Dirty Money(15)

I shake my head and ease the car onto the entrance ramp of the highway.  "Just surprised that you aren't much of a ladies' man, given how hard  you've been hitting on me."

"That's because I finally found what I really want and I don't plan on  letting it get away from me." There's a teasing note in his voice to  take the seriousness out of the statement, but it still gives me  shivers.

Weird that I'm glad to hear that he's not a player. Even though he comes  across as a blowhard playboy, knowing that it's just for me? That makes  it all the more flattering and that much harder to resist. "I'm still  not sure why you want me when you can have anyone."

"You know why."

"Because I'm classy?"

"That, and those legs that you're showing off under your skirt. And the  way you blush when I flirt with you. And the way you're real polite to  everyone even when they treat you like shit. I like everything about  you, Ivy."

It takes me a moment to unpack what he's telling me. When did someone  treat me like shit in front of him? And how did he notice that I wore my  shortest skirt just to show off my legs? I'm sitting down. Or is he  guessing that I'd wear something a little business-but-flirty to meet  with him?

I shift in my seat a little, uncomfortable at being confronted but also a little breathless. "This is just business between us."

"All right, we'll go with that idea for now." He sounds amused again.

Weirdly enough, that's another thing I like about Boone. It's like no  matter how hard I push, he knows it's mostly shyness and not  disinterest. He's not scared off in the slightest by my standoffishness.  I tell myself I should be more firm, to put him firmly in the role of  client.         

     



 

But I can't seem to do it. Can't seem to want to do it, either.

The ride down the highway is pleasant, and we leave the bustle of San  Antonio and head north into much flatter, open territory. There's not a  lot of houses out this way, and I personally view that as a plus. It's a  little more remote here, a little more private. We talk about easy,  small things, occasionally interrupted by the electronic voice of the  map program telling me which exit to take.

When we get to front entrance of the mansion, I put the car in park and  roll down the window to type the code in at the gate. I'm nervous,  because up close, the gate looks a little rusty instead of clean, and  some of the bushes lining the long fence that wraps around the property  are overgrown. The gate creaks open a moment later and then I drive us  up the winding driveway to park in front of the house.

"We're here," I announce in my sunniest voice and turn off the car. "What do you think so far?"

Boone looks over at me, one dark eyebrow going up. "You want me to be polite or you want the truth?"

"The truth, of course. We're looking at this house for you."

He gazes back up at the house and I try to see it how he might. There's a  few patchy spots on the shingled roof, the landscaping is ragged and  overgrown, and there's a fountain in the courtyard that looks a little  greenish. "I think if I'm trying to make someone buy my house for a few  million, I'd make it look better."

I nod, because I'm in total agreement. "Sometimes the photos are  slightly altered to make the house look better. That might be the case  here. Do you still want to go in and look around?"

"And spend time with you? Of course." His gaze is intense as he watches me. "I've got you for the whole afternoon, don't I?"

A little shiver ripples through me. "You do."

"Well, then I plan on taking advantage of that."

We go up the steps to the house and the double doors have a lockbox just  below the doorknobs. I type in the code and pull the key out, then  unlock the door. Cool air rushes over my skin as the door opens, and I  turn to look at Boone. "Clients first."

"Age before beauty, you mean?"

I chuckle. "Whatever gets you in the door, you stubborn man."

He grins at me, and it's clear he's enjoying our banter. I am, too.

Boone saunters in, admiring the foyer. The place is completely empty of  furniture. They haven't even staged the place, which surprises me. The  rooms echo and there's a fine layer of dust on the floors, which tells  me the owners haven't been living here for at least a month. The tile  below my feet is expensive, if a little dated. There's a staircase with  an out-of-style bannister and ugly beige carpet on the steps. "This is a  nice, spacious room," I tell him, deciding to focus on the positive.  "Very open-feeling."

"Mmm." He glances around, and then up. "I like the antlers."

Antlers? I look up, and sure enough, there is a gaudy, antlered  chandelier over the main entry-hall light. I can't help the horrified  giggle that escapes me. "You like that?"

"Yeah, it's real nice. I might do something like that when I get my  place. Antlers in every room. Hang some deer heads on the walls and I  got myself a real nice place."

The idea's so horrific to me-and so at odds with his need for  "class"-that an awful little giggle escapes my throat. I try to smother  my laugh but it ends up as a snort, which just makes everything worse.

His eyes widen and he looks over at me. "What?"

"Nothing," I mumble, then press my fingers to my lips, trying to stifle more laughter.

That slow, dazzlingly sexy smile curves his mouth and I start to feel  weak in the knees. "Lemme guess. Antler chandelier isn't classy?"

I give my head a little shake and another snorted giggle erupts.

"What about deer heads?"

My shoulders start to shake with the force of holding back my laughter.

"Moose? I got myself an elk, too. I got about thirty trophies, actually.  Could hang 'em all in one room and they could all look at each other."  He gestures at the entryway. "Maybe throw down some animal-skin rugs."         

     



 

Now he's just messing with me. I can't stop laughing, though. It snorts  out of me in the most awful, piglike way, and I can't seem to hold it  in. "That . . . sounds . . . terrible," I gasp between giggles.

"You don't want a buncha dead animals giving you the eye when you walk  in? Come on." The look on his face is pleased, as if he likes making me  laugh. "Beats boring old wallpaper."

I just keep laughing, and have to hold on to his arm for support. The  dusty floor is slick and my shoes are in danger of skidding, and I can't  concentrate with all the laughter pouring out of me. Boone likes my  nearness, though. He pulls my hand and tucks it into the crook of his  arm and then places his other hand over it, like we're a couple.

"Shall I show you the rest of the palace, my lady?" he teases.

"I'm the realtor here. I should be showing it to you."

He raises a dark brow at me and leans in. "Ivy, darlin', I think we both  know just by looking at this that I'm not giving them a dollar, much  less two point five million of them."

And I start giggling again, because it's so horrible. He's so right. This place is awful. Dated, ugly, and overpriced.

"Let's go into the main living area, shall we?" he says grandly, and we move forward.

There's ugly beige carpeting in every room, but that's truly cosmetic.  The ceilings are high and there's a hairline crack or two that was  photoshopped out in the pictures but I feel the need to point out. The  kitchen has nice appliances, but they're all at least ten years old. The  pretty tile is cracked in several places. The wine cellar has broken  racks and looks cheap in person. The immense swimming pool in the  backyard needs to be regrouted, replastered, and the tile back there is  cracked as well. I feel obligated to disclose this information to Boone  as we go along, because they're minor fixes. If he likes the house, we  can fix it up and make it like new again-

And then I catch myself, because I'm acting like it's going to be our house together. Which is crazy.

We check out the upstairs, and it's spacious but equally dated. The view  is nice, and I make sure to point that out. Boone's been rather quiet  as we look around, and that worries me. Is he having second thoughts  about me? And the house? I mean, it's clear the house isn't great, but  it's also just the first one I've shown him. There are plenty of other  houses out there.

I worry about all of this as he turns to me as we leave the master  bathroom. It's one of the nicest rooms in the house, with travertine  tile and a rain-effect shower. It's also a good note to end on. "So what  do you think? I know it's big and spacious, but it also needs updating.  Your thoughts?"

"You like it?" Boone asks.

"Me?"

He gives me another toe-curling smile. "Yeah. You."

"As a realtor?"

"I was thinking more like as my woman. But sure, let's say that. Realtor."

I can feel a blush heating my cheeks, which seems to happen a lot when  I'm around Boone. He makes me flustered. "I think it needs updating, but  the bones are good. You could sink some money into this place and it  could be really lovely." He's watching me intensely, and his hand is  still covering mine, and for some reason that makes me exceptionally  nervous. I slide out of his grip and pretend to be considering the house  again, walking into the next room. "As your realtor, I'd say we could  knock the price down a decent chunk in lieu of updates that need to be  made, but none of that matters if you don't like the place or if it  doesn't fit your vision."