Page 9 of Daddy's Naughty Realtor

Jeremy: Was it? Or was it the first honest moment we've had since we’ve reconnected?

I set my phone down without responding. This is exactly what I was afraid of happening working with him. The lines blurring, the professional relationship complicated by... whatever this attraction is. I need to focus on the Franklin Street development. On my career. On maintaining the independence I've worked so hard to build. My phone chimes again.

Jeremy: Dinner tomorrow? The development plans came back from the architect. We should discuss.

This is safer territory. Business. Development plans. Professional dinner.

Me: Fine. Email the plans over and I'll review them before we meet.

Jeremy: I'd rather present them in person. 7pm at my place. Bring your appetite.

It's not a request. It's barely even an invitation. Just Jeremy Ford, used to giving orders and having them obeyed, expecting me to show up at his home for a “business" dinner we both know won't be entirely about business.

I should refuse. Should insist on meeting at my office, or a restaurant, or anywhere with witnesses and bright lighting and reasons not to give in to the tension that crackles whenever we're alone together.

Me: I'll be there.

As soon as I send the reply, I’m mentally cataloging my closet for something that says "serious business woman" rather than "woman who can't stop thinking about her ex."

Jeremy: Looking forward to it, kitten.

* * *

"Wait, he called you 'kitten' again?"

Melissa's voice comes through my phone speaker, high with excitement. I'm on a group call with the Naughty Girls, sprawled across my bed after a long day of showings.

"Yes," I admit, unable to keep the smile from my voice despite my best intentions. "And before you all start squealing, it doesn't mean anything. It's just his way of... I don't know, trying to stir up the old feelings between us."

"Or… He’s establishing dominance," Karen says slowly. "Honey, that's foreplay."

"It is not," I protest, but my face heats all the same.

"Does he look at you like he wants to eat you alive?" Denise asks. "Because that's textbook Daddy Dom behavior. Chapter one of every book we read."

I think about the way Jeremy's eyes darken when they meet mine across a conference table, the way they linger on my mouth when I'm speaking, the intensity there that has nothing to do with real estate development.

"Sometimes," I admit.

The chorus of delighted squeals that follows makes me hold the phone away from my ear.

"Our Gina is getting her very own Daddy Dom!" Autumn crows.

"Slow down," I interject. "Nothing is happening. We're working together. That's all. Remember, he’s the one who broke my heart. I’m keeping it strictly professional this time around."

"Uh-huh," Christine says skeptically. "And these flowers he sent? The private dinner invitation? The pet names? That's all standard client behavior?"

Put like that, it does sound...

"He's just being friendly." The words sound ridiculous, even to me.

"Friendly is a Christmas card," Melissa points out. "This man wants you, Gina. And based on that 'kitten' business, he's doing it in a very specific way."

My mind flashes to the books we've been devouring in our club. The strong, dominant men who take charge, who see past the heroine's defenses, who call her "baby" and "kitten" and "good girl" in ways that make her melt. If I’m honest to myself, Jeremy absolutely could fit in with any of them.

"It's not like that," I insist, though my voice lacks conviction.

I think about how Jeremy acts; confident, decisive, brooking no argument. About how his hand always finds the small of my back when we're walking, guiding me, a touch that's both possessive and protective.

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