these “lunches” with Grey needed to be on her terms, and maybe today she’d skip altogether. Just to prove she could. She was a strong, independent woman who didn’t need a man.
Her phone buzzed against the pile of papers stacked on her right.
Grey: Don’t forget the whipped cream.
Her skin tingled; her mouth watered. How could she let him down by not showing up?
She could compromise, prove to herself she didn’t have to rush over there and yet not leave him holding the can, so to speak. She’d go late and cut out early. It would be a weaning of sorts.
She had to start someplace.
• • •
Grey tossed a pile of his father’s clothes onto the bed in the master bedroom and went in search of a box big enough to hold the designer duds. Somebody at Goodwill was going to get lucky. He smiled, actually smiled, at something related to his father. It still blew his mind he could walk into the bedroom his father shared with Lindsay and not want to tear things apart. He just didn’t seem to care about them anymore.
What he did care about was whether or not Nel would remember the whipped cream she’d promised to bring. He looked at his phone again, anticipating her answer to his reminder text.
Nothing.
She was busy, probably with a client. Although if she was, she was going to be late for him. Grimacing, he looked as his phone again and reminded himself he’d see her soon.
Not soon enough.
The things he planned to do to her — with and without whipped cream. He chuckled. She’d been the best part of his day for the last two weeks. Heck, she was the best thing that happened to him since he arrived in Pittsburgh. And if he was honest with himself, she was the best thing that happened to him — outside of baseball — all year. Grey didn’t like putting so much pressure on a person. People usually let him down. But it felt different with Nel somehow.
He snatched a box from the pile Nel assembled with castoffs from a grocery store and headed back down the hall. The doorbell stopped him. She was right on time. His grin stretched ear to ear.
But when Grey opened the door, it wasn’t Nel. A tall, cool glass of water with long black hair and witchy green eyes flashed him a ruby-red-lipped smile.
“Hi, I’m Tawny Kellogg, the listing agent for the house acr
oss the street.” She thrust a bony hand toward him. Her sparkly fingernails looked long and sharp enough to draw blood.
Two seconds after she introduced herself, Grey couldn’t even remember her name. As far as he was concerned, she was Lindsay 2.0.
He shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “Did you need something?”
She blinked — a lot. Her eyelashes fluttered, and her smile widened. “Well, as a matter of fact, I’ve been in and out of the neighborhood for a while now, and I couldn’t help but notice the dumpster. Are you preparing to sell, Mr … ?” She arched skinny black brows as though she expected him to offer his name.
Grey was beyond meeting people’s expectations. “I’m just doing some work for the new owners.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.
“Oh, so the house sold already?”
“The house changed hands.”
“I see.” She swayed to one side, flashing her eyes to the space behind him.
Grey straightened, swaying a tad, too, hoping to block her view. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
“Of course.” She blinked up at him, and her tongue darted out to kiss the center of her top lip. “God,” she breathed. “I’d do anything for a tour. I’m a great lover of strong, sturdy … architecture.”
He bet she was. Too bad for her, Grey had never been an eager tour guide.
“I can tell you right now the owner wouldn’t be comfortable with that.”
The owner also wasn’t comfortable with Nel showing up while Lindsay 2.0 was here. If he didn’t do something quick, everything would blow up in his face.
• • •
Nel braked as soon as the house came into view. A woman stood on the front porch, garnering an audience from Grey. Her stomach bottomed out. A short wrap coat hid the woman’s attire, but from the miles of visible legs Nel knew she was either wearing a short dress or a mini-skirt — and ridiculously high heels.
The FOR SALE sign across the street swung in the breeze. Tawny Kellogg. Only Will’s agents dressed themselves like high-class call girls.
Why was Tawny there?
Ice filled Nel’s veins. Maybe they knew about the house getting ready for listing. Fury lifted her foot off the pedal, and for a split second she aimed to floor the gas and take out Miss Kellogg right there in the grass. But Nel blowing her cover wasn’t going to help things. She needed to trust Grey. He didn’t want anyone to know the details of his project anyway, so let Tawny try.
Nel edged the car to the side of the road and meant to relax, but the conversation on the front porch stretched out longer than she expected, with Tawny tossing her head back and her black hair waving in the wind.
Nel’s hands death gripped the steering wheel. What the hell? Why wasn’t Grey getting rid of her? He knew Nel was on her way. Heck, she was late. Wasn’t he worried?
Nel leaned closer, trying to get a better read on Grey, but he was too far away for her to see his expression. Her hands tightened further, and her jaw followed suit. She wanted Tawny to go. Better yet, she wanted Tawny to pull a neck muscle the next time she tossed back her head. Nel snarled — the woman was infringing on her territory.
If she could’ve, she would’ve kicked herself for playing games and coming late. If she’d been here — she glanced at the whipped cream can poking out of her purse — Grey would’ve been too busy to answer the door.
Why is she still there? Nel growled. He couldn’t possibly be falling for anything that woman said. Nel hated to admit it, but her jealousy meter was through the car roof. This was Nel’s time. That was Nel’s listing. And Grey was Nel’s man.
She dropped her forehead to the steering wheel and sighed.
Two out of three wasn’t bad.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Five minutes ago, Grey was worried the agent-turned-flirt wouldn’t leave. Now he was worried Nel wouldn’t come.
He called her again, unsure of whether or not he should be worried — in three weeks, she’d never been late for a lunch date. What if she got in a wreck?
His foul mood, brought on by that ridiculous woman’s inquisition, multiplied. At least Tawny was gone, and not lurking across the street. He looked out the front window to where her black BMW had been parked, and wondered how many more unannounced visits he was going to have to put up with. She didn’t seem to understand the word no.
He sneered and roughed up the hair on his face. The closer he got to spring training, the more he thought about shaving off the beard, but he was glad he hadn’t pulled the trigger yet. Was it possible she recognized him? Sure, it was. That would explain the surplus of flirting. Then again, maybe she really was just interested in this house. The structure had the same effect on Nel.
He looked down at his phone and frowned. Still no text or call from her. Before he could do something about his building worry, he looked up and out the window, finding something infinitely better than a text.
Nel’s car was in his driveway. Finally.
Grey pushed out the door and took a big breath of crisp, cool afternoon air. He met her halfway down the front walk, anxious to get his day back on track. But she looked … off. No smile. No words to explain her late arrival. Her face was blank.
Dread slowed his steps.
As she approached, he saw the red cap from a can of whipped cream stuck out of her purse, and the sight reassured him. Not that this … whatever this was … was all about sex. These past few weeks, while she’d been ridding him of his clothes, she’d also — somehow — rid him of his resistance to relationships enough to have him thinking of ways they maybe could make this work. He supposed great sex helped boost the appeal of keeping her part of his life, but it was more than sex — it was her. The way she looked at him, talked to him, made him talk to her. It was like she held the key to opening him up and pulling all the ugliness out, and he didn’t want to go back to before that.
“Are you okay?” he asked, reaching for her arm.
She nodded, pulled away and glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t.”
Damn. “You saw her, didn’t you?”
There was enough distance between them for another person, and she seemed to want more, walking with one foot on the concrete and the other on the grass, despite her high heels.
“What did she want?” Nel’s words were forced, clipped. They sounded nothing like her. Not even when she was annoyed by her brothers, or stressed by the amount of work they faced in a limited timeframe did she sound so agitated.
He needed to pick his words carefully, but he didn’t want to lie to her. First of all, what did he have to lie about? He’d done nothing wrong. He hadn’t sought out that woman, and he did his damnedest to get rid of her. But telling Nel the woman was sniffing around the house — and him — wasn’t going to help Nel’s mood. For a split second, he entertained the idea of not telling her everything, but her wide, clear eyes stared back at him like a mirror to his soul, and he knew she deserved the truth.
Grey sucked in some air and blasted it out his mouth, ready for things to get worse before they got better. “She wanted to list the house.”
“And?”
“And I think she was looking to … you know … get with me.”
Nel’s blue eyes turned glacial. She tucked her chin in like she’d been sucker-punched, and though he didn’t know exactly what he’d said wrong, he knew it was something big. He regretted his haphazard collection of words more than any other words he’d ever said — and he’d said some doozies.
“I was asking about the house. Tawny wanted to list the house, and I was asking what you said to that. She works for the most successful agency in town. They can be … persuasive. You and I don’t have a contract. You’re free to go with whomever you’d like.”
“We’re talking about the house, aren’t we?” He honestly wasn’t sure. The words see
med directed at their business agreement, but her eyes locked onto him like they did sometimes during sex, wide and magnetic, and he felt a connection that could bring him to his knees.
“I don’t care about the rest,” she said, snapping the connection.
Could’ve fooled him. She sure as hell looked like she cared. Granted, he didn’t have the sharpest instincts when it came to women. But it was hard to miss how she stumbled over those words and attacked her bottom lip with her teeth when she’d finished speaking. Maybe she was just worried about the house. As if he’d consider listing with someone else. After everything she’d done for him.
“This is your house, Nel.” He closed the gap between them and let his palms ride the curves of her shoulders. “I’d never do that to you.”
She broke eye contact, inhaled and exhaled. “Thank you.”
Something still wasn’t right. Despite the influx of air, her muscles bunched beneath his hands. He rubbed, pulling his fingers over the knots at the base of her neck. This was not how he wanted to spend what little time they had together.
Grey lowered his lips to her temple, certain he could chase the tension away. “I see you brought me whipped cream,” he whispered into her ear.
“Yep.” But there wasn’t an ounce of give in her body.
This was going to take some work.
• • •
Nel wanted to give in. She wanted to quiet her mind, relax her muscles, and follow him to bed. But she didn’t. Everything locked tight, from her jaw to her toes to the tips of her heels. And she knew why. She didn’t feel like having sex because she was feeling too much like a jealous girlfriend.
Which was not cool. It made her weak, and it undermined her business judgment.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked, still doing his best to massage the stress from her neck.
It was working — sort of. The heat and pressure from his palms felt good. It started the relaxation process, but then she thought of Tawny on the front porch wanting to get with him, and the tension built into a nagging headache.