by Marni Mann
I’d give all the agents a chance to be heard. But based on name alone, I already wanted Frankie Jordan.
“Forty-five minutes, you said?”
He nodded. “And I doubt she’ll be late.”
My phone vibrated from my back pocket. I pulled it out and stared at the text from my sister, Hayden. Why was she up so early? She couldn’t have gone running; she hated cold mornings and when her alarm went off before seven. She must have needed to be in court.
“I’m going to grab some breakfast,” Will said. “Tell Hayden I said hello, and if you need anything before Frankie comes in, let me know.”
He was more than ten feet away. My screen wasn’t visible from where he stood. “How’d you know who it was?”
“Your mom doesn’t text and aside from her, Hayden is the only other woman who makes you smile like you are right now.”
I’d never thought about it, but he was on to something.
“Will?”
“Yeah?” he called from the hallway.
“Can you have something nice delivered to Hayden’s office today?”
“It’s not her birthday, is it?” He appeared in my doorway again.
“Nah. She just deserves it.”
“I’ll have our assistant order something right now.”
“No.” Our assistant would order her a purse or a pair of shoes. I needed something more special than that. Will knew how to play to women’s emotions. “I want you to do it.”
He tipped his head. “I’ll take care of it.” No smile followed. When it came to Hayden, he knew better.
I looked down at my phone again, swiping my finger across the screen to pull up her text.
Hayden: You still haven’t heard anything?
Me: I’m meeting with Tamra today.
Hayden: That’s what you’re calling it now, brother? A meeting?
Me: I call it taking one for the team.
Hayden: Because it’s such a tough job. I’m almost jealous.
My meetings with Tamra were little talking and mostly fucking—fucking until those long legs could barely scissor to the bathroom. The few minutes of conversation were the only reason I continued to have sex with her. The fucking was her prize, not mine. Hayden assumed I enjoyed it because of the number of women I slept with. She was wrong. Tamra’s body was decent, but she wasn’t my type. If it wasn’t for the information she had access to, I wouldn’t have gone anywhere near her.
In the past, Hayden and I had come across other sources we could tap. We agreed Tamra was the safest for now. Hayden’s jealous comment needed to be just a comment, nothing more.
Me: I’d better not find out you’re doing the same.
My anger built as I waited for her reply. Several minutes passed…still, nothing.
Me: Hayden, I mean it.
She finally responded. It wasn’t the answer I was looking for.
Hayden: Meeting with the counsel. Talk later.
“Will,” I said into my phone, after his intercom connected. “Whatever budget you had planned for that gift, double it.”
“Noted. This is going to be fun.”
There was nothing fun about imagining my sister doing the same things with men that I did with Tamra. My job was to protect her, not pimp her out.
THREE.
FRANKIE
MY EYES SCANNED the length of Timber Towers as my driver opened the backseat door to the SUV. “Can I grab you some breakfast while you’re inside, Miss Jordan?” He helped me onto the sidewalk. “Don’t want your stomach to growl during your next meeting.”
“Just another coffee would be great, Norm. Feel free to get one for yourself, too.”
He tilted his head, the deep lines in his forehead creasing. Norm had been driving me to appointments for the last five years and had chauffeured my father around for many years before that. He seemed to know what my stomach needed before I did.
“And maybe a sour cream coffee cake,” I added.
His neck straightened, his lips spreading into a wide grin. “From your favorite bakery?”
There was a bakery not even a block from here. It didn’t compare to the sweets they sold at The Carrot Cake, which was on the other side of the Back Bay, but well worth the drive. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
“Thank you.” I flashed him a smile. “Why don’t you grab something for yourself, too. You have the company card with you?”
“I sure do,” he said, escorting me to the front of the building. I stepped through the door where a man stood just off to the side. He was dressed much more casually in comparison to the black suit and teal shell I wore.
“Ms. Jordan?” he asked, extending his hand.
I met his firm grip. “Yes.” Though the pictures I’d seen on the internet had been taken from a distance and were mostly out of focus, I knew he wasn’t Derek Block.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Will Mullen, Derek’s coordinator.”
I turned and nodded at Norm, my silent cue that notified him it was safe to leave.
“Please excuse our appearance,” Will said. “As you can see, we’re in the thick of the construction.”
I maintained a slow pace so I could take my time appreciating the architecture and beauty of Derek’s craftsmanship. There was something about the smell in here that struck me. It was earthy and romantic, relaxing yet jolting…sexually jolting. It reminded me of the cabin in Vermont I had rented with my ex-boyfriend a few summers ago. How the scent of the air on the back porch where he had stripped off my clothes was a mix of dense woods and mountain, the smell of the cedar sunroom we had made love in. I had been in most of the residential high-rises in this city, but none had ever touched me personally like this. None created a physical reaction like the one I was having now.
I cleared my throat, bringing myself back to the present. “No problem,” I said. “Though I’ve got to say, I’ve seen many states of disrepair, and not one has been as clean or organized as yours.”
“Derek’s standards are higher than most.”
“It certainly looks that way.” We walked deeper into the room while he described the plans for the lobby.
“It’s slated to be completed within the next three weeks,” Will said.
The floor was still exposed cement; the walls hadn’t been plastered, and wires dangled from the twenty-foot ceilings where lights would eventually hang. Three weeks was an aggressive deadline. But despite the unfinished construction, Block’s attention to the finer, more intimate details were everywhere: in the curve and cuts of the walls, the beams that ran across the ceiling, the shape of the entire room. If this lobby was a woman’s body, he was taking his time with her, caressing her neck, kissing down her navel, licking between her legs. He was making sure she was completely satisfied. I envied the residents who would eventually get to live here.
We neared the back of the room. Will stopped at the beginning of a mid-sized hallway and pointed to the first of four doors. This section of the building had been finished. “Sales office,” he said, “where the agent, whoever it may be, will be conducting on-site meetings.” The room was filled with contemporary furnishings and muted, calming colors. The decorator had created a perfect space for attracting potential buyers.
He pointed to the second door. “That’s our assistant’s office. My office is next to that, and Derek’s is last. Our main office is in Portsmouth, but we’ll be working here until the building is complete.”
Brea wasn’t able to find any information on where Derek was from or where he currently lived. I wondered if it was Portsmouth; that was where he had started his first residential development. I was also curious if he’d be staying until all the units were sold. Both questions seemed more appropriate to ask after I was awarded the job.
Will stopped in front of the last door. I stayed back, behind the wall that partitioned the office from the hallway. The silence was replaced by the sound of fingers typing on a keyboard
and the clicking of a mouse. In the seconds before Will introduced me, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and reminded myself why I was here: Our agency was the best in Boston, and I was its top agent. This was just like all of my previous preliminary appointments. The only difference was I’d never been under contract with one that had this many units. But I knew I could handle it, I just needed to make Derek believe that.
“Ms. Jordan is here,” Will said.
I opened my eyes, slicked down the front of my hair, and rolled my lips together to spread my gloss.
“Send her in.”
Will turned toward me and waved for me to come closer. “Can I get you anything to drink?” he asked.
“No, thank you.”
As he slid past me, my attention locked on the desk before me, and on the man who sat behind it. I froze when his eyes lifted and caught mine. Even my breathing stopped. My chest tightened, my lungs refusing to fill with air. “Mr. Block…” It came out as a gasp, though I hadn’t intended it to.
His eyes creased at the corners, as if he were trying to read my awkward reaction. After a few seconds of painful silence, he nodded. I wished he hadn’t.
“Miss Jordan, it’s nice to meet you.”
Miss. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one who had done my research. But that research hadn’t been all that effective. Those out-of-focus shots I had seen on the internet had done nothing to capture his looks.
Or his total lack of style.
Derek Block was anything but polished. He was brutish and grizzled, and as he stared at me, a rough, raw intensity poured from his electric blue eyes. His gaze was as primal as his appearance. Messy milk-chocolate curls sat on his head; his jaw was overly defined and covered in stubble that was well past the scruff stage. Despite a fashion sense that was as off-putting as a blemish, the man was gorgeous, more so than I was even comfortable with.
“It’s an honor, Mr. Block. I’ve…” My voice trailed off as he stood from his chair, a slow tingle pulsing between my legs.
“Why don’t you come in?”
I was startled again by the sound of him, of his deep, alluring tone. I didn’t realize I was still hovering in the doorway. Closing most of the gap between us, I moved to one of the chairs.
I hooked my bag onto the back of it, his fingers slicing through the air as they reached for mine.
“Call me Derek.” He enclosed my hand with a pressing strength that I assumed was lightened for my benefit.
Though his stare remained on my face, I wasn’t able to keep mine on his. I needed a break, a second to get myself under control.
Control…
I had obviously lost that, though I didn’t understand why. Polished men were all I knew, all I had ever been attracted to: groomed and well-dressed, pretty and sharp—even cocky and somewhat selfish. They were certainly never burly or animalistic like Derek. So why was he having this kind of physical effect on me?
And how could I make it stop?
For a moment, I lost sight of who this man was, that he could change the pace of my career and the position I held at my father’s agency. I had to remind myself of the reason I was here.
I took a deep breath and raised my eyes to meet his. “Then please, call me Frankie.”
“Frankie.” It sounded like he was swirling the word around in his mouth, his tongue sliding sensually over each syllable. “You’re punctual. I like that.”
“I value my clients’ time.”
He sat and pointed to the chair behind me. “Take a seat.” I made myself comfortable as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back into his chair. “Your timely arrival was the first part of this test. Now that you’ve passed, let’s move on to the second.”
For most of my introductory appointments, I knew to expect a verbal interview, sort of like an audition. But having my punctuality tested was something new. It all made sense now—Will emailing Brea and my father before five this morning, scheduling our meeting for such an early hour. He wanted to test my compliance, to be certain I would work on his clock and not mine. I respected that.
“You’re listed as the highest-selling agent in Massachusetts, which tells me you’re not just good at what you do; you’re also doing something your competitors don’t. I didn’t bring you here so I could hear your plans, or how much marketing money you would allocate, or the number of investors you have on speed dial. I’m sure it’s all impressive.” He paused, unfolding his arms to run his fingers over the side of his beard. I noticed the hunger in his eyes, how they watched me as though he wanted to seize and devour me. I wondered if he looked at all his potential associates that way, or if it was just me. That influx of desire lasted only a few seconds before he focused again. “I brought you here because I want to know why you want my building.” I opened my mouth, but he cut me off. “I won’t give you a chance to change your answer, so get it right.”
He spoke with little sympathy and plenty of dominance… but so did my father. One of the many things I had learned from him was to always come prepared, so I wasn’t intimidated by this second test. “You know I’m an excellent agent. That’s why I’m here. What you don’t know is when it comes to architecture, I crave texture, scent, a visual flavor so unique it makes my mouth water. What you’ve built here encompasses all three.” His expression didn’t change, though his eyes encouraged me to go on. “You’ve created a mood, a visceral sensation. I felt it when I walked into the lobby. Then I began to take in the design, the shape, the opulence, and the…” I searched for the right word, knowing I wouldn’t be getting another chance. “…sensuality of it all started to wash over me. This building isn’t for someone who simply wants a place to rest their head. It’s for someone who wants to feel sensual in their living space. In this case, wood and carnal really do go hand in hand.” What I had planned to say didn’t match with what had come out of my mouth. It was too late to tame it. I just needed to keep going and hope he understood that every word I was speaking was the truth—and it was, the throbbing need inside me confirmed that. “Derek, I know how to play with my buyers’ wallets. I want you to give me the opportunity to play with their emotions. Let me introduce them to the masterpiece you’ve created and explain to them why they need to live here.”
Beats of silence passed between us. If he gave me this listing, I’d be working harder for him than I’d ever worked for anyone before—even my father—because after seeing the inside of this building, even just a glimpse, I understood Derek’s talents. And I believed in him. This project deserved my best, a level I wasn’t sure I had reached until this recent inspiration… the one that continued to drum between my legs.
His pale lips parted, his tongue skimming the corner as his eyes roamed my face. “I’ll be in touch.” Then his hands moved to the keyboard and his attention shifted to his computer screen.
That was my cue to leave.
It was such a short interview, probably the shortest I had ever been on. The most intense, too. Since he had only asked one question, it put so much pressure on my answer. And with such a stoic expression, I couldn’t gauge his reaction. I hated that.
I stood from my chair and grabbed my bag. “I look forward to your call,” I said as I walked out his door. When I got into the backseat of the SUV, a coffee and pastry bag was waiting for me in the drink holder. The smell of both made my stomach growl. I took a bite of the coffee cake and caught Norm’s eyes in the rear view mirror.
“They were just coming out of the oven when I got there,” he said.
I covered my mouth with the back of my hand. “It’s amazing.” I swallowed, wishing the bite had lasted longer. “I should have asked you to get me two.”
He lifted his hand into the air, holding a second bag.
“You didn’t?”
“I did,” he said.
“You’re the best. Thank you again, Norm.”
“My pleasure.”
Knowing there were probably several emails I needed to reply to, I pulled out my
phone. There was a text from Brea on the screen.
Brea: How’d it go?
Me: He’s a hard one to read.
Brea: A second meeting, at least?
Me: He said he’d be in touch. I want this one. I REALLY want this one.
Brea: Are you talking about the building or the builder?
Me: You’re funny.
Brea: Did you change into the red heels like I suggested?
Me: I just rolled my eyes.
Brea: You should have worn the red heels…
Me: Go back to work. ;-)
FOUR.
DEREK
I WAITED until Frankie was halfway to the door before I glanced up from my screen, just in case she thought of a last-minute plea. I should have known…that wasn’t her style—or mine. She was too sharp to take another stab, and I was a one-and-done kind of guy.
But her ass?
That would take longer than an interview to admire. It was something that needed to be held and squeezed. Worshipped. Those tight black pants showed off her fit figure, one that she treated well and worked out frequently. There wasn’t any unnecessary jiggle going on in the front, either. She had a natural perky handful—just how I liked them.
The way she’d described my building—texture and scent and flavor, how the sensuality of my design was making her salivate…fuck. She was talking about more than architecture. What she didn’t know was the interview was only half of the assessment. The second half was guaranteeing her ability to attract and close buyers. My agents weren’t allowed to use their pussy—that would get them terminated—but I had to know they were capable of portraying an appropriate level of passion and desire.
Frankie was, making her an asset to my company…and to me. She was acute and fierce, intriguing and stunning; her answers had captured my attention. It was rare that someone could compel me to look nowhere but at them, yet she had me hanging on every word that came through those delicious lips. Even though those lips were much looser than her tightly wound body. But that had changed once my hand touched hers. She stopped breathing, and her muscles weakened with lust. Had it been that long since a real man had been between her legs? Or maybe she’d never had a real man between them at all.