But before I could turn and make a move, Makoa put space between us, sliding his hands into his pockets. “So, want the full tour?”
Does the tour include the master shower where we both get naked?
“Lead the way,” I said instead, using his own words.
To my dismay, Makoa was a complete gentleman as he showed me around his new home. It was a three bedroom, two-and-a-half bath, with a living room, dining area, sitting room, and one of the most beautiful modern kitchens I’d seen. It had an extra room that was more open and a bit smaller than the rest, one that could be used as an office or in-home gym, if he wanted.
As we walked, I made notes in my phone and in his file, took measurements, listened as he told me what he liked, what he didn’t like. I was thrilled to hear him mention his love of wood and warm lighting, since most of the modern condos I designed were all about bright light and minimalistic design. Makoa, on the other hand, wanted to fill his new home with art and color and warmth.
“I want it to feel like home, not just for me, but for anyone who comes through the door.” He wrinkled his nose as we rounded our way back to the kitchen. “The last thing I want is for it to feel like a model home, or like something not lived in. Does that make sense?”
I smiled. “It does. You don’t want people afraid to sit down on your plush white couch or feel like they can’t use the hand towels in the bathroom.”
Understanding bloomed in his eyes. “Exactly.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have even one piece of furniture, or art, or décor,” I mentioned, eyeing the boxes. “You were in San Francisco for a while, weren’t you?”
He cleared his throat. “I was young,” he said. “And a little more focused on… other things.”
I smirked, because he and I both knew other things was code for girls, and with a face and body like that, I didn’t blame him one bit.
I just hoped to be first in line to welcome him to Chicago.
I had to chuckle to myself at his comment at being young, like it was past tense. His file revealed his age — twenty-seven — and at thirty-two myself, I felt a little like a cougar imagining what his massive hands would feel like wrapped around my waist.
Then again, a body like his and money like the one it took to buy a condo like this told me Makoa’s age didn’t have anything to do with how grown he was.
“Have no fear, Mr. Kumaka.” I looked around the space, design ideas dancing in my head like a ballet troupe. “When I’m done with this place, it’ll be everything you wanted and more.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
His voice was a low rumble, one that had my neck heating when I turned to meet his gaze again. Now that the tour was done, the measurements taken, and the design imagined, there was nothing more to discuss — not until I could draw up some samples, at least.
I had a feeling we’d have a lot more fun without words, anyway.
It wasn’t my usual style, to sleep with a client. Then again, most of my clients were couples or families or corporate assholes who didn’t stand a chance.
Mr. Kumaka was in a completely different category.
And I filed him right under fair game.
Perks of being your own boss.
Makoa’s eyes slipped to my lips, and I sucked in a hot breath with an unwhispered yes reverberating through me. I couldn’t wait for him to touch me. I couldn’t wait for us to bust through the niceties on the pretense of being professional. I wanted his mouth on me, and I wanted to devour all of him.
“At the risk of being too forward,” he started, stepping just an inch closer to me.
I held my hands at my sides with every ounce of willpower I had left, waiting for his move.
“Could I take you out to dinner sometime?”
My next breath was a cold one, and I blinked, wondering if I heard him correctly. “Dinner?”
He nodded, and then immediately looked like he regretted the question. “I mean, of course, if that’s not appropriate… I’m sure you don’t normally date your clients.” His eyes widened. “Not that it would be a date. Well, I mean, it would be a date. At least, I’d like it to be a date. If you’d be interested.” He swallowed, and I could almost see the little voice in his head telling him to shut up. “In that.”
I couldn’t help the smile that curled on my lips, or the giggly schoolgirl feeling that flowered in my stomach watching this grown, tall, incredibly cut man stumble over his words as he asked me out. In one instant, he’d gone from this enigmatic suit-clad mystery, to a blushing high school boy.
Part of me was pissed that I’d have to wait, noting that there was no time quite like the present.
The bigger part of me was flattered, and curious, and intrigued.
“You don’t have to play this role forever.”
Gemma’s words drifted through my mind like smoke, but I blew them away with the next breath, reminding myself that as much as everything around me was changing, my view on dating never would.
But if Mr. Kumaka wanted to wine and dine me before I took his pants off?
Well… why not?
“Dinner sounds nice.”
He blew out a breath. “Yeah?”
I giggled. “Yeah. Unless you just talked yourself out of it in the time it took me to answer.”
“Contrary to my performance just now, I assure you, once I commit,” he said, inching a little closer, just enough that his cologne washed over me in a subtle rush of spice and oak. “I commit.”
That word made me want to sprint out
