Herhigh-heeled sandals click-clacked over the wide stone entry steps. She wassearching for the doorbell when a blur appeared behind the frosted glass andthe door opened, revealing Beckett Miller, fully clothed in jeans and a fadedCorona T-shirt. He stood—no, towered—in the entryway and swept his hand to theside.
“Comein, Ms. Paulson, please. Welcome to my not-much-longer home.”
Shestepped in, her head moving up, down, all around as he latched the front door. Marblefloors, hand-troweled walls, tall windows. Light, elegant, beautiful.Somebody’s got good taste.
Helooked her over and raised his eyebrows. “You grew.”
“Idid?” She glanced down at herself. “Oh! I’m in heels today. Do you want shoesoff?”
“No,you’re fine. Can I get you something to drink?”
Herthroat had gone dry. “Water would be nice.”
“Followme.” His bare feet slapped across the floor.
She didand found herself in a gourmet kitchen that made her want to search outrecipes. After accepting the water, she traipsed after him as he narrated atour through the five-bedroom, seven-bath mansion, complete with theater, bar,wine cellar, indoor pool, and full-sized gym. In the background, Hall and Oatessang about someone having what they wanted, about them being hard to handle,and a flame burning a candle, yeah, yeah.
“Speakerswired throughout the house?” she asked.
“Yep.Outside too.”
As theypassed from one room to another, their footsteps echoed off empty walls throughempty spaces. Where were the furnishings? At the master bedroom double doors,she hesitated. It seemed so … well, personal. She forced her feet across thethreshold into a simply furnished room with tasteful masculine accents in goldand indigo. The walls were empty, and shapes where pictures had been appeareddarker than the surrounding paint.
“Itlooks like you used to have artwork hanging up?”
“Notreally artwork,” he replied. He had a deep, whiskey-smooth voice. She hadn’t recalledthat about him. “Hockey collectibles. A signed Gordie Howe jersey, autographedpictures of players like Gretzky. Stuff like that.”
“Andyou took it all down?” She was in the closet now, surveying neatly hung shirts,jeans, rows of suits. A pleasant, spicy man-smell filled the space.
Hescratched his neck. “I needed to raise some cash, so I sold it.”
“Oh.Well, I have some pictures I could loan you for staging. And we’ll want to putaway the personal photos in the family room.”
“Thatwould help, huh?”
Shegave him a smile. “I think so.”
NowHall and Oates’s dreams were coming true, oh yeah, and the song bounced throughthe space. She followed Beckett as he jogged downstairs, looking everywhere butat the clean line of hair at his nape, his wide back, his narrow waist, hisperfect butt.
“Sowhat room do you spend the most time in?” she asked for no reason other than todistract herself.
Heglanced over his shoulder at her. “The gym.”
Yeah,with that physique, I should’ve guessed.
“Andhere,” he added as they walked back into the kitchen.
“Youcook?” She tried to keep the disbelief from her voice.
Hesmirked. “Yes, and before I sold it, I had a baby grand. I didn’t play it well,but I could bang out a few tunes. I’m not all thug, Ms. Paulson. My mom insistedmy brother and I cook, do our own laundry, and play a musical instrument.Anytime I balked, she lectured me about balance so I didn’t turn into a totalgoon.”
“Yourmom actually called you a goon?”
Helaughed. “No. I think she used the word ‘Neanderthal’ more than once, though.”
“Shesounds lovely.”
“Shewas, yes. Very lovely.”
Paige’spreconceived notions about Beckett Miller were being dismantled. There wasstill that whole sex machine thing, though.
“So,”he said with a hand slap on the granite slab counter, “How much are you goingto cost me?”
Thereit is. So he’s not dismantling all my assumptions.
“Thatsounded really bad, didn’t it?” He grinned.
Ishe blushing?
“Let merephrase that. What are you going to charge me?”
HaveI decided to take him on? For twelve percent, heck yes!
“Thestandard is anywhere between five and seven percent, which is typically sharedwith the buyer’s agent,” her evil twin said.
Hebrought a water bottle to his lips and tilted his head back. His Adam’s appletwitched as he swallowed. Even his neck was muscular and beautiful, likesomething from an ancient sculpture of the perfect man. Adonis. Paige threwback her own water.
He sethis bottle down. “Okay. Then how about I pay you eight percent?”
Sheglanced around at the blank walls. “That’s too high. How about six?” Her eviltwin again. She’d have to instruct herself that one negotiated to one’sbenefit, not the other way around.
Hehalf-frowned, half-smiled. “I don’t want to screw you, Ms. Paulson.”
She openedher mouth and closed it again. The Eagles were singing “Tequila Sunrise” now.
Helaughed. “Oh sh—I mean, I’m really sorry. Everything seems to be coming out ofmy mouth the wrong way again. What I meant was—”
“Youwant to be sure I’m well-compensated.”
Hepointed at her. “Yes! Thank you for articulating what I’m incapable of at themoment!” In a rich baritone, he picked up the Eagles’ thread of wondering whythe right words never came.
Paigewarbled along before she could stop herself, making them both laugh.
“Mr.Miller, I will take your listing for six percent—and two tickets to a hockeygame.”
“Done.You do realize we’ve crossed that most intimate of lines, right?”
Oh,here we go.
“Imean, singing together and all,” he said. “We have to get back to a first-namebasis. You used to call me Beckett—at least to my face, though you wereperfectly entitled to call me a boatload of other names, just as you’reentitled now. I’d still like to call you Andie.”
Shescrunched her brows. “Why Andie?”
He puthis hands on top of his head and shrugged. The Corona T-shirt inched up,flashing a stripe of skin covering hard muscle. Paige refrained from fanningherself with her hand and tore her ogling gaze from his abs.
“Idon’t know. It suits you. But I can always call you Paigey.” He winked ababy blue.
“Iprefer Andie.”
He lefthis front door open and walked her to her truck, singing softly, absently,along with the song drifting from the speakers. It was about hungry eyes. Morelike swimming-pool-blue eyes. He opened her door and closed it after shegot settled. As she pulled away, a riot of thoughts swarming her brain, hewaved to her in her rearview.
Theproperty wasn’t in her usual wheelhouse, but
