Between The Sheets. P.J. Mellor
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O’Brian. Would that, by chance, be your father?” Please, Lord, don’t let it be his grandfather. Old, she could take. Old, she could coerce into buying. Doddering made her feel, well, too guilty.
Surfer Dude leaned one T-shirt-clad shoulder against the doorjamb, crossing his arms over his impressive chest. “Actually, my father is Connor O’Brian, but—”
“Excellent.” Andrea swept past him and set her briefcase on the tiled foyer floor beside a cherry hall table, determined to regain her self-control. She was, after all, a professional. “Please tell him Andrea Redd, from Redd Hot Properties, is here for our appointment.”
“But”—he shrugged and closed the door, then leaned against it, his gaze never leaving hers—” my father is in Miami.”
Shit. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.” In heels, she looked directly into his eyes, which was one of the reasons she preferred stilettos: They gave her power. “Connor O’Brian just arrived on the island. He called my office to set up this appointment. Was there some kind of emergency or…?”
A slow shake of his head had her struggling to concentrate on his words instead of admiring his assets.
“My name is Connor O’Brian, too. I’m the one who made the appointment.” He opened the door, inclining his head toward the hall. “I’m ready to go check out beach houses. How about you?” The grin he flashed was unrepentant.
No doubt about it, she needed damage control. Play nice, her mind screamed while her mouth blurted out, “Let’s go, Junior.”
“I thought you were going to show me beachfront property,” Connor complained when Andrea Redd pulled her Mercedes 600SL to the curb after an uncomfortably silent ten-minute drive.
“This house has beach access.” She opened her door and stepped out.
“It looks like it needs painting.” He shut his door and glared at the forlorn-looking structure.
“It has that weathered look,” she countered, striding toward the front door.
He shook his head to clear it of the lascivious thoughts the sway of her red-clad hips instilled and caught up to her as she inserted her card key into the lockbox on the “weathered” double entry doors. “I may not be from around here, but that,” he said, pointing to the water in the distance, “doesn’t look like the Gulf of Mexico.”
She sighed and turned to pin him with her cool, crystal-blue gaze. “It’s a lake, but it has all the amenities of Gulf property. It’s really quite a deal.”
“What makes you think I’m looking for a deal?” Did the snooty brunette actually think he couldn’t afford Gulf property?
“Nothing, Junior, although I have not seen the promised preapproval letter. I just thought it was a good deal and possibly might work for you.” A fine brow arched. “Perhaps if you gave me an idea of your price range, I could better narrow it down.”
Connor sighed and ran a hand through his hair, wishing he’d gotten another haircut before leaving Houston. He glanced down at his more-than-casual attire and again cursed Bill for not only convincing him to take the trip but also for replacing his normal wardrobe. No wonder Andrea Redd didn’t take him seriously. As soon as they were finished, he’d go buy some decent clothes. Wait. His wardrobe shouldn’t make a difference. Maybe Miss High and Mighty needed to learn clothes do not make the man. Besides, she worked for him, regardless of what he wore.
“Stop calling me Junior,” he finally said, “please.”
“I thought you said you and your father had the same name.”
“We do. But no one ever calls me Junior. Ever.” He edged closer to her, unable to stop the urge to inhale the flowery scent of her perfume. Okay, maybe he also got a perverse sense of pleasure in knowing his nearness disturbed her. He could see it in the way her clear blue eyes widened a fraction and the fact she took a tiny step back.
What had gotten into him? After Whitley’s defection, he’d sworn off powerful, high-maintenance women. Hell, in fact, he’d sworn off all women. At least for a while.
But there was something…different about Andrea Redd.
And he intended to find out what.
Beneath his baggy cargo shorts, his cock stirred in an effort to tell him exactly what it thought about Ms. Redd.
He watched in fascination as her tongue darted out to lick her glossy lips, surprised to realize he wanted to feel that tongue, those lips, on his body.
It was his vacation, after all, pitiful as it was. And it was the first one in more years than he wanted to count. Why not?
Andrea forced her feet to stop retreating, locking her knees to keep them from trembling. Her heart raced, her breath coming in shallow huffs. Every nerve ending stood at attention. The whole situation was ridiculous. The man was young enough to be…well, at least her younger brother. So what if he oozed sex appeal? She was immune, thanks to her snake-in-the-grass ex-husband and waning hormones.
He looked down at her from his less-than-considerable height advantage, thanks to her heels. She fought the urge to clutch her lapels together like some shy virgin, irritated he had the ability to make her nipples tingle with just a casual glance.
She took a quick peek downward and bit back a smile. Obviously Junior liked what he saw.
Redd Hot Properties could use a sale. Unloading the heretofore unsalable unit she’d just unlocked would just be icing on the cake.
And, really, was a little harmless flirtation, both giving and receiving, going to kill her?
Thinking of possibly unloading the property made her wet. Oh, yes, she could definitely see the possibilities in playing nice. Mutual satisfaction could perform miracles.
Decision made, she released her lapels and took a deep breath, inwardly chuckling when Junior’s eyes widened at her expanded cleavage.
She leaned in so he could get a better view, casually dragging the tip of her finger along the upper swell of her breast. “Since we’re already here, why don’t I just show you around? Who knows?” She turned, causing the tips of her nipples to graze his firm chest. A surprising streak of fiery awareness shot through her and renewed the dampness between her legs. What was wrong with her? “Maybe you’ll see something you like,” she finished in a breathy voice. No doubt about it, she’d already found something she liked, if her body’s reaction to him was any indication. Hell, who was she kidding? If it would unload the property, she wouldn’t be totally adverse to shoving her now-aching breast into his mouth.
She was reasonably sure he’d be receptive.
She ignored the light brush of his hand on her ass as they walked into the entry. After all, they were two consenting adults.
Well, she was, anyway.
3
Connor could barely walk with the monster hard-on. He half expected her to slap him when he brushed his hand across her firm backside.
She didn’t.
Instead, she looked up at him with those blue, blue eyes as though daring—or wanting—him to do it again.
She stopped just inside the door. His eyes took a second to adjust to the dimness of the interior after the bright sunshine. At least, that was his excuse when he ran into her back.
Automatically reaching out to steady her, his hands gripped the soft curves that filled her suit jacket so enticingly.
Before he could utter the apology on his lips, she murmured, “Easy, Junior.”
Did she just wiggle her bottom against his erection? Or was that just a figment of his sex-starved imagination?
Without a backward glance, she sauntered into the vaulted living room while he stood with his mouth hanging