another one from his drywall guy. The absolute last thing he should be doing was playing guide to these recreational real estate tourists. If he was smart he would leave them to Serena and get back to business as fast as he could. And yet he found himself saying, 'I’d be glad to give you and your mom the grand tour.”
Lacey tried to recover from her shock quickly, but was fairly sure her mouth dropped for a moment. Having revealed that she wasn’t a serious buyer for this property, she had expected him to make his excuses and take off as soon as possible. Builders, in her experience, left the tours to the real estate agents and avoided dealing with the curious public. As much as she wanted to spend more time with him, it just wasn’t in her nature to pretend she might make an offer.
“That would be great. If you’re sure you have the time. Wouldn’t it, mom?” Lacey said, finally noticing that her mother and Serena had been watching this exchange with some amusement. Her mom was smiling widely, and she knew that look. Diana was playing matchmaker, and that never boded well for her.
“By all means,” Diana said, following them through the archway to the formal dining room. ’Let’s take the special builder’s tour.”
“He’s flirting with you,” Diana Ferguson whispered, pulling her daughter into the Show Home’s enormous master walk-in closet for some privacy. Her china blue eyes were wide with excitement and she clutched her daughter’s arm tightly to get her attention.
“You’re delusional,” Lacey responded, shaking her head in mild exasperation. Diana always thought men were interested in her daughter, and she was always wrong. They weren’t. Ever. But her mom’s conviction always made her smile. The previous month Diana had been certain that a real estate agent from a previous Open House had asked for Lacey’s number because he wanted a date. The fact that he was flamboyantly gay did not deter Mrs. Ferguson in the least.
Lacey was single for a very simple reason. At 32, the pretty brunette rarely encountered single, straight, sane men. Somewhere along the line, her life had become practically testosterone free. Her father, brother, and male cousins all lived in other parts of the country. Her coworkers were all women. Usually this was okay, but every 28 days or so, things could get a little spicy. Most of her clients at The Health Unit were of the ancient variety, so unless she developed a taste for saggy bottoms and liver spots, she was unlikely to meet anyone there. She went to a women’s gym, the people in her running club were all female or married, and even the college courses she’d taken to upgrade her nursing degree a few years ago had been dominated by women.
Men were like some kind of exotic species to her. Seen in the distance, but she rarely had the opportunity to interact with them on any kind of personal level. As a result, she had lost the knack for flirtation. When she did encounter an eligible guy she usually developed a case of verbal diarrhea or worse, clammed up and appeared downright aloof.
On some level she knew she had engineered her life this way. Her last relationship, with Barry, the accountant, had ended badly more than three years ago. She hadn’t caught him cheating or discovered he was a cross-dresser or anything so dramatic. He didn’t kick puppies, or belch excessively or belittle her in front of his friends. He was a nice guy. A nice guy who happened to find the prospect of spending anymore time with her completely uninspiring. He had simply said that life was short and he didn’t want to spend it being bored, with her. He needed some excitement, something to look forward to, and all he could see with her was routine sex and a lifetime of wondering if he was wasting his life.
Harsh, yes, but at least she had found out he before they had moved in together, or gotten engaged. That would have been really messy. After the initial hurt wore off, Lacey realized that he had actually done her a favor. She hadn’t exactly been head over heals with old Barry, but he had seemed like a good, solid, marriage prospect. At the time she'd thought perhaps passion was not a very practical consideration when it came to choosing a life partner. Compatibility, reliability and respect had seemed like an excellent basis to a committed, monogamous, long-term relationship. But it wasn’t, at least for Barry. And if she was really honest with herself, she wanted more too.
This disaster, in addition to being a first-hand witness to her parent’s horrific divorce eight years ago had convinced her that life without romance was so much cleaner and less complicated than constantly compromising with another person. Relationships were just messy and potentially painful. Bottom line was she hadn’t been willing to take a chance and trust another person after Barry had dropped the Boring Bomb. If it meant being a little lonely, then that was the price she was willing to pay to avoid having her heart stomped into little tiny pieces.
Recently, however, she’d started regretting her decision to give up on romance. When she hung out with her happily married friends, or watched a chick-flick where everyone lives Happily Ever After, she suspected she was missing out on something important. Something wonderful. When her promotion at work finally came through, she decided that it was time to put her personal life in order, too. She would try to make an effort to be open to meeting someone and to keep her mistrust at bay.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t met anyone worth the risk to her heart since making that decision. And it certainly didn’t help that she was addicted to romance novels. The studs in those books certainly made her hyperaware of what she was missing, especially on evenings when the thought of climbing into her bed alone seemed like the most depressing thought in the world.
She hated herself for needing anyone, but she wanted someone there to touch, someone to hold her and make her feel beautiful. And there never was anyone. Just her dog, Charlie. And he was cute as hell, but not exactly what she was looking for in a bed partner. He snored, for one thing, and had a tendency to chase squirrels in his sleep.
She wanted her dream guy. No compromises. If she was going to make an effort then she wanted someone incredible. Someone hot, but unaware of it; employed, but not a workaholic; kind, but not a doormat. In short she wanted the hero from one of her sexy novels, in the flesh. Damn those books. They made it just about impossible for average guys to measure up to her expectations. Until they’d come to this Open House anyway.
“I’m serious this time. Why would the builder be spending so much time with us if he’s not interested in you? That’s the real estate agent’s job. Not his.” Diana persisted, closing the closet door, so the stud-muffin in question wouldn’t overhear their conversation. He’d paused in the hallway outside the master bedroom to answer his cell phone.
For just a second, Lacey thought her mother might have a point. Why was he with them exactly? He’d spent the last half hour showing them all the impressive features of the Show Home and had only left them alone long enough to answer his cell phone. Could he actually be interested in her? A guy who practically oozed sex appeal like that? No way! He’s probably just a really friendly guy, she thought to herself.
“Maybe he’s trying to help sell this house? That is his goal, right? He’s just being very thorough,” Lacey said absently, admiring the customized closet’s many drawers and shoe shelves. There was even a small round window on the back wall.
She walked over, looked outside, and was delighted to see rose bushes, grass, and the Rocky Mountains in the distance. She sighed. Even the closet window has a view, she thought. Unlike her current apartment which featured a grim view of either a cinder block wall from the bedroom window or a front row seat to her creepy exhibitionist neighbor's bedroom from the patio. She shivered at the thought of his hairy, portly body squeezed into a schlong thong. Yuck! She’s kept her blinds closed since that unpleasant sight had assaulted her eyes a few months ago.
“He’s selling something, alright. But it’s not this house. You already told him it’s too big for you. Face it. He thinks you’re cute.” Diana gave her daughter a sly wink and pushed her toward the closet door. Lacey opened it to find Mr. Sexy Builder Guy standing on the other side, looking a little puzzled as to why they were checking out the closet with the door closed.
“We were just curious to see if the door closed all the way,” she said, giving him an inane smile. “It looked a little warped or something.”
“Warped? Seriously?” He asked, seeming downright offended that a door in one of his houses would dare to be sub-par. He maneuvered around her, brushing his large warm body against her in the process, and opened and closed the doors several times, examining it for flaws. “Looks okay to me. In fact, it looks pretty much perfect.” But he wasn’t looking at the door, he was staring intently at her with laughing green eyes.
Their gazes locked and Lacey felt the strangest sense of connection with him. Looking into his eyes seemed
