“That would be great. If you’re sure you have the time. Wouldn’t it, mom?” Lacey said, finally noticing that her mother and Serena had been watching this exchange with some amusement. Her mom was smiling widely, and she knew that look. Diana was playing matchmaker, and that never boded well for her.
“By all means,” Diana said, following them through the archway to the formal dining room. ’Let’s take the special builder’s tour.”
*****
“He’s flirting with you,” Diana Ferguson whispered, pulling her daughter into the Show Home’s enormous master walk-in closet for some privacy. Her china blue eyes were wide with excitement and she clutched her daughter’s arm tightly to get her attention.
“You’re delusional,” Lacey responded, shaking her head in mild exasperation. Diana always thought men were interested in her daughter, and she was always wrong. They weren’t. Ever. But her mom’s conviction always made her smile. The previous month Diana had been certain that a real estate agent from a previous Open House had asked for Lacey’s number because he wanted a date. The fact that he was flamboyantly gay did not deter Mrs. Ferguson in the least.
Lacey was single for a very simple reason. At 32, the pretty brunette rarely encountered single, straight, sane men. Somewhere along the line, her life had become practically testosterone free. Her father, brother, and male cousins all lived in other parts of the country. Her coworkers were all women. Usually this was okay, but every 28 days or so, things could get a little spicy. Most of her clients at The Health Unit were of the ancient variety, so unless she developed a taste for saggy bottoms and liver spots, she was unlikely to meet anyone there. She went to a women’s gym, the people in her running club were all female or married, and even the college courses she’d taken to upgrade her nursing degree a few years ago had been dominated by women.
Men were like some kind of exotic species to her. Seen in the distance, but she rarely had the opportunity to interact with them on any kind of personal level. As a result, she had lost the knack for flirtation. When she did encounter an eligible guy she usually developed a case of verbal diarrhea or worse, clammed up and appeared downright aloof.
On some level she knew she had engineered her life this way. Her last relationship, with Barry, the accountant, had ended badly more than three years ago. She hadn’t caught him cheating or discovered he was a cross-dresser or anything so dramatic. He didn’t kick puppies, or belch excessively or belittle her in front of his friends. He was a nice guy. A nice guy who happened to find the prospect of spending anymore time with her completely uninspiring. He had simply said that life was short and he didn’t want to spend it being bored, with her. He needed some excitement, something to look forward to, and all he could see with her was routine sex and a lifetime of wondering if he was wasting his life.
Harsh, yes, but at least she had found out he before they had moved in together, or gotten engaged. That would have been really messy. After the initial hurt wore off, Lacey realized that he had actually done her a favor. She hadn’t exactly been head over heals with old Barry, but he had seemed like a good, solid, marriage prospect. At the time she'd thought perhaps passion was not a very practical consideration when it came to choosing a life partner. Compatibility, reliability and respect had seemed like an excellent basis to a committed, monogamous, long-term relationship. But it wasn’t, at least for Barry. And if she was really honest with herself, she wanted more too.
This disaster, in addition to being a first-hand witness to her parent’s horrific divorce eight years ago had convinced her that life without romance was so much cleaner and less complicated than constantly compromising with another person. Relationships were just messy and potentially painful. Bottom line was she hadn’t been willing to take a chance and trust another person after Barry had dropped the Boring Bomb. If it meant being a little lonely, then that was the price she was willing to pay to avoid having her heart stomped into little tiny pieces.
Recently, however, she’d started regretting her decision to give up on romance. When she hung out with her happily married friends, or watched a chick-flick where everyone lives Happily Ever After, she suspected she was missing out on something important. Something wonderful. When her promotion at work finally came through, she decided that it was time to put her personal life in order, too. She would try to make an effort to be open to meeting someone and to keep her mistrust at bay.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t met anyone worth the risk to her heart since making that decision. And it certainly didn’t help that she was addicted to romance novels. The studs in those books certainly made her hyperaware of what she was missing, especially on evenings when the thought of climbing into her bed alone seemed like the most depressing thought in the world.
She hated herself for needing anyone, but she wanted someone there to touch, someone to hold her and make her feel beautiful. And there never was anyone. Just her dog, Charlie. And he was cute as hell, but not exactly what she was looking for in a bed partner. He snored, for one thing, and had a tendency to chase squirrels in his sleep.
She wanted her dream guy. No compromises. If she was going to make an effort then she wanted someone incredible. Someone hot, but unaware of it; employed, but not a workaholic; kind, but not a doormat. In short she wanted the hero from one of her sexy novels, in the flesh. Damn those books. They made it just about impossible for average guys to measure up to her expectations. Until they’d come to this Open House anyway.
“I’m serious this time. Why would the builder be spending so much time with us if he’s not interested in you? That’s the real estate agent’s job. Not his.” Diana persisted, closing the closet door, so the stud-muffin in question wouldn’t overhear their conversation. He’d paused in the hallway outside the master bedroom to answer his cell phone.
For just a second, Lacey thought her mother might have a point. Why was he with them exactly? He’d spent the last half hour showing them all the impressive features of the Show Home and had only left them alone long enough to answer his cell phone. Could he actually be interested in her? A guy who practically oozed sex appeal like that? No way! He’s probably just a really friendly guy, she thought to herself.
“Maybe he’s trying to help sell this house? That is his goal, right? He’s just being very thorough,” Lacey said absently, admiring the customized closet’s many drawers and shoe shelves. There was even a small round window on the back wall.
She walked over, looked outside, and was delighted to see rose bushes, grass, and the Rocky Mountains in the distance. She sighed. Even the closet window has a view, she thought. Unlike her current apartment which featured a grim view of either a cinder block wall from the bedroom window or a front row seat to her creepy exhibitionist neighbor's bedroom from the patio. She shivered at the thought of his hairy, portly body squeezed into a schlong thong. Yuck! She’s kept her blinds closed since that unpleasant sight had assaulted her eyes a few months ago.
“He’s selling something, alright. But it’s not this house. You already told him it’s too big for you. Face it. He thinks you’re cute.” Diana gave her daughter a sly wink and pushed her toward the closet door. Lacey opened it to find Mr. Sexy Builder Guy standing on the other side, looking a little puzzled as to why they were checking out the closet with the door closed.
“We were just curious to see if the door closed all the way,” she said, giving him an inane smile. “It looked a little warped or something.”
“Warped? Seriously?” He asked, seeming downright offended that a door in one of his houses would dare to be sub-par. He maneuvered around her, brushing his large warm body against her in the process, and opened and closed the doors several times, examining it for flaws. “Looks okay to me. In fact, it looks pretty much perfect.” But he wasn’t looking at the door, he was staring intently at her with laughing green eyes.
Their gazes locked and Lacey felt the strangest sense of connection with him. Looking into his eyes seemed more intimate
than having sex with her ex-boyfriend. In fact, doing the nasty with Barry seemed quite cold compared to the weird electricity flowing between her and this stranger. Just a glance from him and her palms were sweating and her panties became as moist as a rain forest. She forced her eyes away from his before she embarrassed herself by completely losing control and launching herself into his arms.
She regained her composure and moved toward the master bathroom, putting as much distance as possible between herself and his mind-numbing, testosterone-induced brand of hypnosis. He must have an excess of pheromones or something, she thought. Or I’ve been without a man so long that I’m becoming hysterical from sexual frustration. That must be it. She was just imagining there was something between them. All she needed was a quiet evening alone with her battery-operated boyfriend and she’d be fine.
“Mom, did you notice the heated floors in the bathroom? Wouldn’t they be incredible on a cold morning?” Lacey called over her shoulder, acting as casual and nonplussed as possible considering she’d nearly assaulted a complete stranger in front of her mother.
Chapter Two
An hour later, Lacey and her mother were walking slowly toward the car. Alone. Not only had Mr. Superstud shown them the rest of the Show Home, he had also shown them the other three row-houses, which were in varied states of completion.
Lacey was impressed with both his generosity and talent. He was knowledgeable and obviously passionate about this project and answered every single question her mother shot at him with patience and humor. Lacey could tell that Diana was completely charmed and wouldn’t be surprised if she did the unthinkable and offered Lacey’s virtue on a silver platter if this continued much longer.
Unfortunately, her virtue seemed quite safe at the moment. As they’d been leaving the last property, he’d received yet another call on his cell phone and had excused himself to go back inside and answer it. They’d waited on the porch for a few minutes to say good-bye, and thank him for a tour, but his phone call had continued and they’d decided to leave. Standing around and waiting for him had seemed intrusive and a trifle desperate.
As they reached their vehicle, Lacey noticed Serena walking down the path from the Show Home toward them. She met them on the sidewalk between where Lacey’s Mini Cooper was parked at the curb and the sleek, white Mercedes.
“Wow,” Serena said, clearly shocked. “I can’t believe you’re still here. You really did get the grand tour, didn’t you? Jay usually can’t be bribed or threatened to do that. You must have caught him in a really good mood, or something.”
“He was really great. He showed us everything,” Lacey said, trying not to gush.
“Hmmm.... I’ll bet he did. It sounds like you really liked what you saw.’ Serena raised one finely arched eyebrow at Lacey, and it was obvious that she was not talking about the granite or the crown moldings.
“Well, they’ve done an incredible job here. We were very impressed, weren’t we, Mom?”
“Absolutely,” Diana agreed. “That young man knows his stuff. And is extremely easy on the eyes.”
“Mom! Seriously?”
“Well, he is. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice. Your eyes nearly fell out of your head when he bent over in front of you to demonstrate the built-in vacuum. You practically salivated, dear.”
“I certainly did not salivate!”
“Wipe your chin, dear, and we should be going.” Diana reached out for the real estate agent’s hand and they shook warmly. “Serena, it’s been a real pleasure. That dreamboat had to leave us to take an important call, so I hope you’ll extend our gratitude to him for being so gracious. We’ll be in touch.” With that, Diana let go of Serena’s hand, got in the passenger side of Lacey’s car and looked expectantly at her daughter.
“Ignore her. She just likes to ruffle my feathers,” Lacey said in an undertone to Serena.
“No worries. She’s hilarious. I wish my mom was that much fun.”
“She really is. But seriously, please let him know how much we enjoyed the tour, okay?” At this point, Lacey really wanted to ask his name, but if Serena was, in fact, his girlfriend as she’d thought when they arrived, she didn’t want to seem too infatuated. But then, with a man like that, Serena was probably used to women lusting after him.
“I’ll let him know. Thanks for coming in today. Please let me know if you have any more questions, okay?” She handed Lacey her card. “Or just stop in. I’m here on weekends from 1-4. At least until they all sell. I can’t guarantee ’The Dreamboat’ will be here, but I will be.” They shook hands and Lacey got in her car, started the engine, and reluctantly prepared to leave.
They had just started to pull away from the curb, when the man of her dreams came out of the final row-house they had been looking at. He broke into a run when he saw them down the road and his long legs ate up the pavement. Within seconds he was right beside her front window, smiling and tapping on the glass.
Lacey, delighted by this display of enthusiasm, put on the brakes and rolled down the window, grinning up at him, so happy this encounter was going to continue, if only for just a few more seconds.
“I’m glad I caught you,” he said, not even out of breath from his sprint. He pulled a business card out of his jeans pocket and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed as she took the card from his hand and she felt that jolt of electricity again. Their eyes locked and he leaned down until they were on eye level. “You should really call me,” he said, huskily. “I mean, if you have anymore questions. I’d really like to hear what you have to say. About the properties.”
Was it just her imagination, or did this Sex God sound nervous? “I think we probably know everything there is to know about them, but thank you. I’ll call you if I think of anything. And I’m certain my mom will probably come up with something to interrogate you about.” There, just the right tone. Professional, yet playful. She was getting better at this.
“Call me anyway. I’d really love your input. You see, my brothers and I are having a little competition. Instead of using a pain-in-the-ass interior decorator, we all chose one of the row-houses and each of us picked out all the fixtures and colors and stuff. You probably noticed that they were all a little different, right?”
Lacey nodded as her heart sank. He hadn’t been interested in her. He saw her as a guinea pig for some manly real estate competition with his brothers. She wasn’t a potential sex kitten to him at all. How could she be so foolish? She tried to keep her face impassive as he continued.
“Well, whichever house sells first determines the design scheme we’ll use for our next project, which is huge. And whoever is responsible for it will earn bragging rights until the end of time. So, give it some thought, and let me know which one you liked the best, okay?" He pointed to the card. "I’m really curious what impartial observers like you and your mom would prefer,” He said, smiling like he hadn’t just crushed her.
Lacey recovered quickly and returned his smile with an incredibly fake grimace. “I’ll think about it and let you know. Thanks again for the tour.” Lacey said, rolling up her window, she threw the card on the dashboard, put the car in gear and turned away so he wouldn’t see her face fall in disappointment.
*****
“When are you going to call him?” Diana asked eagerly, as they drove away from the subdivision. She grabbed the business card Lacey had flung on the dashboard and examined it closely.
“I’m not,” Lacey said, checking the rear view mirror to get one last look at him.
“Why-ever not? He really liked you. And you liked him. It was so obvious.” Diana rolled her eyes and tucked the card in the rear view mirror, where her daughter couldn’t help but see it, constantly.
Lacey snatched the card out of the mirror and threw it back on the tiny dashboard. “You heard him. Obviously, he’s not in the market for a girlfriend or whatever. He’d rather use us for some free market research.”
“So what? Can’t you do both? Work and play? You should
call him. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
“Maybe. But that’s the chance I’m willing to take. He’s way out of my league anyway.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“You said it yourself. He’s a dreamboat. I’m not his type at all. He should be with someone like Serena. Willowy and elegant. Not someone short and prone to gaining twenty pounds if they even look at a Twinkie. Like me.” She had meant to make this declaration sound light and self-deprecating, but her voice broke at the end and she felt tears of disappointment welling up in her eyes. She only hoped her mother wouldn’t acknowledge her obvious over-the-top emotional reaction. If Diana said one sympathetic word, Lacey was going to start bawling right then and there.
But she didn’t. Instead Diana said something so shocking Lacey nearly had to pull over. “Well, dear, if you’re sure you don’t want to make the first move, then I wouldn’t worry about it. You are most certainly just his type. And I’m sure you’ll be hearing from him.”
“What do you mean? 'I’ll be hearing from him.’ How would that happen exactly? I just gave our first names. Please tell me you didn’t slip him my phone number.” Lacey’s face flooded with color at the idea of her mom pimping her out like that. He was going to think she was positively pathetic. Not that she cared. Well, maybe a little....
“I thought about doing exactly that. But decided you wouldn’t be happy with me if I did something so obvious. No, I was more subtle than that,” Diana said smugly.
“What did you do, Mother?”
“Well, while you were attempting to chat him up, I was signing Serena’s guest book. With your name. And email address.”
“You didn’t.”
“I most certainly did.”
“Mom. How could you do that? Now I’m going to be flooded with emails from her. She's going to try and convince me to make an offer on one of those row-houses. Or even worse, she'll want to show me a bunch of properties I can’t afford either. You know real estate agents. They’re like pit bulls. Once they get a hold of you, they don’t let go.”
Open House (Kingston Bros.) Page 2