Um, do you see how hot this guy is?
Look at his freaking muscles!
That smile, I’ve never seen anything like it.
He’s so tall and big. I bet he could throw me around like a rag doll.
And I bet you’re going to do whatever it takes to find out if that’s true.
I smirked, and then the door shut, and I slipped into business mode.
“Mr. Kumaka,” I said, extending a hand for his. “I’m Belle. Welcome to Monroe Designs.”
“Lovely to meet you, Belle,” he said, taking my hand in a handshake that was equal parts firm and gentle. It made me tingle, thinking what else that hand could do. “And please, call me Mak.”
“Mak, huh? Not exactly the first name I expected to be paired with your last.”
I gestured to the handcrafted leather and teak chair in front of my desk, and let my eyes linger on his fingertips as they unfastened the button of his jacket before he sat.
“It’s short for Makoa.”
“Ah, that makes more sense.” I took a seat behind my desk, folding my hands on the sleek marble top and squeezing my arms together just enough to put my subtle cleavage in prime viewing. “So,” I said, picking up his file. “You’re new to Chicago. What brought you to the Windy City?”
“Work,” he answered casually, and the way he watched me was as if he expected me to already know the answer to the question I’d asked.
“And if I remember right from what Gemma told me about your email, you moved here from Hawai’i, right?”
His smile sparked to life again, and I found I liked it more and more each time I saw it. “San Francisco, actually. But yes, I was born and raised on Maui.” He frowned a little. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”
“Should I?”
He wet his lips, pink tongue swiping out just long enough to catch my eye. “I just never know. I’m…” He paused, like he was hesitant to tell me the truth. “I’m in real estate, and with you being in the field…”
I chuckled. “I assure you, I don’t keep up with the high-profile real estate agents in Chicago, much less the ones across the country. Now, if you were a Broadway star?” I grabbed a pen to make notes in his file, pointing it at him briefly. “Then you might have a stalker alert.”
“Theatre girl,” he said with an appreciative smile. “What’s your favorite show you’ve ever seen?”
I scoffed. “You can’t pick a favorite show. That’s like being asked to pick a favorite child.”
“Hamilton is mine. Hands down.”
I jotted down a note in his file, sitting back with the pen still in hand and what I’m sure was a shocked expression. “Is that right? You see it with the original cast?”
“The only way to see it.”
“Agreed,” I echoed, and a new appreciation for him grew in my belly along with a desire to see what was under his suit. “Gun to my head, I’d say The Color Purple.”
Makoa nodded, lips pressing together as respect twinkled in his eyes. “LaChanze is incredible.”
Surprise found me again. “Indeed, she is.”
I chewed my lip, basking in the golden wheat field rays of Makoa’s stare as I tried to figure him out. “So,” I said, tapping my pen on each fingertip. “A theatre-loving, possibly famous real estate agent from the west coast.”
That earned me a chuckle, one that I longed to hear again.
“And now you’re looking to build a home in the Midwest.”
“And somehow make it feel like home, too.”
I nodded. “I think we can make that happen.” My eyes had a mind of their own, and they trailed Makoa greedily, my knees squeezing together where I had them crossed.
When I met his gaze again, it was just as hungry as mine.
“You’re in the new condominium in Grant Park, right?”
“I am.”
“I haven’t seen it yet,” I confessed. “Not the inside, anyway. I know it’s not what we originally discussed, but… perhaps we could move this meeting there, just so I can get an idea of what we’re working with past the photos you sent in.”
“Are you sure?” Makoa frowned, and damn it if he didn’t look even hotter with those brows bent together, with that little wrinkle between them. “I don’t want to put you behind schedule.”
“It’s no problem at all,” I decided, and I stood to finalize the choice. Gemma would understand, especially if I brought her back some ramen.
Double especially if I came back with a full description of what Mr. Kumaka here looked like under the suit.
“I’d love to see the space in person, and get a little more feel for who you are,” I said.
Makoa’s lips crooked up at that, and he stood with me, fastening his jacket once more. “Lead the way.”
I smiled.
Oh, I will, Mr. Kumaka.
Hopefully all the way to your bed.
Except, there was no bed.
In fact, there was nothing in the massive condo, aside from twenty or so unpacked boxes, a single folding chair, and an air mattress right in the middle of the living room.
“Sorry, I should have warned you,” Makoa said, grabbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he looked around the empty space. “It’s kind of a mess.”
“I think you have to have more than just a folding chair in order to make a mess,” I commented, cocking a brow. “Are you waiting on the movers?”
“Nope. Afraid this is it.”
“No furniture, no art…” I dragged a finger over a few of the boxes on my way to the windows, which had a view that put mine and Gemma’s condos to shame. “But hey, I guess this isn’t so bad.”
“Not the worst view in the world,” he echoed, sliding up beside me, and I smiled when I realized he was watching me, more so than the lake. His jacket brushed my bare arm, and I chewed my lip, wondering if he’d take me up against this window, or bent over his kitchen island, or hell, I’d even let him lay
