Seven a.m. isn’t too early for a business meeting.

With a stranger.

Who doesn’t know I’m coming.

I park and get out of my truck. This is the first time I think it has seen a dirt road. I’ll have to hit a car wash on the way back into town. Who the hell would want to live out in the middle of nowhere like this?

From somewhere past the house, I hear water. It’s no surprise, I know a river runs along the backside of the barn that stands against the backdrop of the mountain.

I’ve already had ideas to make this place worth so much more. Condos. River view condos on one side. The other could be marketed as ‘nestled in nature.’ I could zone and build forty condos here, if I wanted to waste space and spread them out.

If I wanted to zone as a subdivision, I could fit nearly a hundred of the damn things. I could even leave in some trees to please the housewives wanting to believe they’re closer to nature right around the corner from their Whole Foods.

All the while, I’d sit back and collect rent.

This place would make my fortune grow substantially, and I’m never one to pass up on an opportunity like that.

Straightening the lapel of my suit – might as well make a good first impression – I walk up the front porch and take a deep breath. All the fury I’d felt from last night hasn’t dissipated. If anything, the aggravation feels like it’s grown. The pit of ire has matured into a great ball of darkness that taints every interaction I have.

Even Olivia seemed shocked by my short temper.

And she’d avoided me, even after I apologized to her and told her that I wasn’t upset with her, I was mad at someone who was being mean and not playing by the rules.

So I’d gotten the hell out of the house early. No need to create more issues. Olivia’s got enough stress on her plate, I don’t want to be the cause of more. Sandy had made sure I’d gotten an earful last night when I got home. Apparently, Olivia has been starting fights at school, but not between her and another party, no, she’s more clever than that.

She does something, and then tells the person that someone else made her do it and watches all hell break loose.

I’d be proud of her cunning if I wasn’t so upset that her therapist told me we were past this kind of behavior.

Before me, the ranch door opens and I’m met by curious green eyes that are strikingly cat-like.

“Can I help you?” The woman steps out on the porch and I can only take in every detail of her. The socks on her feet don’t match – one’s purple with little green watermelons all over it, and the other is yellow with orange suns. Her light colored jeans hug her slim, well-shaped legs. There’s a curve in her thighs that looks like she’s spent more than her fair share of time straddling a horse. Or a man.

The errant thought is all my cock needs to stand at attention.

Her hips are rounded and give way to a narrow waist line. She’s wearing a white tank top and a black sports bra under it, and all I want is to pull the thing off her and free those beautiful breasts. The curve of her shoulders to her neck beg me to kiss along them. Even her ears, the delicate shells of them, are beautiful.

Her jaw is flared and her chin is pointed. Wide cheekbones are dotted with a light dusting of freckles and she’s pale – almost too pale. Her nose is small and straight, a perfect addition to her already pleasing features and speckled with more of those cute freckles. But those eyes, all wide and green, framed by starburst golden lashes, capture my attention and hold me hostage.

Her hands come up and grab the free flowing locks of golden brown hair and she twists it all up and piles it on her head in an effortless move that leaves her both messy and appealing all at once.

My cock pulses at how deft her slim, pretty fingers are.

She arches an eyebrow at me, and I clear my throat.

“Is, um, your husband here?” Surely she’s not the owner of this place. She’s got to be the wife or daughter of the farmer. But I didn’t see a ring.

Her eyes narrow dangerously. “What do you want?” she asks point blank, and I gather my wits. No matter how fucking sexy she is or how bad I want to push her against the wall behind her and bury myself in her, I’m here for business.

“I’m looking for the owner of this place,” I say, keeping my tone cool.

She lifts her shoulders a few millimeters. “You’re looking at her,” she says, tucking her hands in her back pockets. With her weight shifted to the right, she calls attention to her hips again, and I enjoy the curve of those sexy thighs.

“I’m willing to pay four point six million to buy this property.” It’s a generous offer. The last estimate for the property was around two and a half million. But I always bid up. I make back my losses, and I’d rather buy high.

It’s personal incentive to pour my heart and soul into the place. The more I spend, the more ways I find to make that money back, and then some. I’ll bring in paychecks for the rest of my damn life, and the rest of Olivia’s, too.

To my surprise, she snorts. I study her as she looks away, her pretty eyes scanning the horizon before coming back to me.

“Wait,” she says, squaring her hips and straightening up. “You’re serious?”

I’m nothing if not serious. But how to impart that to this girl who seems like life is all just a joke? Before my eyes, she closes up. Her shoulders square and her features tighten.

“Not for sale.” She’s final, and I move to block her as she tries to step past me. She stops, glaring at me as if to silently ask how dare I stop her from leaving.

“Ten million,” I counter, deadpan.

She rolls her eyes like a child and looks away from me. I sense she’s gathering her wits, and know I’ve got this in the bag. I’ve found her breaking point. I admit, she’s breaking faster than I expected, based on her age and the precious little I know about her.

Those cat-like eyes come back to me. “I’m not selling,” she says, slowly, enunciating like she’s speaking to someone who doesn’t understand.

Again, I find myself surprised. This is the second time I’ve misjudged her, and that’s not something that happens to me. Perhaps all the issues lately are throwing me off my game. Maybe I really am that screw up my dad constantly whispers I am in the back of my mind.

“Twenty million.”

Her eyes widen, but I sense anger there, not surprise. She steps in close and I become aware of how tiny she is. I’m well over six feet tall, pushing six foot four inches, but she’s barely over five feet, I’m sure. I’d guess her to be five foot two inches, five four at most.

“I said,” she says, slowly again her eyes darting back and for the between mine, “My property is not for sale.” She lowers her voice like she’s about to impart a secret. “Now get the hell off my porch.”

With her this close, I notice what seems like pale before is worse than first impression gave. She looks ill. Her frame is tiny, she’s thin, though she’s clearly strong. But I know something isn’t quite right.

So I file the information away. I’ll use it. Later.

Still, she’s standing so close I can smell the sweet scent of her, and I want to grab her and pull her into my arms. I’ve clearly lost my mind.