Page 26 of The Broker

I tossed the paper towel in the garbage can, checked my reflection in the mirror, and headed toward the entryway. I pulled open the door, and as I took in the sight of her, my grip tightened instinctively on the doorframe.

The last time I’d seen her, she hadn’t been prepared. She’d had on minimal makeup, her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, and she’d been wearing shorts and an old t-shirt. Today, she came ready, like she’d made an effort to look as tempting as possible.

Charlotte wore a pair of tight leggings, a purple sports bra, and a gauzy white shirt over it. The fabric was paper thin, so I could see her sexy bare stomach beneath it. Plus, the shirt was so loose fitting, it hung off one shoulder and exposed the intricate crisscrossing straps of her bra. Her hair was up in a smooth, sleek knot, and her makeup, while muted, was sultry.

The desire to peel her out of her clothes was so strong, so instantaneous, I went dizzy for a moment.

Internally, I wanted to scowl. Yes, she was hot, but she was too young for me, not to mention she was the boss’s daughter. Hisonlykid. Which meant she was probably spoiled as hell.

Her gaze worked its way up my body, and when her eyes focused on mine, her shoulders lifted with a heavy, preparing breath. “Hi.”

“Hey,” I said, backing away from the door to allow her space. “Come on in.”

She stepped into my entryway, toed off her shoes without me asking, and peered around like she half-expected an ambush was waiting for her. When she didn’t find one, her attention went to the living room.

“You made some progress,” she said quietly.

I massaged the back of my neck. “Yeah. My parents came over and helped me out. Well, it was mostly my mom—my dad has a bad back and he just sat on the couch.”

Um, why are you telling her this?

I gestured toward the space that was no longer a labyrinth of boxes. “You want to have a seat?”

She shook her head. “I’m good.”

Her body language screamed she was uncomfortable and just wanted to get this thing over with, and I understood. I didn’t like seeing her like this, feeling so awkward and unconfident.

I jammed my hands in the pockets of my jeans and did my best to act casual. “You don’t have to do anything,” I said. “You can tell him I changed my mind. Throw me under the bus if you want to.”

“It’s fine.” Her words were clipped. “I need the money, and you need the help, right?”

I was trying to be a nice guy here. “Sure.”

“Okay, what were you thinking? I mean, obviously, the kitchen. What else?”

Now I was irritated. “Uh... the bathrooms too, I guess.”

“I don’t do laundry.” It came from her so abruptly, it was like she’d just thought of it. “I mean, I don’t want to doyours. Bedding and towels are okay, but not clothes.”

“Fine by me.” I could certainly handle doing my own laundry. Plus, the idea of her doing it felt wrong.

“And I don’t do windows. Too time consuming.”

I nodded.

Then, she ticked her chin up, trying to look strong, but her uneven voice gave her away. “Bedrooms?”

There wasn’t a point in cleaning the guest or spare rooms, but my bedroom was where I spent the majority of my time. “Just mine.”

I hadn’t put any heat into my words, but it didn’t matter. Now we were both picturing the last time we’d been in there, and the air between us snapped tight.

Her effect on me was unreal and frustrating. Desire trapped inside me bounced around, searching for a weakness. It needed to escape, to have freedom and take what it wanted.

No. It’s not allowed.

The fuck if that didn’t make me want her more.

“And my office,” I added.

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