The Texas Christmas Gift. Cathy Thacker Gillen
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a while, everything begins to blur together. We can start again tomorrow if you like.” Plus, without Tiffany as a tiny chaperone and constant distraction, Eve found herself way too physically aware of her hunky client.
The only good thing was that once they had dropped his daughter off, they’d been able to swing by the office so she could pick up her car and do the driving. While Derek concentrated on perusing the neighborhoods from the passenger seat, she tried hard not to think about how intimate it felt to have him sitting so close beside her.
“What about that one?” His mind evidently where it should be, Derek pointed to a cozy English Tudor‒style cottage with a for-sale sign in front.
Grateful for the latest diversion, Eve steered her car to the curb. Up and down the street, homes were lit up with Christmas lights. However, the one in front of them was dark and neglected. Familiar with the original 1960s interior, she warned, “It’s a fixer-upper. Nowhere near move-in ready. And way below your target price.”
Derek continued to stare at the ivy-covered brick. “I’d like to see it, anyway.”
They wouldn’t need an appointment; this property was on lockbox. She could let them in.
“Okay,” Eve said, thinking that if anything were to end his desire to keep looking, this particular property would be it. She cut the ignition and led the way up to the front porch. Inside, it was worse than she remembered from the initial agents tour: chill and dank. Bad carpeting, outdated everything.
“What’s the story on the property?” Derek asked.
She continued switching on overhead lights. “The owner has gone into a nursing home. The family isn’t interested in doing anything to the house.” Hence, it had been cleared of all belongings, but not staged or in any way adequately prepared for sale. “They’re hoping it will go as a teardown.”
He shot her a questioning look.
“Which means that someone will buy it for the lot—which is a premium—demolish this property and start from scratch,” she explained.
Derek ran a hand over a wall in the study. He shook his head admiringly at the built-in bookshelves and ornate trim. “Look at this wood.”
“Paneling’s not really popular these days.”
“I like it.”
The client was always right. And it could be stripped and refinished to give it a more updated look. “It’s very masculine.”
He pivoted and regarded her speculatively, as if wondering if she was playing him.
She wasn’t.
After a moment, he seemed to accept that.
Eve sobered. “I want you to see the kitchen, though.”
They walked down the hall to the rear of the house. Eve hit another switch. Derek blinked at the orange-yellow-and-brown-plaid vinyl wallpaper. “Talk about a blast from the past,” he murmured.
The laminate counters were also bright orange, the floor a speckled linoleum. “I know,” Eve sympathized, looking past the grime-smeared windows and severely outdated appliances. “Really awful, hmm?”
He peered at a cobweb overhead. “It could use a good cleaning, that’s for certain.”
Eve moved her foot away from something sticky on the floor. “No joke.”
Derek came closer. He stood next to her, thoughtfully looking around, his steady presence and the warmth of his tall, strong body a nice counterpoint to the lingering chill inside the home. “But with all new appliances...”
Ignoring the tingling deep inside her, along with the wish the two of them had met some other time, some other way, Eve drew a deep breath and pointed out the rest of the flaws. “It’s going to need brand-new cabinets, counters, flooring and updated lighting, too.” She turned abruptly, her shoulder bumping against his bicep. “The kitchen alone would cost you at least fifty thousand. Then there’s the furnace and air conditioning, and it will also most likely need all new electrical and plumbing.”
“How much are they asking?”
Doing her best to tamp down her continuing awareness, Eve showed him the listing information left on the kitchen counter. “One point five million, but that’s too high for the condition of this house.” She led the way up to the second floor. There were four nice-sized bedrooms and two full baths, one off the hall and one off the master bedroom.
Derek continued to look around with real interest. “What do you think it should be going for?”
Eve studied the worn carpeting and cramped, outdated bathrooms, the dingy walls and lack of adequate closet space. “One point two million, max. And that’s mostly due to the location.” She turned back to Derek, in full business mode, but found herself temporarily blinded by his brilliant blue eyes. “I’d, uh, be tempted to go in at one point one million, and then let them talk you back to one point two, as the most you would pay. Although, with your time frame, wanting to be in before Christmas, I can’t recommend you take this on.”
Derek stood, legs braced apart, hands on his waist, still looking around. “Surely you know contractors who would be willing to do whatever it took, particularly if bonus pay was involved.”
He really was serious. “I do.” Despite herself, Eve began to get excited, too.
Derek walked around some more, as if dreaming about what a good infusion of cash and a little tender loving care could do for this home. He swung back toward her. “Could you get it done in a week?”
Good heavens, the man was demanding! But all of a sudden willing to be ambitious, too, Eve straightened her spine and replied, “Maybe two, if we come to terms with the sellers right away, and you’re willing to pay time and a half for the entire job.”
He shrugged off the problem. “I’m okay with that.”
They finished looking around the bedrooms and went back downstairs. “Why this house?” she asked curiously, turning off another bank of lights.
Derek shook his head. He prowled the first floor, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t know. Something about the way it looks. Feels.” He turned to her with a grin, certain now. “I want to put an offer in tonight.”
Eve studied him. She hated snap decisions when it came to something this important. “You’re sure this is what you want?” she asked finally.
Derek nodded.
The light in his eyes, his sheer enthusiasm, were irresistible. Okay, then. They went back to her office again.
Eve called the other Realtor to let her know an offer was coming in, and then wrote up the contract. She had barely faxed it over when her cell phone rang. Derek’s offer, to take the house as is, without inspection, had been accepted.
He grinned. “Looks like I just bought myself a house!” he said, wrapping Eve in a warm, Texas-style hug. It was the kind of embrace people gave each other after the winning goal in a football game. Yet the brief expression of exaltation left her tingling and on edge long after they broke apart.
Eve congratulated Derek again, more formally this time, and then bid him good-night. It was a good thing her business with Derek McCabe was almost over. She was going to have a hard enough time forgetting the powerful attraction she felt for him as it was.
* * *
EVE WAS STILL thinking about the congratulatory hug from Derek—and her unprecedented reaction to it—when she went to the hospital the next morning to help with her mother’s transfer.
As expected, even though the facility was bright and cheerful, Marjorie was less than enthusiastic about her upcoming stay in the cardiac rehab unit.
“I’d rather just go home,” she grumbled, accepting the bag of comfortable clothing Eve had brought her.
Aware