I knew I needed to walk away when she was lying through her pretty teeth to Jake, that arrogant motherfucker. The compelling pull to engage in battle with him again was intense. I showed her mercy by leaving, out of respect to her, not him. But then she went and called me a coward. She has no idea who she’s dealing with. To have Jake in the mix just makes this temptation sweeter.
But she’d get hurt.
That’s what’s stopping me.
I date older women only, those equal to the challenge and who won’t be changed by the experience. After all, I might be a devil but I’m not a monster.
Eager for a distraction I dig the vibrating phone from my pocket and drive toward the barbershop. Glancing to the screen before I answer, my eyebrows cock up.
“Cora, this is a surprise. Or should I say it isn’t.”
Her voice is friendly and professional, betraying nothing. “Tanner! I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to be there. Needed a massage. Every one of the days you’ve needed me. Couldn’t reschedule.”
I give a heavily sarcastic chuckle. “At least you’re not going to say you’re sick, like your apprentice did.”
“Oh, did Ms. Cocker say I was ill? She lied.”
My teeth grit together a beat. “What’s your angle with this? You still pissed about Venice? You knew we had an expiration date. And you acted fine with it back then!”
“I just want to help you buy your dream home! But I don’t want to see your face, so I sent someone not nearly as qualified in my stead. You understand.”
I whip the steering wheel and skid around a sharp corner. “Here I was giving you business and you still can’t forgive me?”
She laughs, “What’s to forgive?”
“Fine, I’ll find someone else who wants a fat commission since you won’t accept my apology.”
The fake smile in her voice is annoying as fuck. “Oh, is that what this was, Tanner? You thought you'd make amends by throwing work my way?” The friendly tone disappears. “Don’t insult me, you bastard. I don’t need your stupid commission. I’m the most successful realtor in Atlanta. The Mayor bought his house from me! Take your smug smirk and shove it up your perfect ass!” She hangs up.
Throwing my phone on the passenger seat I swerve into the parking lot and shake my head, muttering, “Women always wonder why I won’t get married.”
When I return to my hotel several annoyed hours later, well fed and hair freshly trimmed yet still maintaining the mid-length waves I’m known for, the front desk staff greets me, “Good evening, Mr. Hamilton.”
I nod to them on my way to the elevator, dialing Dan and telling him before he has the chance to say hello, “Find me another realtor. We aren’t dealing with Cora again.”
Which means no Emma.
Good.
I don’t want to see her again.
Dan’s silent for a second, then dryly asks, “Should I send Ms. Williamson flowers, too?”
“You’re hilarious.”
He chuckles at his own joke and tells me in a more serious tone, “I may have a solution for you. I received a call from one right after six o’clock your time. Not only did she sound capable, intelligent and professional, she claims to know everyone in Atlanta and assured me she’d find the house you were looking for.”
I stroll into my suite and notice the maid left it in immaculate condition, as usual.
“Perfect. Set it up.”
“Well, there’s one thing you might want to consider.”
Tossing my rental’s key fob onto the marble coffee table I collapse on the sofa and throw my feet up, rubbing my face. “What is it?”
“She said her name is Emma Cocker.”
I freeze then plant my feet on the floor, leaning an elbow on my knee as I frown. “What the hell?”
“I have an old Joe Cocker album in my rock playlist. He was big way back when. But other than that, not a common name. I’m guessing she’s the daughter you were warned to stay away from? Figured it couldn’t be a coincidence.”
“You figured correctly. It isn’t.” Tapping my tongue on the roof of my mouth I concentrate on this dilemma. It’s not about the properties. I could get another realtor, maybe not as capable but with less fucking drama, if I just told Dan to go ahead and find someone else.
That’s what I’m going to do.
Can’t get that kiss out of my mind.
I’m not interested in finding out why. “Set it up.”
“You sure you want to…”
Jumping up I bark, “You want me to say it again, Dan? Hire Emma Cocker!”
“Consider it done.”
Throwing the phone I pace. Good thing I don’t have booze here. This is one of those times I’d make an ass of myself, because I’m not a heavy drinker. Inspired to start now.
Emma, you little whiskey-eyed minx.
Might just have to drink you.
Only that addiction might be worse.
“Tanner, you’re being crazy. It’s just a crush,” I mutter to myself, pacing. “You want to nail her, that’s all it is, lust and nothing more.”
Atlanta’s skyline grows darker as I stand here staring at the twinkling lights as they multiply. Best view, this side of the hotel and this high up. It’s not my hometown, but it’s a pretty sight just the same. Last night I enjoyed it. Tonight I know that sweet, fresh-faced daughter of Jake Cocker is walking around with her hips swaying, her kissable lips curved in a smile directed at someone else.
Why aren’t I on my phone checking stocks? Answering the emails past Dan’s pay-grade? Searching for another company to acquire, break down and sell off?
How long have I been standing here?
Running a hand over my face I tear myself from the glittering skyscrapers and pace some more.
Jake Cocker’s daughter.
If you weren’t—like what, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen years younger? and a good person, to
