Between The Sheets. P.J. Mellor
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right?” The twinkle in her eyes told Andrea her assistant also knew Connor was far from old.
“You knew he wasn’t old, didn’t you?”
Lisa took a swig of her drink and waved her hand negligently. “BFD. It’s not like you’re robbing the cradle or anything. I checked him out. You’re not even five years older.” She shrugged. “What harm did it do to let you think he was old for a while?”
“You have no idea.”
“So.” Lisa leaned across the space separating their chairs. “How was it? How was he? I saw his picture.” She fanned her face with her newly manicured hand. “Whoa, baby. That’s one showing I wouldn’t have minded.” She winked. “Not that I’d have shown him everything you did, boss.”
Ignoring the innuendo, Andrea narrowed her eyes. “Where did you see a picture of Connor O’Brian?”
Lisa shrugged. “IDK. Maybe a magazine or something.”
“A magazine or something. Right. Why do I think I was set up?” She set her empty glass on the built-in tray on the arm of the chair and faced her friend. “You were the one who went over and turned on the spa at the Ocean Drive house, weren’t you?”
“Hey, I was just trying to help. We both know property shows better when it’s staged. Since the furniture is out, I thought the best selling point would be the pool area. So…did it work? Did he make an offer?”
“No. No offer. Not on the house, anyway.” Connor’s heated words, telling her exactly what he wanted to do to her, echoed through her mind, bringing a flush to her cheeks.
“Ooh! Do tell.”
“There’s nothing to tell, Lisa.” She took a sip of her margarita. “Oh, get this! Rich just happened to come by to show the house while we were there. How’s that for a coincidence?”
“Do you think it was a legit showing? Big brother has pulled stuff like that before.”
Andrea thought for a moment. “You know, now that I think about it, the couple really wasn’t the demographic for that kind of house.” She grinned. “Now I’m really glad Connor decked him.”
“RUK? He did that?” Lisa sighed and batted her eyelashes. “Our hero.”
Trying to banish the same thought, Andrea raised her glass. “Uno mas, por favor!”
“Um, Drea? They’re Vietnamese; it’s doubtful they speak Spanish.”
“Oh. I knew that.” She ran her tongue around the edge of the empty glass, savoring every last taste. “But they still make a damn good margarita.”
An older woman walked out with a sweating pitcher of margaritas, smiling and nodding.
Andrea and Lisa smiled and nodded back, holding out their glasses for a refill.
“So now what?” Lisa asked, settling back in the chair as she punched the massage controls.
“What do you mean?”
“Drea, it’s a pretty simple question. Now that you’ve, you know, how do you plan to proceed? I mean, as the saying goes, once you’ve had sex, you can’t go back to holding hands, if you know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. Explain.” Just the thought of having sex with Connor again brought a flush to her face that had very little to do with the margaritas. But maybe Lisa had a point. “Are you saying I should dump Connor as a client? Lisa, we need this sale, remember? I’ve already invested a lot of time, put in a lot of legwork.”
Lisa snickered. “Not to mention other body parts.”
“Very funny. I’m a professional. I can control myself and continue the agent/client relationship, following through to the sales contract.”
Lisa sighed and set her glass aside. “Drea, I’m not questioning your professionalism or work ethic. We both know you excel in those areas.” She shrugged. “I guess I’m just questioning your motive. Your true motive.”
“I didn’t have a motive. It just happened.”
“BS. I’ve known you for ten years, and I have yet to see anything just happen with you. You plan every minute detail of your life. If this wasn’t planned”—she held up her hand to stop Andrea’s automatic protest—“and I believe you when you say it wasn’t, I just have to question your subliminal motive.”
“For the last time, I’m telling you, there was no motive! Subliminal or otherwise.”
“Exactly.” Lisa looked annoyingly smug. “I think there’s more to it than hormones and opportunity. I think, on some level, quite possibly a primal one, you responded to whatever it is that’s hardwired into Connor O’Brian’s DNA.”
“What! That’s ridiculous. It was happenstance. Serendipity maybe, even.” Andrea paused, unable to control the warmth flooding through her at the thought of the afternoon delight she’d indulged in. But what Lisa was suggesting was preposterous, even for Lisa. “It was…I mean, it was just…well, unless I somehow thought it might sweeten the deal.” Her mouth pulled down. “We see how well that worked.”
Of course, though difficult to admit, she’d basically prostituted herself for the sake of making a sale; it was, in all probability, the essence of it. Would she do it again? Heated memories flashed through her. In a New York minute.
“Oh, give it up, Drea!” Lisa’s voice brought her back to the conversation. “Admit it. It was to hell and gone more than casual sex.”
8
Connor winced as he placed the ice bag on his bruised knuckles.
“Are you still there?” Bill’s disembodied voice echoed in the hotel suite.
“Yeah. I just put fresh ice on my hand.”
“Dude.” Bill’s laughter was in the word. “I still can’t get my mind wrapped around you decking a guy. That’s so un-Connor.”
“Like I said, he had it coming. But the thing that gets me is it turned out he is the Realtor’s ex-husband.”
“Ouch. Bet that was awkward.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” Damn. He wasn’t the kind of guy to kiss and tell. Why couldn’t he keep his big mouth shut?
Maybe Bill wouldn’t notice.
“Oh, yeah? What’s the Realtor look like? Is she hot? Hey! You two didn’t…?”
“Don’t be a jerk. She’s my Realtor, for cripes sake. I’d have reacted like that when any woman was treated that way.” He flexed his aching hand, then had an immediate flashback to the way his hand had looked on Andrea Redd’s porcelain skin. And farther south. The image had his dick twitching, eager for more action.
No doubt about it, he needed to date more.
“Well, like I said, beware of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. But, then again, maybe if she’s hot and available, she might be persuaded to sweeten the deal a little. You know, you scratch her itch, she’ll scratch yours? You’re the efficiency expert. Think of it as multitasking!” Bill’s laugh boomed from the walls of the empty sitting area.
“You’re a real asshole, you know that?” Connor dropped the ice bag and walked to the speaker phone. “I’m starving. I need to order room service. Besides, this conversation is over.” He pressed the OFF button, then stood staring at the phone.
What he’d told Bill was true. He really was hungry. But Bill had unknowingly planted the seed.
Had Andrea had sex with him simply to make a sale? More importantly, would she have done something like that?
Not that he really cared. Andrea Redd was not his type. If he had a type, which he did