Hot Property

by Lacey Diamond

  A sick sort of churning sensation landed in the center of her stomach. She feared if she didn’t do something-anything, she might bring up the food she hadn’t had time to fully digest.

  “I have to be going anyway,” she told him as she put her plate on the tailgate.

  “But you haven’t had dessert.”

  “I’m sorry. The meal was splendid, but I-I promised a client--”

  “I understand.” Skylar looked more disappointed than disturbed. Betsy ordered her stomach to calm itself as she watched him reach into the backend of old Betsy and pick up the apple pie. “If you really must go, I insist you take this.”

  “The whole pie?”

  “We could share a piece over coffee in the morning,” Skylar said. “What time should I stop by?”

  What’s with this guy, Betsy wondered. He was about to propose marriage to Stephanie Rogers and here he was inviting himself for breakfast at her house.

  She was tempted to tell him seven would suit just fine. Her stomach even felt better thinking she’d see him again first thing in the morning.

  Have you totally lost your mind woman, Miss Sensible made her presence known after a long period of peaceful silence. What happened to the agreement the two of you made earlier anyway?

  “I don’t think sharing breakfast is such a good idea,” Betsy heard herself say.

  A moment of silence.

  “Suppose you’re right,” Skylar agreed as if he’d read her mind. “But I still want you to have the pie. What you can’t eat now, you can freeze.”

  “I didn’t know you could freeze pie. But then I’m no Susie Homemaker.” She smiled as she picked up the dessert and started for her car.

  “I’ll give you a call once I get the house under roof.”

  Betsy glanced over her shoulder at him with the thought the man was thinking of anything he could to keep her from leaving.

  “Any time you want to bring a potential buyer up before then is fine with me.”

  Betsy forced back the unexplainable tears coming in her eyes and put on a smile when she nodded in acknowledgment before ducking inside her car.

  Once she had the vehicle turned around and headed down the hillside, she looked into the rearview mirror and saw him standing on the hill, gazing in her direction.

  As Betsy turned onto the country road, she used the back of her hand to dry her cheeks and sniffled back several times, but the floodgates were unable to hold back the salty tasting liquid rolling down her cheeks and into her mouth.

  At the intersection, she rammed the gearshift into park and let her head droop over the steering wheel. She cried until her eyes squeezed out the final tear. She continued to sob as she slowly raised her head so she could see herself in the mirror.

  “Good grief!” she gasped at the frightful face staring back at her.

  What was happening to her? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried like that.

  She caught sight of a car coming up to her rear and didn’t wait for the sound of a honking horn to get moving again.

  Betsy turned onto the main street and headed for home. She knew the distance to her house was not far enough to work out all the conflicting thoughts bombarding her mind. The smart thing would be to blame all the emotional upheaval on PMS.

  Once she arrived home, took a shower, and pulled on her favorite one piece terry cloth short set, reality hit. Post Menstrual Syndrome wasn’t the culprit. Skylar Blakewood was. She was falling in love with the man. The tears could be blamed on knowing he didn’t share those feelings. After all, the man planned to marry Stephanie Rogers. Didn’t he?

  Betsy paced around her living room for the next hour trying to find a solution to her predicament. Then she remembered the promise to herself all those months ago to never let her guard down around a man.

  If she ignored the emptiness she felt when she and Skylar were apart, with any luck it just might go away. There was the other option. She could tell Skylar the truth. She’d fallen in love with him. Then she could be humiliated when he laughed at her.

  She crawled into bed after making the decision to get a grip on her emotions and throw up a shield of armor to prevent this from ever happening again.

  The grueling weekend of doing everything from a long motorcycle ride, swimming, then hiking up the side of a mountain to strengthen her body while she willed herself to fight emotions, had Betsy feeling almost normal by the time she strolled in the front door at work Monday morning.

  She smiled and nodded at Mary who was on the phone when she buzzed past her desk and up the stairs to her office. Settled behind her desk she checked her appointment book. The newlyweds were due in her office in a half hour to draw up an agreement on a house she showed them Friday. From there she had a day full of house showings.

  “Guess who I just got off the phone with?” Mary said, wide-eyed as she stepped on the landing.

  Betsy shrugged her shoulders. “I give up, who?”

  “Skylar Blakewood. He’s on his way over here.”

  “Now?”

  “Should be here any minute. He has a revised copy of the house plans for you.”

  Betsy twisted open the top button on her blouse before it totally cut off the air to her lungs. She had to get out of the building before she suffocated. Before Skylar arrived.

  “Oh by the way, you never did tell me what your Friday night meeting with him was about.”

  Betsy ignored her friend and slid the strap to her shoulder bag up her arm. A picnic and a kiss would sum it up for her. But Betsy didn’t have time to get into a discussion on either subject.

  “He wanted to point out where an addition will go,” Betsy offered as she slipped past Mary.

  “Where you going?”

  Betsy kept moving down the steps and toward the front door when she called back over her shoulder. “I have some banking to do.”

  “What about Skylar? He should be here--”

  “He can leave the plans with you.”

  Whatever Mary said fell on deaf ears. Betsy had already exited the building. She slipped down the alley that ran along the two story structure, a shortcut to the bank, two blocks away. She had no reason to enter the bank. She’d done her banking on Friday.

  Betsy turned the corner onto the main street of town. She traveled down the business district like a woman running from a fire; a fire of desire no amount of willpower and determination could extinguish.

  She found herself inside the corner drug store standing at the checkout counter with a bottle of Pepto Bismol in her hand. It was worth a try, she thought, but knew a dose of the awful tasting liquid wasn’t going to do a thing for the giddy sensation in the pit of her stomach. Her sickness couldn’t be cured with any kind of over the counter medicine.

  Slowing her pace considerably, she headed back toward the office. Hopefully enough time had passed for Skylar to have dropped off his house plans and gone on his way. But as Betsy approached the end of the alley, she spotted old Betsy parked across the street. She smashed her back against the brick building wall and froze.

  “What’s wrong with me,” she was finally able to mutter. Just because her body responded so vibrantly in his presence, she couldn’t spend the rest of her life hiding from the man.

  She closed her eyes, willed herself to concentrate, and within seconds flipped open her eyelids. Taking a deep breath, she shoved her chin in the air and peeled her back off the wall. As she rounded the corner of the building and headed for the front door, she repeatedly told herself her body parts would not begin acting up when she saw him.

  Betsy opened the door, about to forge onward, only to be stopped in her tracks by the sight of the large frame filling the doorway. She instantly got a whiff of the familiar cologne. A fluttering sensation tickled the core of her stomach. But she refused to allow this mild sensation to trigger anything more powerful. After all, it was her body and she was in charge of it and extremely proud of herself for not barreling smack into him when she came in
the door.

  “Finally!” declared Skylar as his eyes made a quick sweep down Betsy’s front, lingering slightly on her breasts before finishing the journey.

  His warm smile made her believe he was happy to see her, but Betsy noted the hint of sarcasm in his tone and responded in kind. “Finally? I’m very busy, Skylar. You can’t drop by whenever the mood strikes and assume I will be here or free to see you.”

  “Betsy!” Mary shrieked from behind her desk. “If you’re finished, there are customers waiting to see you in your office.”

  “And I wouldn’t think of taking up a second more of your precious time.” Skylar brushed past her on his way out the door.

  Betsy remained speechless and breathless as she watched him pass. Her silence continued as he crossed the street. By the time he reached old Betsy, panic set in. She took a quick look at Mary and took off after him.

  “Skylar,” Betsy called out as she darted into the street without looking.

  If it were not for the sound of tires squealing and a horn honking, he never would’ve looked back. But he did, just as Betsy jumped onto the curb.

  “Hey lady, you tryin’ to get yourself killed?” A man shouted from inside the passing car.

  Betsy mouthed a sorry, then looked away from him to see Skylar only inches away from her. His eyes, warm and gentle, gazed down into hers. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw his hands coming up the side of her like he was about to put them on her. Instead, he quickly dropped them to his sides.

  “You almost gave me heart failure, woman.”

  “The guy didn’t even come close to hitting me.”

  Skylar ran his fingers through the dark mass on top of his head. “You know you are-just don’t ever give me a scare like that again, okay?”

  Confusion filled her. What did he care if she got ran over by a Mack truck? Tempted to say as much, she bit back the words, but had no idea why.

  “I’ll look both ways before I cross a street again. Satisfied?”

  A displeased grunt came before the words. “What were you running after me for anyway?”

  Betsy finally released the firm hold on her breath, determined not to spout something about never running after a man. “I wanted to apologize for being so short with you.”

  “Not necessary. You said what was on your mind. I can appreciate that. When I need to see you again, I’ll be sure to make an appointment.”

  Betsy shook her head. “No. You’re a client. Clients can drop in whenever they want. It’s just that I’m not always in the office and--”

  “How was the pie?”

  Betsy peered up into the pair of eyes staring down at her. “Excuse me?”

  “The apple pie.”

  “Oh, the pie. It was delicious. Finished the last piece this morning for breakfast.”

  “I’m glad you liked it. So what kind do you want next time?”

  Betsy’s mouth opened, but it took a few seconds for the words to come. “I thought we agreed not to mix business with pleasure.”

  Skylar snickered. “I have yet to see an agreement that wasn’t made to be broken.” He slipped his arm around her elbow. “Now, I think I should see you safely back across the street.”

  Betsy jerked her arm away in protest. “I’m perfectly capable of crossing the street myself, thank you.”

  Skylar backed off chuckling. As he did, he slid his hands inside his trouser pockets and headed toward old Betsy. “Suit yourself, Miss Independence.”

  His words came to Betsy as she stood on the curb looking both ways down the street. Safe to cross, she stepped off the curb, feeling thoroughly confused and aroused from the leftover feel of his arm linked with hers.

  “I apologized,” she told Mary the moment she stepped inside and strolled past her desk, ignoring her look of disapproval.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting folks.” She apologized to the young couple sitting in front of her desk.

  “That’s okay. We have the whole morning free,” the bubbly new bride offered.

  Betsy sat down behind her desk. “Well let’s hope this doesn’t take that long.”

  “You don’t think there’s gonna be a problem getting mortgage approval, do you?” came from the groom.

  Betsy smiled with the hope of easing his tension, then gave the paperwork in front of her a quick scan. “Income and credit history look great. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Okay then, where do we sign?” he asked, lightening up with a smile.

  Betsy pulled a contract out from under files. “Before you sign this, we need to finish filling it out. Have you agreed on a price?”

  She tried not to stare, but couldn’t help noticing the indecision on their faces. This could take the duration of the morning, she decided, not pleased by the thought. She had things to do. The most important, trying to figure out what Skylar meant by his comment on contracts being made to be broken. What about his reference to her as Miss Independence? Had she jerked away from him to proclaim her independence or because her body began heating up the moment he touched her?

  Chapter Six

  Betsy had little time to think about anything but work over the next weeks. The Federal Reserve Board had dropped the interest rate and buyers were taking full advantage. Gobbling up properties as if they were afraid the rate would shoot back up without warning.

  The long hours and hectic pace made the days whirl by. With all the settlements Betsy had lined up for the end of September, she’d be able to get a few payments ahead on her business loan. If everything went as planned, she’d be able to sock away a sizeable chunk of cash for the land to build her dream house. She hadn’t found another hilltop but was confident she would.

  In her office, she kicked back in the desk chair, letting her thoughts drift. She’d been successful keeping thoughts of Skylar at bay. Not hearing from him had helped. He did say he’d call when the house was under roof. But that didn’t let her off the hook from feeling a twinge of guilt. As his Realtor, part of her job was to check on the progress of the house. She touched base with her other clients at least once a week. Why should Skylar Blakewood be any different?

  She checked her watch. “Six o’clock!” Betsy could’ve sworn she’d just said goodbye to Mary a few minutes ago. She’d daydreamed away an hour since Mary always leaves the office at five on the dot.

  Snatching her appointment book from beneath a stack of files, and seeing she had a free evening gave instant relief. The hour hadn’t been wasted. It gave her just enough time to catch her breath and get her second wind for an evening free of work.

  She left the office and stopped home long enough to jam a load of clothes into the washing machine and slip out of her dress and into a pair of jeans and tee shirt.

  Back outside, the chill of excitement that ripped through her had little to do with the crisp evening air when she hopped on her bike.

  She gunned the throttle until she was moving at a dangerous speed. But Betsy wasn’t thinking of what would happen if she blew a tire or lost control and ran off the road. Her thoughts were clear. She smiled as the cool wind slapped at her face.

  Turning onto the country road, she inhaled deeply to cleanse her lungs with the fresh scented air. She eased off the gas while she coasted down hills and around curves in the road. At the same time, she took in the breathtaking beauty around her.

  The forest of trees to her left and right were already blossoming with the splendor of autumn. Gold, red, yellow, orange and green batches of leaves sent a halo beneath the darkening evening sky.

  Betsy told herself it wasn’t intentional, but out of habit that she’d taken the turnoff bringing her to that once upon a time dreamland. No cause for alarm, she decided as she came to a stop near the base of the hilltop. She’d check the progress on the house so she’d know when she could start bringing prospective buyers. But when she focused on the peak instant panic set in.

  Spotting old Betsy on the hilltop meant Skylar was near. Then she caught sight of the tall and
round brick framework. She’d been right. Skylar and his work crew were erecting a castle. But it wasn’t the dreary stone gray monstrosity she predicted. It was white--pure and brand spanking new.

  As if it had called to her, she found herself halfway up the hillside before she realized it. She hesitated debating rather to turn around and high tail it out of there or proceed.

  “Sort of senseless to leave now,” she mumbled. But was she up to seeing him? Could she throw up the shields, and face the man like a client?

  She shut off the bike and pushed it in the direction of the house. But that didn’t mean she was comfortable with the choice she’d made.

  She hesitated a second time when she heard him humming a lively rock ‘n’ roll tune. She smiled. Her entire body awakened with a smile. Keeping her shields in place was the furthest thought from her mind when she worked down the kick stand on her bike and hurried toward the stimulating sound.

  When she saw him, her feet felt like they went out from under her. He had his back to her and was pounding a nail into one of the boards in the semi-finished room partition. His hair was out of place and speckled with saw dust. His sleeveless white tee shirt molded to his broad and tanned shoulders. Faded jeans hugged his long legs. The same legs Betsy had fantasized entwined around hers.

  She could’ve stood there and watched him work the remainder of the night. But she felt almost like a peeping Tom and decided it only fair to make her presence known.

  “Hard at work, are you?”

  Skylar stood motionless and silent for what seemed like forever before turning around. Then, another tense, yet exhilarating time span of silence. But their eyes seemed to be talking up a storm.

  “This is a surprise,” he said.

  “You’re working late. I mean isn’t the boss the one who’s suppose to quit early?” Betsy knew she’d rambled on to combat the powerful tidal waves of emotions breaking within her.

  “This isn’t work. Putting this home together is pure pleasure.”