Читать книгу Brides, Babies And Billionaires - Мишель Смарт, Rebecca Winters - Страница 90

Nine

So that was a no, then.

Seth took one look at Kate and sighed. She was wearing a black pantsuit with a white blouse that was buttoned up almost to her chin. Her glorious hair had been scraped back into a severe ponytail and there wasn’t a smile to be seen anywhere despite the fact that it was another lovely late-October Saturday. She looked more like she was on her way to a funeral than a house tour.

And if that didn’t make her position clear enough, there was no missing the way Kate’s pretty mouth twisted into a scowl when Seth walked into Zanger Realty at ten fifty-eight in the morning.

Definitely a no.

He shouldn’t be disappointed. This had been the most likely outcome, after all. There was no getting around the reality of the situation, and that reality was that Kate was expecting and she didn’t want to get involved with anyone.

He should be relieved. Her personal life was a mess and only an idiot would put himself in the middle of that. Her rejection was going to save him a lot of trouble and not a little heartache.

And yet—relief was not the feeling that had his stomach plummeting. No, he was not disappointed. And if he were, it was about the fact that he was going to be missing out on some great casual sex. After all, he didn’t have to worry about getting her pregnant, right?

But that didn’t explain the weight of sadness that settled around his shoulders. He and Kate could’ve been great together, but now? They’d never know.

Still, he was a gentleman and a man of his word. He was not going to make this awkward, nor was he going to try to change her mind. He would not badger, nag or wheedle. He had no interest in being with a woman he had to wear down. He’d seen those kinds of guys in action in college and “pathetic desperation” didn’t make anyone attractive. Good sex became great when everyone involved was equally enthusiastic about it.

So he straightened his shoulders and put on a friendly grin, even if it took effort to do so. “Good morning, Kate. What will we be looking at today?” Because the answer obviously wasn’t each other.

Her scowl deepened as she stared at something on her desk. She looked positively insulted by his presence, which didn’t make any sense. She hadn’t even been insulted when he propositioned her. Shocked, maybe. Curious? Definitely. But not insulted. What the hell was going on?

“I have nine houses in your new price range on the schedule. We should get going.”

The no couldn’t have been louder if she’d shouted it. What a shame. “Nine sounds good,” he said, striving his hardest for friendly. “Thirteen was too much last weekend.” She still wasn’t meeting his gaze, so he charged ahead. “I made dinner reservations at the Main Course for six thirty, but if you don’t think we’ll be done before then, I can change the time.” She hadn’t been comfortable at the diner—or at least, she’d been okay until Jack showed up.

Tonight would be different. They’d have a quiet dinner, just the two of them and a bunch of house listings. No interfering family friends, no distractions.

Although, given the body language she was putting off, maybe they could use a few distractions. Because even closed down, she still called to him on a fundamental level that had nothing to do with reason or logic.

He’d made his offer last week because he’d convinced himself that he could show her a good time, no strings attached. But today? When the answer was no?

He should be able to let it go. He’d asked, she’d said no, end of discussion.

But looking at her now, he wasn’t sure his offer had been only about her. Because he still wanted her. Desperately.

She hadn’t answered yet. “Kate? We’re still on for dinner, right?” He expected any number of polite excuses—she’d had a long night, she had other plans, she would be too tired. She had an actual funeral, thereby justifying the outfit. Something.

So when she looked at him through her lashes and said, “That sounds nice,” in a tone that stroked over his ears like a lover’s kiss, he didn’t know what to make of it. And when she shot him a nervous smile before dropping her gaze again, he had even less of an idea.

Because that wasn’t a no. It sure as hell wasn’t a yes, either.

What if he was looking at a maybe?

* * *

Five hours later, he had absolutely no idea what to make of Kate Burroughs. Through eight other houses, she’d kept her distance, never getting within two feet of him. Not like he was going to grab her, but still. She was definitely not close enough to touch. No accidentally brushing hands as they stood in a narrow hallway—of which there were several. No putting his hand on her lower back to guide her out of a room. No gentlemanly offers of his hand or his arm for her to lean against as they walked over uneven paver stones.

However, every single time he’d glanced at her, he’d caught her watching him. She always looked away quickly, as if she were going to pretend she hadn’t been staring, but he could feel her gaze upon him. She’d also thawed—slowly at first, but she’d gotten noticeably warmer to him as the day had progressed. She’d left her scowl behind at the first house—a markedly more habitable dwelling than nearly anything they’d looked at the previous week. By the third house, her lips had gone from a tight line to a gentle smile and by the fifth house, she was laughing at his jokes again. By the seventh house, her eyes softened and she let her gaze linger upon him when he’d glance at her, like she didn’t want to look away.

She was still absolutely captivating.

He had to play this cool. As much as he desperately wanted to pull her into his arms and show her exactly how good they could be together, he didn’t dare. She had to come to him, and besides—her decision was separate from their business dealings.

So he was doing his best not to think about anything other than real estate. It was a battle he wasn’t necessarily winning, but he was trying.

“This isn’t bad,” he said, standing in the middle of a gleaming kitchen with a professional six-burner stove, a fridge with cabinet facings on the door and an island with a marble countertop. The whole thing was done in whites and grays with splashes of red and bright blue for accents. This was the last house of the day and they were on schedule, with a whole thirty-five minutes before their dinner reservations.

Kate snorted. “Four hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars and it’s not bad?”

“Compared to what we looked at last week, it’s amazing,” he conceded.

He stood at the island, trying to get a sense for how the room flowed. And the fact that he was thinking about the flow of rooms was odd. He’d never considered work triangles and flow before. He and his mom had lived in a cramped two-room place before Billy Bolton had come into their lives, and then they’d moved into Billy’s house and it’d been great simply because it was a real house with a room—and a bathroom—all his own.

The kid he’d been would take the first decent option he got. But he was a man of means now. He could afford to be picky.

He looked up at Kate, who was staring at the kitchen with open longing. Picky, indeed. “What do you think?”

“It’s not going to be my house, Seth,” she said in a quiet voice.

Something in her tone pulled at him. She sounded almost sad about that and he remembered what she’d said last week—she’d arranged for him to look at the least likely house first. This was the last house of the day, which meant she thought this was the best house they’d looked at yet.

“But you have a professional opinion, Kate. What do you think?” When she didn’t answer right away, he added, “I’d appreciate it if you’re honest.”

About this kitchen, about the houses they looked at, about whether or not dinner was going to be painfully awkward.

About him. He wanted her to be honest about what she wanted from him. Just the commission or something else?

When she still didn’t answer, Seth wished he could take it back. He never should’ve offered her a sexual relationship last week. He should’ve left it at flirting and making her smile, at making sure she was landing on her feet.

But then Jack had shown up and watching him hit on Kate had been more than Seth could take. She was his, not Jack’s and not Roger’s.

Except she wasn’t. She wasn’t a possession he could do with what he pleased. She was a complicated woman who had her own life to live.

“I’m just asking, Kate. Your opinion is important to me. Just tell me what you think. I’ve never done this before.”

“You’ve never bought a house before?”

“That, either.”

Her lips twisted to the side in a scowl that he now recognized as confusion. “You’ve never propositioned a pregnant older woman before?”

Finally, they were at the heart of the matter. “Oddly enough, no. There’s a first for everything, isn’t there?” He gave her a warm smile, hoping that would help.

He wasn’t sure it did. “But you’ve offered to have no-strings relationships with other women?”

He tried to process the line of thinking behind that question. How long had she been with Roger? Kate didn’t strike Seth as the kind of woman who’d had a lot of casual relationships. “I went to college.”

The scowl was back. But at least this time he’d earned it. He braced for her cutting rejoinder, but instead she squared her shoulders and said, “This is an amazing house,” in what he thought of as her real estate agent voice. “The master suite has that Jacuzzi bathtub and the office on the first floor has an amazing view. It sits on two acres so you don’t have any neighbors within immediate line of sight and although it only has a two-car garage, there’s more than enough room to expand or even build a separate workshop. The property is fenced so if you’re ever going to have a dog or children, there would be a huge backyard for them to play in.”

“It is a great house on paper,” he agreed. “But I can read. I want to know what you think of the house, Kate.”

“It was originally on the market nine months ago for five ninety-nine,” she went on, ignoring him. “But was overvalued and the market has been a little soft at this price range. The owners are probably desperate to sell, so we might be able to get them down to four-fifty.”

He might never figure this woman out, but he was going to have a hell of a good time trying. “Kate.” She swung around to look at him. “Do you like it?”

She blinked at him in confusion and he had to wonder, had anyone ever asked her what she liked before?

Then she exhaled heavily, looking defeated. He didn’t like that look on her. “Roger and I...” she started, her voice trailing off. Then she tried again. “We’d already purchased a house when this came on the market and besides, it was out of our price range. But I’ve been through it several times now and...”

Her hand stroked over the marble countertop affectionately as she walked to the sink, making his gut tighten. He wanted her to touch him like that, to hear that longing in her voice when she talked to him.

Great. Now he was jealous of a house. Bad enough he was jealous of Jack, but at least that was another guy. The house was just a house.

She leaned against the sink and stared out the window into that big fenced backyard and damned if she didn’t look like she belonged here. She loved this house and for some insane reason, he wanted to give it to her.

“The house just makes sense,” she went on, a note of defeat in her voice that he didn’t miss. “The way the rooms are arranged, the way everything works together—it’s one of the best houses I’ve ever been in. Nothing to compromise on, nothing I’d want to change. I’ve always been able to see myself living here. It’d be a wonderful place to raise a family.”

He understood what she was saying. She hadn’t been able to afford it even when she’d had Roger’s income to kick in and now? Even if the price could be negotiated down more, it’d still be beyond her. Instead, she was going to have to watch someone else buy her dream home.

Unless... “Question.” She turned, her eyebrows raised. “We haven’t started on the industrial properties for the museum. What happens if I buy a piece of property for, say, four million dollars? Will your commission be enough to buy this house?”

The color drained out of her face, which was not the reaction he’d been hoping to get. “Seth,” she said softly, sounding even sadder—which had not been his goal. “You can’t just snap your fingers and solve all of my problems. I got myself into my own mess and I am going to get myself out of it, too.” She swallowed, her eyes huge. “I don’t need you to save me.”

“That’s not what this is.” But even as he said it, he wasn’t entirely sure that was the truth. He didn’t think about it in terms of saving her. He thought about it in terms of helping. Of course, why he felt this compulsion to help her was another question he didn’t want to investigate too deeply right now.

“Then tell me what this is about. The truth, Seth.”

The truth? Hell. The truth was he was worried about her. He couldn’t stop fantasizing about her. He was glad she hadn’t married Roger. He knew how hard single mothers had it and he didn’t want it to be that hard for her. It shouldn’t be that hard for anyone, but especially not for her.

He didn’t say any of that. Instead, he closed the distance between them and cupped her face in his hands. “This,” he said, lowering his lips to hers, “is the truth.”

Then he kissed her.