So I get out of my truck and walk the two blocks over to their snooty little office. I didn’t dress for the part like Seth did; I’m in a T-shirt and jeans, and wearing my favorite hat. Least I’m not covered in West Texas dust this time. I go in the office and the receptionist’s look tightens as she claps eyes on me.

“I’m here to see Ivy Smithfield,” I drawl.

“Did you have an appointment?”

“Yup,” I lie. It’s kinda an appointment. She promised to call me back and never did. In my mind, that counts.

The receptionist nods stiffly and picks up her phone. “Shall I let her know who’s waiting?”

I shake my head slowly. “Naw. Just get her up here.”

Her eyes narrow at me. “Ms. Smithfield? You have a client waiting in the lobby.” She sets the phone down and her mouth purses as she looks at me. I bet if this place had security she’d have called it on me already. She’s got that look about her. Like a guy ain’t allowed to be low class in her lobby. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so damn ridiculous.

But then Ivy walks in, a cool drink of water. She’s so fucking gorgeous she takes my breath away. Her hair is pulled up in a high bun, and she’s wearing a beige suit jacket with a dark red skirt and tall fuck-me shoes. She looks so damn sexy I want to throw her over my shoulder and run off with her. Instead, I just smile broadly like this was all part of my grand plan.

She looks surprised to see me, and then guilty. But she recovers quickly, moving forward and extending her hand toward me. “Mr. Price. It’s nice to see you.”

“Is it?” I ask, and instead of shaking her hand, I raise it to my mouth to kiss her knuckles.

Her face flushes bright with color, almost as red as her skirt. I half expect her to pull away but she lets me kiss her hand, and I make sure to brush my thumb over that soft skin afterward. “I wasn’t expecting any clients today.”

“Then you got lucky I showed up, didn’t you?”

“Would you like to sit down in one of the conference rooms and talk?” She’s all business as she pulls her hand from my grip, her smile as charming as ever.

“Nah. I just want to know why you won’t return my phone calls.”

“Work.” She gestures at the office. “It’s been insanely busy this week.”

I look around at the office. Looks rather empty to me. In fact, Ivy and me are the only ones in the lobby. I have a sneaking suspicion that Seth’s probably the only client here. “Sure looks busy.”

She blushes and bites her lip, glancing around.

Time to stop beating around the bush. I give her my most disarming grin. “Is it me? Did I come on too strong?”

She arches a perfect eyebrow. “Do you know how to come on as anything other than strong?”

I laugh, because that’s a fair point. I love this woman’s brain. “Was kinda hopin’ you’d be dazzled by my determination and look past the fact that you’re too good for me.”

Her teasing look falters, and for a moment her expression is soft and wistful. Shit, she’s pretty. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“The truth?”

“No, that you’re not good enough.” She leans in, a little smile on her face. Her voice is low as if she’s whispering to me. “I don’t know if anyone has pointed this out to you, Mr. Price, but you’re a billionaire.”

“No shit?” I drawl. I lean in, too. “And I told you to call me Boone.”

Her cheeks are still bright with that pretty flush of hers that happens when I flirt, and she’s not leaning away. I realize, seeing her, that she likes me. She likes me and maybe she doesn’t want to because of her job. That’s fair. That also means I have an opening, though, and I’m ruthless enough to take it.

“You know I haven’t changed my mind about that house,” I tell her. “Or the golf course.”

Ivy looks torn. She crosses her arms over her chest and glances around, then moves in closer to me again. “Boone, I don’t know that I’m the right realtor for you. It’s just . . . complicated.”

“Well, I think you’re the right one for me. I don’t want anyone else. I told you that.” I want to put my arms around her waist and pull her slim body against me. She’s a little pale today, but so beautiful and elegant it makes me ache. I haven’t ever wanted anything as badly as I want this woman, and I feel like she’s dancing just out of reach. I need to figure her out. Figure out the right words that will unlock her reservations and make her fall into my arms. Maybe I’m just not persuading her enough yet. So I lean in close again. “You want me to double your commission? I’m more than willing to do so.”

Her eyes go wide. “That’s not necessary—” She pauses as another man comes sauntering into the lobby. “Hello, Jack.” Her voice grows cool and her smile a little more stiff. Her eyes meet mine before she gestures at the man in the suit approaching us. “Boone, this is Jack Jackson. He’s one of the head realtors of Three Jacks.”

I nod at him, narrowing my eyes. This her boyfriend or something? She said she didn’t have anyone, but this guy’s showing a lot of interest in the fact that I’m standing in the lobby with her.

“Something I can help you with?” Jack Jackson says, offering me his hand. I know this guy’s type immediately. He’s a slick motherfucker, the smile on his face oily and sly.

“No,” I growl. I want to step between him and Ivy, who has a distressed look on her face. Her entire body language has changed, too. She was leaning in to me before, and now she’s pole-straight and nervous. This guy bothers her, and it makes me feel protective.

Jack looks surprised at my vehement reaction. “Are you a client of ours, Mr. . . . ?” He trails off, expecting me to answer.

To my surprise, Ivy steps in before I can. She moves in front of me and puts an arm around my waist. Her smile is brilliant as she beams at Jack. “Actually, this is my boyfriend, Boone.”

Boyfriend? Hot damn. My hand slides around her waist and again, I get that possessive, caveman feel roaring through my skull as I touch her. This woman belongs in my arms. It’s where she’s meant to be.

She pats my chest with her other hand and snuggles against me. “He’s taking me out to lunch.”

Jack just gives us a slow nod. “Nice to meet you, Boone.” He focuses on Ivy again. “Let me know if any walk-ins show up and they’re at my particular . . . level.”

“Of course.” Her smile doesn’t waver, but I can feel her tense against me.

He turns away and then pauses. “Oh, and, Ivy, if I were you, I’d probably see more sales if I spent less time going to lunch with friends.” He gives her a thin smile, nods at me, and then walks away again.

Ivy remains in my arms for a long moment, as if expecting that dickbag to turn around.

Since she’s there, I lean in, practically nuzzling that tempting little ear of hers. “Would you be offended if I punched him in the throat?”

I can feel her shiver, and it sends a ripple of arousal right through me. “I wish someone would,” she murmurs, and slowly steps out of my arms.

“You wanna tell me what that’s about?”

“I imagine he’s just trying to hit his quota for the month. It’s been a slow summer for him and he’s not happy.”

“Fill his quota . . . or take yours?” I guess. Maybe that’s why she plastered herself to me. She hasn’t given up on my commission.

She nods again, a pained expression on her face.

I’m filled with protective outrage. Are these assholes bullying my woman? And she’s too classy to set them in their proper place, I imagine. She’s a fucking lady and they’re taking advantage of that. “Remember how I told you I wanted to buy a golf course?”

“Yes?”

“I’m adding to that list. I think I want a real estate office, too.”

She gives me a puzzled look. “You do?”

“Want me to tell you about it over the lunch you said we were about to go have?”

She bites her lip and looks back at Jack, who’s walking away a lot slower than most people. “I shouldn’t,” she whispers. “I’ll get in trouble with the boss. But I’ll text you later tonight and we’ll talk, all right?”

“Really? ’Cause you haven’t been a big fan of answering my texts lately.”

“I know,” she says quickly, and grabs my hands, squeezing them. That impulsive little move warms my heart—and sends a bolt of lust right through my groin. “But please, I will this time, okay? You can come up here and harass me in the morning if I don’t.”

“Fair enough.”

“And don’t talk to any other realtors, all right?” She looks at me with those big, pleading eyes.

I move forward, since Jack’s still watching us from afar, and I put a finger under Ivy’s chin. “Darlin’, you didn’t believe me when I said you were the only thing I wanted? You should.”

Ivy

In a way, it’s a good thing that Jack Jack starts throwing his weight around and scaring Boone off. It gives me time to go back to my desk and recuperate. I’m still feeling a little faint from this morning’s plasma donation—my second in a week—and I eat cookies and sip orange juice until I feel more like myself. Farah’s been flirting with the client sitting across from her for well over an hour, and never mind that he’s half her age. She’s laying it on thick. She must smell a commission in sight.

I smell a commission in sight, too, but I’m texting mine after work tonight.

I nibble on a peanut butter sandwich cookie and pull up my email on my laptop, though I’m not really paying attention to my inbox. I’m still thinking about Boone.

When I saw Jack stroll into the lobby, that hungry look on his face, I knew what he wanted—Boone. More specifically, Boone’s commission. The moment he’d have smelled that Boone was a billionaire, he’d have been on him and I’d have been shuttled into the background. Jack would have come up with some reason as to why I couldn’t possibly help Boone out and then I’d be pushed out of the picture. Maybe I’d have to do inventory on coffee filters in the break room. Maybe I’d have to cold-call old clients and ask them for leads. There’s a million types of busywork and Jack Jack knows plenty of them to send in my direction.