Читать книгу Brides, Babies And Billionaires - Мишель Смарт, Rebecca Winters - Страница 87

Six

Kate was always polished and professional when she showed houses. Nobody wanted a real estate agent who was slovenly. That was just a fact. She was careful with her hair and makeup and put forth her best appearance.

But for this afternoon with Seth? She had gone above and beyond her normal preparations. She hadn’t just carefully applied mascara—she’d primed and preened, showered and shaved until she was as glamorous as she could possibly be on her budget. If she’d had the cash, she would have gotten her hair blown out. As it was, she’d used hot rollers to tease her hair into a delicate half twist that she’d seen on Pinterest. It’d taken her a good half hour, which was a solid twenty-five minutes longer than she normally spent on her hair.

She was also thankful her best pair of trousers had buttoned. True, that button was straining as she drove her car toward the first house on the schedule for the day. If she were alone in the car, she’d undo the button and let her stomach relax.

But she wasn’t alone. Seth Bolton was in her passenger seat, filling the space with his raw masculinity and leather jacket, tapping his fingers on his jeans. They were a dark-wash denim today, not nearly as scuffed as the black ones he’d worn the last time she’d seen him. And instead of a distressed T-shirt, he had on a gray flannel shirt. She’d never thought of gray flannel as a particularly attractive fabric before, but on him?

Yup. Keeping her button fastened and her baby bump sucked in.

Every day it seemed her clothing shrank just that much more. And for a woman who’d maintained a steady weight since she’d lost the freshman fifteen during her sophomore year, to suddenly be faced with a wardrobe that might not fit today and most definitely wouldn’t fit tomorrow was more than a little daunting. Not to mention that she had to buy replacement clothes on a supertight budget.

She could tell by the way Seth fidgeted that he wasn’t used to being a passenger but despite that, he hadn’t changed the radio station or adjusted the mirrors or any of the other things Roger had always done every time she’d had to drive him home after he’d had too much to drink.

After all, Seth had arrived at Zanger Realty this morning on a motorcycle that didn’t look familiar. Not that she remembered much about her wedding day fiasco, but she was certain that the bike hadn’t been candy-apple red.

She’d never been into bikers before, but looking at that beautiful machine this morning as Seth straddled it, his hair tousled from the wind, those dimples in full force...

She shivered and pushed those thoughts aside. She really needed Seth to buy a house. Even if his big ideas about the museum of motorcycles fell through, as long as he bought a nice house with a big piece of land attached, it’d be enough. But if there was something more...

She was being absolutely ridiculous as she turned onto the street of the first house. “We’ve got thirteen houses today,” she warned him.

“Is that a lot? It seems like a lot,” he said in a thoughtful voice before he turned that winning smile on her.

It was a good thing she was sitting because that smile was dangerous to her balance. “I’ve done more in a day. I don’t anticipate you’ll love them all.”

“You mean, we might have to do this again sometime?”

Was she imagining things or did he sound happy about that prospect? “If you don’t find something you like, we might.”

“That would be too bad, wouldn’t it?”

He was just a Good Samaritan, she reminded herself. A hot, kind, wealthy Good Samaritan. He’d probably been a Boy Scout or something and this house-hunting expedition was the adult equivalent of helping an old lady across the street.

He’d comforted her on the day of her not-wedding. He’d made sure that she was safe and secure in a hotel that night. He hadn’t taken advantage of her confusion or vulnerability.

Seth Bolton was a hell of a good guy. Maybe the best she’d ever known.

“Saturdays are usually free for me—after about eleven,” he added. “We could have a standing date.”

Oh, Lord—how was she supposed to react to that? “We might have to do that,” she said, keeping her voice carefully professional. “Even if you love a house today, there are still the commercial properties to deal with.”

A standing date didn’t mean anything. Hell, it wasn’t even a date. For all she knew, he always looked at women with that intensity. He probably wasn’t flirting on purpose and besides—why would he flirt with her? She was pregnant and had not demonstrated the best of judgment. He might not hold abandoning Roger against her, but he’d be well within his rights to blame her for settling on Roger in the first place. Frankly, who could blame him?

So there wasn’t anything here. He was using her as his real estate agent out of the kindness of his heart. It was a generous thing to do, but that was it.

She absolutely should not be thinking about Seth and dating in the same breath. No dating. He was a client. That was final.

How many times would she have to repeat that before she believed it?

“This property,” she said as she pulled up in front of the split-level ranch in the Rapid Valley neighborhood because she was a professional and would not ask if his Saturdays were free because he was single, by God, “has a three-car garage.” It was the only redeeming feature of the property, but she wasn’t going to say that out loud. It was an ugly house. The shrubs were overgrown, the paint was peeling—absolutely no curb appeal, and she could tell from the pictures that the inside was in no better shape.

If it were up to her, it would be a complete teardown. But it wasn’t. All she could do was sell the positives of any home. She almost hadn’t put this house on the list, but sometimes seeing a house a client definitely didn’t want helped clarify what they did, and since Seth had been vague about what he wanted—beyond no neighbors—she had to work from the process of elimination.

“So there would be plenty of room for a workshop and multiple motorcycles. Or a car, assuming you have one?”

“I own a car.” He chuckled. “And a truck. Don’t forget that I grew up in Rapid City. We have this thing called winter—maybe you’ve heard of it?”

She shot him a look. “I’m familiar with the concept.”

Oh, there were those dimples again. She really needed to stop making him smile. “I also have three personal motorcycles, but I’ve been known to test out prototypes. It’d be great to have space for all of them.”

In the week and a half since Seth Bolton had walked into Zanger Realty, Kate’s dreams had gotten a lot more vivid. It wasn’t like she hadn’t dreamed of him before—she had.

Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones—that was her answer to every strange new change in her mind and body. Because her dreams now weren’t just nonsensical images all jumbled together. Her dreams of Seth stripping her down—again—and this time instead of shaking her hand and riding off into the night, he laid her out on a bed and spent the evening feasting on her body.

She always woke up unsatisfied, with an edge of longing that no dream could fully erase.

Seth looked at the property. “It’s kind of ugly.”

“But there’s a lot of potential,” she pointed out. He slanted a side-eye look at her and she realized that she had said that with a little too much fake enthusiasm. “Okay, it’s a little ugly. But there are things you can do to make it less hideous.”

“You’re really selling it,” he said drily. “I guess we should look inside?”

“Never judge a book by its cover,” she agreed.

He snorted. “The Boltons are a family of bikers. They look like mercenary criminals but underneath, they’re all great big teddy bears.” He paused, hand on the handle. “Don’t tell my dad I called him a teddy bear.”

She laughed as they got out of the car. “It’s all confidential,” she reminded him.

The split-level ranch did not improve in appearance outside the car. “It better have one hell of a kitchen,” Seth commented, kicking at the unmowed grass.

Kate winced. Well, now she knew that a good kitchen was important. “Don’t see what it is. See what it can be.”

Seth scowled at her. “The other twelve aren’t this ugly, are they?”

“No. I don’t normally tell people this, but we’re going in order from what I think you’re least likely to buy. But,” she added before he could suggest skipping half the list, “I’ve been wrong before. People can be surprising in what they want, and I don’t know you well enough yet to be able to say definitively what you’ll like and what you won’t.”

Seth’s gaze snapped to hers and there it was again, that tension between them that hummed like a string, and Kate’s brain took that moment to remind her this was the man who’d stripped her skirts off her and gotten a full view of her wedding thong.

He took a step closer. “I imagine,” he said, his voice low, “that if we make this a standing date, you’ll figure out what I’m looking for real quick.”

She could feel the heat in her cheeks, but she couldn’t look away, couldn’t put any distance between them. “I imagine I will,” she murmured.

His eyes darkened, and he looked dangerous in the very best sort of way.

Against her will, her body pitched toward his. His lips parted—he had nice lips, full and warm and...

“Kate.” His voice stroked over her name like a lover’s kiss as he took another step closer.

“Seth,” she replied. It came out high and breathy.

Good God, what the hell was she doing? She couldn’t—really, she couldn’t. She was pregnant and coming off a failed long-term relationship and he was a client and...and...well, there were just a lot of really good reasons why she couldn’t act on any of her fantasies right now.

She pulled away before she did something idiotic, like throw herself at him. “We...” She cleared her throat and tried again in her real estate agent voice. “We should go inside.”

Some of the heat in his gaze cooled. “We should,” he agreed. But he didn’t sound happy about it.

And he didn’t get any happier as they toured the house. The place was just as hideous on the inside as it was on the outside. The kitchen still had original appliances, the carpet was probably early 1980s—a cream color that had dimmed to a dull gray with grime. The wallpaper was peeling in the bathroom, and the tub was the stuff of horrors.

Kate cleared her throat. “As you can see, there is room to grow.”

Seth snorted again. “But what? Is that mold, do you think? You shouldn’t be breathing this air.” He ushered her out of the bathroom, his hand on the small of her back. When they were in the hallway, he didn’t remove it.

“You have to look into the future. Do you want room for a girlfriend or a wife?” She swallowed. “A family?”

His hand dropped away from her waist. “I don’t have any plans for family anytime soon and I’m not seeing anyone,” he told her. He stopped in the middle of peeking into the linen closet. “How are things going? With the pregnancy, I mean.”

Kate blushed from the tips of her ears to her toes. “Good.” Aside from her parents and Roger and Harold, few people knew she was pregnant. It had been hard enough to explain to everyone why the wedding was off without the added complication of an unplanned pregnancy. She had wanted to keep it quiet for long as long as possible.

Which meant she wasn’t very good at talking about it yet.

Seth peeked into the third bedroom and winced in horror at the walls. “Is Roger going to step up?”

“In his way,” she admitted. “He’s been willing to provide child support.”

Seth heard what she didn’t say. “But nothing else?”

The concern in his eyes did things to her that had nothing to do with his dimples or her inability to stop blushing. He cared, damn his hide. He cared about her and her pregnancy, and she had the urge to tell him about all the strange things happening to her because he was the only person who’d asked. “No. We should look at the basement.”

They went downstairs. The heart-of-pine paneling had seen better days, just like everything else in this house. “So he’s not going to be a father to his child. Typical.”

Kate was surprised by the bitterness in Seth’s voice. “That’s an accurate assessment of the situation,” she said. When he gave her a hard look, she added, “Which is for the best, honestly.”

“If you say so.” He surveyed the rest of the basement room, his hands on his hips. “I think we’re done here. We can cross this off the list.”

“Done.” They headed outside. “No more split-level ranches?”

“Good Lord, no,” he said, getting back into the car. “I like the idea of having room to grow, though. There’s always the possibility of houseguests, at the very least. Julie might come over.”

She nodded and tried not to imagine what sort of houseguest this Julie would be. Young, pretty and not pregnant, most likely. Kate shook her head trying to get images out of her mind and focused on her job—the job she desperately needed.

She wished she could show him her favorite house—the one in the Colonial Pines neighborhood that had been on the market for almost a year. If she’d been able to afford it, she would have snapped that home up in a heartbeat. But even with combining her and Roger’s incomes, the house on Bitter Root was out of reach—it was over twice the price of homes like this one and she didn’t want to push Seth into more house than he wanted.

So she put that house out of her mind and focused on her job. “We have other options. One down, twelve more to go.”

Seth groaned.