TANNER

The white Lexus is already here when I park. Emma Cocker is watching me from the sidewalk in dusty-blue heels and a matching wrap dress that hugs her body with professional elegance. She smiles like a realtor as I shut the door.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Hamilton,” she cooly calls over.

Guarded, I button my suit jacket. “Ms. Cocker. This is a surprise.”

Her smile falters. “Your assistant didn’t tell you I’d be showing you this house?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“Oh,” she quietly says, then plasters the smile back on. “I guess it slipped his mind. I can assure you I know everything there is to know about this property.”

“Prove it.”

She stares at me a beat. Her lips part to launch into another speech.

Mine twitch. “I’m messing with you, Ms. Cocker. He did tell me. I have no doubt you could regale me with facts I will find too boring to remember. I’m looking for something in particular, so how about we just look at the house. You can point things out that you think I need to know, and I’ll ask questions when I have them.”

I enjoy listening to her talk a little too much. Have to nip that in the bud before this goes in a direction I can’t allow.

Those long eyelashes flutter and her neck lengthens as she turns to lead the way. “If that’s what you’d prefer,” she politely announces, her voice showing no sign of remembering our kiss or my warning. Or her father’s, for that matter. The fact that she hasn’t mentioned it tells me it’s on her mind more than she would like it to be.

She’s not alone.

I woke up from a wet dream last night for the first time since I was a teen. While most men over forty would find that exciting, I don’t. I almost didn’t show up today but then found myself driving faster. Had to stop at a coffee shop lest I arrived too early. Most impatient half-hour of my life.

We are both stiff as we make our way up the path. Her perfume lifts on the breeze and floats right into my nose. Closing my eyes I inhale deeply, then curse silently to myself and lie aloud to her, “I only have time for one showing today.”

Her shoulders tighten more, but she nods. “That’s fine. I’m sure you’re a busy man.”

I have nothing on the agenda except keeping this brief so I can maintain control of my cock. “There’s a meeting right after this, and another after that.”

“We’ll be swift,” she smiles, but behind her eyes I can see she’s disappointed. Oh, Little Emma, why are you playing with fire? And why do I hope you fan it?

As we walk into a furnished foyer I listen to her tell me about the current family having moved to the Midwest. I study her face as she explains, “They’ll pack up as soon as the sale goes through but it’s been on the market for about six months. I’m sure you can imagine not many people are in need of a house with fourteen bedrooms. This way.”

I follow her tour for the next half hour, a constant struggle to keep my mind on what she’s saying. It’s distracting that she loves her job as much as this. To me that always makes a person far more attractive, when they’re living their dream. The dark cloud of denial isn’t on them. Their eyes shine as they are meant to.

“Not many bathrooms here,” I notice aloud.

She laces her fingers together. “True. There are only four in addition to the master bath, plus a half one beside the kitchen, which I’ll take you to next. Is that a problem?”

Biting my lips I think on it. “It’s something to note.”

“Of course,” she smiles.

Our comfortable gazes hold, and the comfort vanishes. Suddenly her chest lifts with a forced breath and she turns on her heel like she was about to throw herself into my arms and had to stop herself.

I pace up here, alone, to get a hold of myself, because normally when I want to kiss someone I fucking do it. This is madness.

Emma’s waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, jaw tight and smile fake. “Everything okay?”

She knows it’s a loaded question, but I’ll play along. “Perfectly. Let’s see this kitchen I’ve heard so much about.”

She eyes me, not sure if I’m making fun of her. Deciding against calling me out on it, she announces, “The refrigerator is industrial sized, but the stove needs to be replaced, in my opinion. It hasn’t been changed in decades and doesn’t match the décor. So if you decide you love this property I know we could talk them down in price for that, and for the basement. It doubles as a game room but isn’t up to code.”

“Really?” I mutter, mesmerized by her ass ticking from side to side. “We’ll have to do something about that.”

Emma glances back and catches me. Her cheeks fill with color, driving me crazy. She motions to the stove, stuttering slightly. “Here…here it is.”

“This is larger than the last kitchen,” I notice.

“Yes.” She touches a countertop and quietly smiles, “Not that size matters.”

I cut a glance to her. “Just so we’re clear, it’s large.”

“The kitchen?”

“No, not the kitchen.” I slip my hands into my pockets to hide my growing tent.

Emma glances down but I can tell she tried not to. Our eyes lock. Her eyelids get heavier. It seems she’s about to take a step closer, but thinks better of it.

She walks into a hall toward staff bedrooms, and I follow. “This home is more modern so that might meet your needs.”

The first is a bedroom that is ill-furnished compared to the rest of the mansion. There’s nothing interesting to point out, so she waits for me to observe the space and we head to the next. In there, too, is an unimpressive set-up. Barely any light due to the lack of windows, same as the last. Emma waits for me to look around and we head to the final room.

There I muse, “Apparently they don’t think much of the help.”

Emma’s chest deflates in agreement but she’s not allowed to say anything bad about them, per professional rules of etiquette. I however fall under no such restrictions.

So I roll my eyes and mutter, “Assholes. They deserve to have this sit on the market. Make them squirm while they lose money. There isn’t even a tub in the bathroom their staff has to share with the guests. Where do they keep their toiletries, in humiliating travel bags, brought with them every morning and night? That would be the first thing I would change, not the stove.”

Emma watches me leave, a glint of respect lighting her eyes. “I’ll show you the game room, Mr. Hamilton. There’s also a lovely wine cellar.”

I pause to let her go ahead of me. “Lead the way.”