Читать книгу Unconditionally Mine - Nadine Gonzalez - Страница 11

Chapter 3

Sofia wasn’t clear when chatting had crossed into flirting, or even how he’d roped her in, but here she was, tied up in knots. The man was magnetic—clever, witty and fun. When the time had come to leave him, she couldn’t pull herself away. Then the case for which she’d been picked was dismissed. She had the choice of leaving early (forfeiting her fifteen bucks) or returning to the jury pool. Her brain opted to leave; the rest of her wanted to rush back into the auditorium to be with him. Although she’d managed to follow the other elated jurors out the door, she couldn’t resist leaving something behind. He must think her nuts, going on about her engagement one minute and leaving him a note the next.

She was nuts.

Driving in circles, finding her way out of the parking lot, she wondered what had gotten into her. The first time they’d met, she was able to dismiss him pretty fast. But things had been different then. She had really been engaged, and now she was only pretending to be. Not pretending, she reasoned. She and Franco had privately ended their engagement. They simply hadn’t gone public with that information yet.

Who was she kidding? Nothing about their situation was simple.

She drummed the steering wheel. What to do now? It was only two thirty. She had a meeting at five. Leila Amis, a Realtor and friend, had recruited her to throw an open house for a new listing in Miami Beach. Part of her business had always focused on providing local Realtors with the services they needed. With the influx of foreign investors, Miami’s luxury real-estate market was thriving. Sofia was being offered more and more work. She could head back to her office to start on a concept or...

Was Jonathan Gunther built like a boxer under that suit? Looked like it.

For the love of God, Sofia!

In need of a lifeline, she called Leila, who barely gave her a chance to say hi. “Hey! I know we agreed to meet at the house.” Her voice poured through the car speakers. “Any chance you can swing by the agency later to pick me up? My car is in the shop. It broke down on I-95 this morning. They towed it away. It was a mess.”

Sofia looked up and around to better situate herself. She was at the junction of I-95, and all she’d have to do was head south to Brickell. “Any chance we can do this now? I’ve got time to kill.”

“In that case,” Leila said, “I’m going to put you to work.”

* * *

Brickell was two things: a trendy neighborhood lined with luxury condo buildings and the center of Miami’s financial district, if one in fact existed. Joggers, dog walkers and professionals in business suits mingled on the sidewalks. The afternoon sunlight set the buildings’ mirrored surfaces on fire.

Leila and her boyfriend, Nick, ran a boutique real-estate agency from one of the newer buildings. Sofia pulled up and spotted Leila out front chatting with the doorman. In a former life, Leila used to be a pageant queen and it showed in the way she walked. Sofia watched as she approached and elegantly lowered herself into the passenger seat. She wore a fitted cream jumpsuit that flattered her deep brown complexion.

“First stop,” she said, “the downtown Hyatt. I have to meet with a client—five minutes, tops. Then we’ll head out to South Beach—can’t wait for you to see the listing. The photos I sent you don’t do it justice. Then maybe we could stop somewhere for drinks? Catch up a little.”

Sofia eased back into the slow-moving traffic. “Or we could shop for a new car. Don’t you think it’s time for an upgrade?”

Leila had been driving the same Mazda Miata for as long as Sofia had known her. She’d won it at a pageant, but her sentimental attachment to the thing bordered on ridiculous.

Leila quickly switched topics. “Took a day off?”

“Nope. Jury duty.”

Leila made a face. “How did that go?”

Sofia answered without thinking. “I had a good time.”

“At jury duty?”

Sofia scrambled to correct herself. “I had...a good book.”

Leila was quiet for a while, messaging clients. They arrived at the Hyatt and Sofia waited in the car, listening to the radio, for at least fifteen minutes. Leila wrapped up her meeting and they headed out to Miami Beach.

On the causeway, Sofia lowered the convertible top. The bay stretched out on either side of the strip. As the breeze tossed her hair, she felt a tinge of excitement. She was eager to visit this house. She’d thought the photos were spectacular and had instantly fallen for the house’s modern design and open layout. But Leila was right: there was nothing like touring a house to get a feel for it. Her father owned a construction company and all her life she’d toured homes at various stages of development. Even the most cookie-cutter of homes had a personality. Which reminded her of something. Nick and Leila had been renovating a house in Bayshore for the better part of a year. Some days it was all Leila could talk about.

“How’s progress on Barbie’s dream house?” Sofia asked, knowing she’d regret it.

“There’ve been some delays getting permits for the garage,” Leila replied. “It’s pissing Nick off. But did I tell you about the custom furniture?”

“Many times.”

Leila squealed. “I get a sneak peek of the living room furniture tomorrow.”

“Good luck sleeping tonight!” Sofia teased.

“I’ve got a question for you, smart-ass,” Leila said. “When’s the wedding? Forget car shopping. Why aren’t we out shopping for a gown right now?”

“Did my mom put you up to this?” Sofia asked.

“You put me up to this. What kind of maid of honor would I be if I didn’t ask?”

Sofia’s cousin, Mercedes, was her official maid of honor; Sofia’s mother had insisted on it. Leila had agreed to sign on as the de facto maid of honor. But none of that mattered anyway, since there’d be no wedding. If Leila wanted to plan a wedding so badly, maybe she should drop Nick a hint.

“I thought you wanted a summer wedding,” Leila persisted. “Summer is around the corner.”

“A summer wedding was a dumb idea,” Sofia said. “I’d melt in the heat.”

“What do you think about Christmas?” Leila asked.

“I’m not thinking, Leila,” Sofia said. “I’m focusing on my parents’ anniversary party.”

That was her go-to excuse, but a lame one. Everyone who knew her knew damn well that she could plan ten major events and a kids’ tea party all at the same time.

“When’s that again?” Leila asked.

“Next month,” Sofia said, tense. “Then I’m free.”

“Good.”

Leila’s phone chimed again. She typed a text message and said, “By the way, a client is waiting for us at the house. I promised him an early look at this property before it hits the market. Oh, and I’m taking Brie to a Heat game next week. It’s her birthday. Wanna come? Make it a girls’ night?”

Brie was Leila’s assistant, who’d been with her through tough times and now, it seemed, really good times.

“Sure,” Sofia replied absently. “Girls’ night!”

“We’re almost there,” Leila said. “Head north on Alton.”

“Will your client mind my being there?” Sofia asked.

“No, he’ll love it,” Leila said. “Hotshot lawyer. You know the type.”

Sofia shrugged off the cold hand of dread. Don’t be paranoid, she told herself. Miami was crawling with hotshot lawyers.

“Last house on the block. Pull up to the gate.”

They were still some feet away, but Sofia could see the property walled off from the busy street and overflowing with tropical flowers. She let out a low whistle. “It’s like an oasis.”

“Go ahead and park at the curb behind that Porsche,” Leila said. “I don’t have the clicker for the gate.”

Oh, no, no, no, no, no! Sofia hit the breaks and came to an abrupt stop, sending Leila lurching forward and her purse tumbling to the car floor.

“Hey!” Leila cried.

What were the damn odds? When she’d left the note on the windshield of that same Porsche, the plan was to never see the owner again. She’d made fuzzy choices all day, but on that point she’d been very clear.

“You know what?” Sofia said, trying to buy time.

Leila smoothed her straight black hair. “What?”

“I should go.”

“Go where? We’ve got work to do! I want to hear your ideas for the open house.”

“I don’t feel so well.”

“Have you eaten today?”

At first glance, the Porsche appeared to be sitting empty, but now the driver’s door swung open and Jonathan Gunther—all six feet and however many inches of him—got out.

I’m going to lose it today.

“That’s my client,” Leila whispered. “You’re welcome.”

Sofia shrunk behind the wheel. With the top down, there was nowhere else to hide. Drivers stuck behind her were honking, and Leila nudged her in the ribs.

“Sofia, you’re holding up traffic.”

Other than pushing Leila out of her car, what choice did she have? She pulled up to the curb but refused to cut off the engine.

Jon came around to the passenger side and leaned down low. He flashed them the smile of a Viking conqueror.

“Jon,” Leila said. “This is my friend Sofia Silva. She’s a real-estate event planner. Sofia is planning our open house.”

Those brown eyes pinned her in place. “Hi, Sofia. I’m Jon.”

Sofia nodded and said nothing.

“She’s not feeling so well,” Leila explained.

Sofia gripped the steering wheel. When did Leila become such a chatterbox?

“Something you ate?” Jon asked innocently.

“I bet she hasn’t eaten all day. This woman lives on coffee.” Leila frowned. “I think she should come inside.”

“She absolutely should.”

Sofia had the feeling of having walked onto the set of a comedy sketch. The best thing, the smart thing, would be to speed off, leaving these two jokers in the dust. And yet, when Jon held open the car door for Leila, and she stepped out and gave him the briefest of hugs, Sofia felt a twinge of...envy.

“You’d be doing me a favor if you stayed,” Jon said. “I need a pair of objective eyes.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Leila said. “Sofia’s already in love with the place. She thinks it’s an oasis.”

Like any true oasis, Sofia thought, it was proving to be an illusion.

“Sofia, are you in love?” Jon asked.

“No. I don’t fall that easily.”

“Good. I’d hate it if you did.”

“And I’d love it if we got around to seeing the house,” Leila said. “That’s what we’re here for. Come on, Sofia! Let’s go!”