“See you Thursday, baby.” I pull my lips into a smile, albeit forced.
“Behave yourself,” I warn him.
“It’s not me we have to worry about.” He winks, loosening his grip on me.
“Besides wine with the girls tonight, I’ll be curled on the couch watching true crime television. I’ll then lie in bed with your old wooden bat while I imagine every little sound is a masked intruder that has come to drown me or chop me into tiny little pieces.”
He laughs. “Lock the door and set the security system. You’ll be fine.” He looks down at his watch. “Okay, now I really need to go, or I’m going to miss my flight.”
“Be safe,” I say, standing on my tiptoes to kiss the tip of his nose.
“Bye, babe.”
“Bye, Cole.”
I watch his strong suited body retreat and walk out the front door as I fold my arms over my stomach. Can our marriage even handle a baby right now?
Chapter 2
“Mrs. Mason, I’m glad you’re here,” Beatrice announces as I walk past her desk. “River Holtz has called three times already this morning asking what time you can fit him into your schedule.”
Beatrice has been part of the firm since we took over after Cole’s fathers’ retirement a few years ago. In fact, I think she was Robert Mason’s secretary for twenty years even before then. She knows what she’s doing.
“Who is River Holtz?” I ask, dismissively thumbing through a fresh stack of mail.
“Didn’t your husband tell you? He’s in town and wants to work with you on an acquisition. A club developer, if I recall.”
“Oh yes, he mentioned that. What time does he want to meet?” Her nose wrinkles slightly as she pushes her glasses up.
“That’s sort of why I’m glad you’re here.”
“Spit it out, Beatrice.”
She sighs. “He’s waiting in your office. And did I mention, he’s not very patient?”
“Shit,” I mumble under my breath as I smooth out my black sleeveless pencil dress. “Do we have a file on him?”
She hands me the small file. “This is all I could find.” She says, staring at me the way my mother used to when I was too quiet at the dinner table or when I came home way earlier than my curfew.
“Are you okay, Mrs. Mason?”
“Why?”
“That’s the first time I’ve heard you swear in all the years I’ve known you,” she responds quietly. She’s good at her job—not because she types the fastest or works long hours, but because she studies everything around her. She knows what needs to be done before we even tell her…she more than likely knows us better than we know ourselves.
“I’m just tired,” I answer, pushing away the depressive feelings that I thought I’d left at home this morning. Our relationship can be fixed by a BandAid … it has to be. The seven-year itch probably just hit a couple years too soon.
I start walking toward the heavy mahogany door, which is open just enough to get a good glimpse at my early, unexpected visitor.
“Hey, Marley,” Beatrice says quietly from behind me.
I turn around feeling annoyed. Not so much at her but because I have a man in my office who I still don’t know shit about and I haven’t even had my coffee yet. Cole literally fucked that up this morning. “What is it?”
“He’s probably not what you’re expecting.”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “I wasn’t expecting anyone this morning. I have two depositions to work on. He picked the wrong day to just stop in.”
She wrinkles her nose again. “That’s not quite what I meant.”
“Out with it,” I say, glancing between her and the door.
“He may have just gotten out of prison from the looks of it.” She pauses, smiling just a bit. “He knows how to wear a pair of trousers, though. If you can get a look from the back—”
“Beatrice!” I shout as quietly as I can to still prove my point. She raises her hands in defeat.
Without another word, I take one last look down at my simple black dress and open the door to my corner office. It’s easily the best in the whole suite.
My mouth gapes at the sight of the man standing at my window, peering down at the city streets. He’s got the ass of a professional soccer player, which is probably why Beatrice noted his trousers. His well-pressed white shirt is rolled up to his elbows showcasing a full sleeve of tattoos that reach his knuckles.
Definitely not my typical client.
I clear my throat, drawing his attention. My eyes widen, but I quickly gain back control. He’s got these light blue eyes—almost like glass. “What can I help you with, Mr. Holtz?” I ask, walking around to sit behind my desk. I’m going to need something to ground me.
He puts one hand in his pocket, running the fingers of the other over his perfect pink lips. “I have a deal that I need to close within the next forty-eight hours. I was hoping to work with Cole, but I hear he’s conveniently out of town.”
He hasn’t moved from the window so he’s perfectly aligned with my chair; the way his eyes shift from my legs to my eyes while he speaks doesn’t escape me.
“Why so quick?” I ask, pulling out a pen to take notes.
“When I want something, I get it. This is a special property, and I know that I’m not the only one who’s going to go after it.” I point to one the chairs that sit in front of my desk.
“Would you mind taking a seat so we can go over a few details?” He grins, walking towards my desk. His palms lay flat on the edge as he leans in close. His light brown hair falls forward, bringing my attention back to those eyes.
“I don’t like being told what to do.”
“I asked,” I chime back, biting down on the tip of my pen. He sits on the edge of the desk a few feet away from me.
“This is where I want to sit. Now, what do you need to know?”
You have got to be fucking kidding me. I buzz Beatrice.
“Yes, Mrs. Mason?”
“Bring me some coffee. Lots of coffee.”
“I’d like one too,” River says before Beatrice has a chance to respond.
“I’ll be right there,” she says before the phone clicks.
“First, give me the address of the property.”
He picks up a manila envelope and tosses it across the desk. “It’s all in there.”
“And the seller?” I ask.
“That’s in there, too.”
“So, why do you need me? This is what real estate agents are for, no?” My eyes are stuck to the door. If Beatrice doesn’t bring my coffee soon, I’m may lose it.
“The property isn’t zoned as a nightclub. What I want to do is run a restaurant through the early evening hours then transform it into the hottest night club in town. You’re going to be the one to make that happen.” The way his thigh muscles pulse through his slacks is distracting.
“Can you please take a chair?” He pulls a pencil from my desk, twirling it between his fingers. Not five seconds later, he snaps it between them.
“I’m fine. Besides, the view is better up here.” His eyes trace my legs, stop on my breasts for a split second before finally finding mine.
“I don’t know if I have time to take on your case.” It’s mostly a lie.
“But you will. Cole promised me that he’d get it taken care of and he’s not here.” I pull my reading glasses on and unclasp the manila envelope.
“Give me a few hours to look through this, and I’ll get some documentation ready for the council. Can I call you when I have something?” When he doesn’t answer, I look up to see him staring at me, thumb skimming over his lower lip.
“Are you sure you’re married to Cole Mason?”
“As far as I know. Do you have a problem with that?” He grins. Cocky ass.
“No. He just seems like he deserves worse…and you deserve better.”
“There’s this line,” I start, motioning my finger between us. “You’re not allowed to cross it.”