by P. J. Mellor
He leaned against the spa, arms stretched along the tile, enjoying the view while he waited for his brain cells to reengage. Dang, the woman had a hot body. His cock twitched with renewed interest when she bent to pull her thong up over her wet legs. He wanted to say something, to tell her how special it had been or at least how great she was, but all he could manage to say was, “Don’t bother putting them back on, darlin’, ’cause I’ll just take them off again as soon as I get my second wind.”
A sarcastic comeback he could have taken. An incredulous laugh he could have taken. He could have even taken casual indifference.
But when she looked at him like he was something that just crawled out from under a rock, he found he couldn’t take it.
“Don’t even try to tell me you didn’t enjoy what just happened,” he warned, rising from the churning water and reaching for his shorts. “‘Cause I’d just have to come over there and make a liar out of you.”
He was right, of course, Andrea thought as a little thrill streaked through her at the prospect of exactly how he would accomplish such a task.
The doorbell chimed again, dousing any remaining embers of passion she may have been inclined to stoke.
Whoever was at the door was obviously not going away. Her car was in the driveway; they knew she was inside.
“For God’s sake, Junior, get out of the damn spa and get dressed! Someone’s at the door!”
Her train of thought was temporarily derailed as she watched him step into his shorts. If it wasn’t for the very real possibility of being caught, she could think of several other ways to slake her lust with his willing young body.
He straightened and looked at her as though he could read her lecherous thoughts. “Now what?”
She straightened her suit and stepped into her shoes, taking a quick glance around the pool area to make sure they hadn’t left any evidence of their tryst.
“Now we go back into the house and I answer the door.” Thank goodness she hadn’t replaced the key in the lockbox. If it was another Realtor at the door—which, in all probability, it was—they would have stumbled onto her and Connor’s private sex show, quite possibly ruining her business.
“Should we turn off the spa?”
Shaking her head, she turned to take one last look before leaving the patio and winced. “No, but please dispose of the condom floating around in the middle.”
Striding to the front door, she swallowed a groan. Even through the beveled glass, she easily recognized her rat-fink ex-husband.
Plastering on a smile that was more baring of teeth than a statement of pleasure, she swung open the door. “Rich! Fancy meeting you here. Unfortunately, I’m showing the property—”
“So that’s why you didn’t replace the key in the lockbox, huh?” Her ex swept past her, an older couple in his wake. “Please,” he told the couple, “feel free to roam around, get a feel for the place. After all, if you act fast, it could be your new home!” He stepped close to Andrea and lowered his voice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You have no right to hold the key, preventing me or anyone else from showing the property. I know you’re probably desperate to make a sale, but this is low, even for you.” He stopped and gave her a once-over. “How did you get all wet?”
“It was an oversight; I simply forgot to replace the key.” Jaw clenched, she ignored his question about her suit while she looked over his shoulder for Connor. “If you’d kindly take your clients and wait on the patio for a few minutes, we’ll be out of your way.”
“No way. I know you. You’re going to put pressure on your client to make an offer, which you will then run to the seller with before I can get anything in writing.” He narrowed already-beady eyes. “You always were a conniving bitch—”
“Excuse me?” A familiar voice came from behind Rich. Andrea held her breath, hoping her ex didn’t put two and two together when he saw the dampness clinging to Connor. Rich always had a sixth sense for sex. It was like he could smell it.
Rich turned. “Yeah? What?”
“I think you owe the lady an apology.”
“Bullshit! I don’t owe that cunt anything except a long hard—”
Connor’s fist connected squarely with Rich’s face, knocking him flat.
“Ow.” Connor shook his hand, hopping from one foot to the other. “I had no idea it would hurt me, too.”
“Good job, Junior. C’mon, let’s get out of here before he wakes up.”
Andrea concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, then on fastening her seat belt and putting the car in gear.
It wasn’t until she’d dropped Connor at his hotel and called Lisa to meet her for drinks that she allowed a smile to creep out as her mind replayed Connor knocking out Rich. Damn, she’d never had her very own knight in shining armor.
She liked it.
7
“A party spa,” Andrea said an hour later as she took a sip of her margarita and leaned back in the pedicure chair. She looked over at Lisa. “Leave it to you to find something like this.”
Lisa’s nose wrinkled with her impish smile. “Isn’t it TDF?”
“TDF?”
That earned an eye-roll. “Duh. To. Die. For.”
“Nothing is worth dying for. Not even a spa that serves margaritas.”
“You take things too seriously. Loosen up.”
“You’d be amazed at how loose I’ve become of late.” The thought of her loose activities that afternoon with Connor had her struggling to keep from squirming in the big chair. She took a long swallow of her margarita and must have breathed in because she choked.
“Drea, are you okay?” Lisa put down her own drink and reached over to thump her friend’s back.
Andrea drew in a breath between gagging and coughing. “Yes,” she sputtered, “just went down the wrong way.”
After they’d settled back with their drinks, Lisa grinned over at her. “Okay, I’ll bite. Exactly how loose have you been lately? What? Did you forget to enter something into your to-do list? I know! You didn’t pick up your dry cleaning.” She chuckled. “You rebel, you.”
“Ah, no.” Andrea waited until the manicurist finished laying the hot stones on her legs, covered them with a towel, and walked away before she answered. “Not even close,” she whispered, then leaned a little closer. “I had sex.”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “No offense, but I think you’ve done that a few times since I’ve known you. Although I did notice you have sort of a glow. What makes this different?” Her eyes widened. “No! You did not have sex with your newest client, Mr. O’Something?”
“You know perfectly well what his name is. O’Brian. Connor O’Brian.”
“Yeah. Him. The old guy, right?” The twinkle in her eyes told Andrea her assistant also knew Connor was far from old.
“You knew he wasn’t old, didn’t you?”
Lisa took a swig of her drink and waved her hand negligently. “BFD. It’s not like you’re robbing the cradle or anything. I checked him out. You’re not even five years older.” She shrugged. “What harm did it do to let you think he was old for a while?”
“You have no idea.”
“So.” Lisa leaned across the space separating their chairs. “How was it? How was he? I saw his picture.” She fanned her face with her newly manicured hand. “Whoa, baby. That’s one showing I wouldn’t have minded.” She winked. “Not that I’d have shown him everything you did, boss.”
Ignoring the innuendo, Andrea narrowed her eyes. “Where did you see a picture of Connor O’Brian?”
Lisa shrugged. “IDK. Maybe a magazine or something.”
“A magazine or something. Right. Why do I think I was set up?” She set her empty glass on the built-in tray on the arm of the chair and faced her friend. “You were the one who went over and turned on the spa at the Ocean Drive house, weren’t you?”
“Hey, I was just trying to help. We both know property shows better when it’s staged. Since the furniture is out, I thought the best
selling point would be the pool area. So…did it work? Did he make an offer?”
“No. No offer. Not on the house, anyway.” Connor’s heated words, telling her exactly what he wanted to do to her, echoed through her mind, bringing a flush to her cheeks.
“Ooh! Do tell.”
“There’s nothing to tell, Lisa.” She took a sip of her margarita. “Oh, get this! Rich just happened to come by to show the house while we were there. How’s that for a coincidence?”
“Do you think it was a legit showing? Big brother has pulled stuff like that before.”
Andrea thought for a moment. “You know, now that I think about it, the couple really wasn’t the demographic for that kind of house.” She grinned. “Now I’m really glad Connor decked him.”
“RUK? He did that?” Lisa sighed and batted her eyelashes. “Our hero.”
Trying to banish the same thought, Andrea raised her glass. “Uno mas, por favor!”
“Um, Drea? They’re Vietnamese; it’s doubtful they speak Spanish.”
“Oh. I knew that.” She ran her tongue around the edge of the empty glass, savoring every last taste. “But they still make a damn good margarita.”
An older woman walked out with a sweating pitcher of margaritas, smiling and nodding.
Andrea and Lisa smiled and nodded back, holding out their glasses for a refill.
“So now what?” Lisa asked, settling back in the chair as she punched the massage controls.
“What do you mean?”
“Drea, it’s a pretty simple question. Now that you’ve, you know, how do you plan to proceed? I mean, as the saying goes, once you’ve had sex, you can’t go back to holding hands, if you know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. Explain.” Just the thought of having sex with Connor again brought a flush to her face that had very little to do with the margaritas. But maybe Lisa had a point. “Are you saying I should dump Connor as a client? Lisa, we need this sale, remember? I’ve already invested a lot of time, put in a lot of legwork.”
Lisa snickered. “Not to mention other body parts.”
“Very funny. I’m a professional. I can control myself and continue the agent/client relationship, following through to the sales contract.”
Lisa sighed and set her glass aside. “Drea, I’m not questioning your professionalism or work ethic. We both know you excel in those areas.” She shrugged. “I guess I’m just questioning your motive. Your true motive.”
“I didn’t have a motive. It just happened.”
“BS. I’ve known you for ten years, and I have yet to see anything just happen with you. You plan every minute detail of your life. If this wasn’t planned”—she held up her hand to stop Andrea’s automatic protest—“and I believe you when you say it wasn’t, I just have to question your subliminal motive.”
“For the last time, I’m telling you, there was no motive! Subliminal or otherwise.”
“Exactly.” Lisa looked annoyingly smug. “I think there’s more to it than hormones and opportunity. I think, on some level, quite possibly a primal one, you responded to whatever it is that’s hardwired into Connor O’Brian’s DNA.”
“What! That’s ridiculous. It was happenstance. Serendipity maybe, even.” Andrea paused, unable to control the warmth flooding through her at the thought of the afternoon delight she’d indulged in. But what Lisa was suggesting was preposterous, even for Lisa. “It was…I mean, it was just…well, unless I somehow thought it might sweeten the deal.” Her mouth pulled down. “We see how well that worked.”
Of course, though difficult to admit, she’d basically prostituted herself for the sake of making a sale; it was, in all probability, the essence of it. Would she do it again? Heated memories flashed through her. In a New York minute.
“Oh, give it up, Drea!” Lisa’s voice brought her back to the conversation. “Admit it. It was to hell and gone more than casual sex.”
8
Connor winced as he placed the ice bag on his bruised knuckles.
“Are you still there?” Bill’s disembodied voice echoed in the hotel suite.
“Yeah. I just put fresh ice on my hand.”
“Dude.” Bill’s laughter was in the word. “I still can’t get my mind wrapped around you decking a guy. That’s so un-Connor.”
“Like I said, he had it coming. But the thing that gets me is it turned out he is the Realtor’s ex-husband.”
“Ouch. Bet that was awkward.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” Damn. He wasn’t the kind of guy to kiss and tell. Why couldn’t he keep his big mouth shut?
Maybe Bill wouldn’t notice.
“Oh, yeah? What’s the Realtor look like? Is she hot? Hey! You two didn’t…?”
“Don’t be a jerk. She’s my Realtor, for cripes sake. I’d have reacted like that when any woman was treated that way.” He flexed his aching hand, then had an immediate flashback to the way his hand had looked on Andrea Redd’s porcelain skin. And farther south. The image had his dick twitching, eager for more action.
No doubt about it, he needed to date more.
“Well, like I said, beware of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. But, then again, maybe if she’s hot and available, she might be persuaded to sweeten the deal a little. You know, you scratch her itch, she’ll scratch yours? You’re the efficiency expert. Think of it as multitasking!” Bill’s laugh boomed from the walls of the empty sitting area.
“You’re a real asshole, you know that?” Connor dropped the ice bag and walked to the speaker phone. “I’m starving. I need to order room service. Besides, this conversation is over.” He pressed the OFF button, then stood staring at the phone.
What he’d told Bill was true. He really was hungry. But Bill had unknowingly planted the seed.
Had Andrea had sex with him simply to make a sale? More importantly, would she have done something like that?
Not that he really cared. Andrea Redd was not his type. If he had a type, which he did not. Not after his experience with Whitley. Maybe that was his initial attraction to Andrea, since she was definitely Whitley-esque. Maybe he needed to prove he’d moved on and was now immune to powerful women.
Then again, maybe he was an idiot, doomed to repeat past mistakes. After all, he’d never been the casual-sex, love-’em-and-leave-’em type of guy. It would make sense, in a perverse sort of way, that he’d read more into the encounter with his sexy Realtor than truly existed. Pathetic. That was him, lonely and pathetic—despite being touted as one of Houston’s most eligible bachelors last year.
Change occurs only when the subject is open and conducive to it. A leopard may not be able to change its spots, but he could change the behavior that caused heartache by remaining detached. After all, sex was a physical response to stimuli. It was only natural for his response to be in direct correlation to Andrea’s sexual aggression.
Still pathetic, but natural.
Appetite gone, he stripped on his way into the bathroom and stepped into the stinging hot shower, closing his eyes, willing images of Andrea’s perfect, naked body from his mind.
His soapy hand slid to his more-than-semierect penis. Damn, he wished Andrea was here, wished it was her hand caressing him, stroking his balls.
His hips bucked at the thought, his erection jerking to attention.
He couldn’t remember ever feeling the way he’d felt that afternoon. No woman had ever had the immediate effect on him that Andrea Redd had. Ever. The effect she obviously still had.
His breath hitched while his heart threatened to break out of his chest.
Just sex, just sex, just sex…
His climax came fast and hard, leaving his knees weak. He slid down the wall to sit on the floor of the huge shower. A shower obviously built with more than one occupant in mind. And he couldn’t help but envision Andrea beside him, stroking him. Kissing him. Loving him.
Which was totally ridiculous. They’d had sex. End of story. Now it was his decision as to whether he continued looking at
beach houses with her or switched Realtors. Or cut his losses and left the island entirely.
Regardless, one fact remained.
He was still alone.
Despite having world-class sex just a few hours earlier. Despite being pretty sure Andrea wouldn’t be opposed to a replay. Or several repeat performances. Despite having just taken the edge off via masturbation.
He was not only alone, but he was also lonely.
9
Andrea willed away her tequila headache and glanced at her cell as she walked into the elevator of her office parking garage the next morning. No messages.
Like a fool, she’d slept with the damn phone on her nightstand, just in case. In case Connor O’Brian called. What was her problem? Was she reverting to junior high behavior?
It was stupid and asinine to mope around. She was a mover and a shaker. She didn’t have time for…well, for relationships. Not that what she and Connor had shared was a relationship. Not that she’d want it to be. No, sir.
But the fact that she hadn’t heard one word from him gave her pause. Had she just been a convenience? Had what they shared been merely a way for Connor O’Brian to get his jollies, relieve a little pressure?
She didn’t want to believe it. She knew when a man was interested, and Connor O’Brian had been interested. More than interested.
The alternative was too humiliating to contemplate.
On the bright side, she noted, checking messages and e-mails at her desk, he hadn’t canceled their morning appointment.
“Lisa.” She leaned toward the edge of her desk, scanning her schedule. “Lisa!”
“I said what!” Lisa skidded to a stop just inside the door. “Must you yell like that?” She rubbed her furrowed brow. “One of us has the hangover from hell.”
“I warned you about the Jello shots.”
“Hey, they were free, since the bridal shower had canceled. No point in letting them go to waste. Anyway, you bellowed?”
“Yes. Did you put in the call for the limo for my morning appointment?” Thoughts of what she and Connor could do in the relative privacy of the back of the stretch limo owned by Redd Hot Properties had her all but squirming on the seat of the padded leather desk chair. Of course, it was only a fantasy. She knew better.