Page 11 of Daddy's Naughty Realtor

"Of course you did, kitten." His laugh tells me he doesn't believe me for a second.

That word again, soft and dangerous, breaking down my defenses bit by bit.

“Don’t lie to me, kitten.” The,or elselingers unspoken in the air. “Come with me.”

Dinner is already laid out on the terrace. He’s plated steak, asparagus, with a bottle of red wine breathing beside elegant place settings. Nothing overtly romantic, but intimate all the same. The development plans are nowhere in sight.

"Where are the plans?" I ask, maintaining the pretense that this is a business dinner.

"After dinner." He pulls out my chair. "Let's enjoy the meal first. Business later."

I should insist. Should establish clear boundaries right now. Instead, I sit, letting him pour the wine.

Throughout dinner, he's the perfect host. He’s attentive, charming, keeping the conversation flowing effortlessly between current events, mutual acquaintances, and my recent listings. Nothing overly flirtatious, nothing I could definitely point to as crossing a line. There’s an elephant in the room. Questions I have. Why? Why did he leave? I don’t feel comfortable asking while the deal is on the table. After the deal closes, then, I’ll demand the answers. Keep this professional, for now.

Except for the way his fingers brush mine when passing the salt. The way his knee occasionally presses against mine beneath the table. The way his eyes never leave my face when I'm speaking, like he's cataloging every expression, every reaction. He’s attentive, not in a creepy way, but in a way that makes me feel heard. He asks specific questions and shows interest in the answers. It’s like catching up with an old friend. I don’t like it… and yet…

By the time we finish the main course, I've had two glasses of wine and feel warm, relaxed, my professional armor slipping despite my best intentions.

"I should look at those plans," I say as he clears our plates. "It's getting late."

"It's barely nine," he counters, returning with two small plates of chocolate mousse. "The night is young. I remember back in college when we wouldn’t leave to go out until later than this."

He sets the dessert in front of me, his hand brushing the nape of my neck as he leans over. The touch is brief, feather-light, but it sends a current racing down my spine that makes me inhale sharply.

"Jeremy," I say, my voice steadier than I feel, "what are we doing here?"

He takes his seat across from me, eyes dark and intent in the candlelight. "Having dinner. Discussing business. Eventually."

"This doesn't feel like business."

"Doesn't it? I'm certainly interested in a long-term arrangement with you, Gina." The double meaning is unmistakable. "One that would be... mutually satisfying."

My mouth goes dry. "That's..."

"Honest," he finishes for me. "Something we've been dancing around since the moment I walked back into your life."

He's right, damn him. We have been dancing around this… This attraction, this pull between us that has nothing to do with real estate and everything to do with the way he looks at me, the way he says my name, the way he calls me "kitten" in that voice that makes my knees weak.

"It would be unprofessional," I say, clinging to my last defense.

"The development is nearly complete. Two more weeks and the contracts are signed. Then what's your excuse?"

The same question Karen had asked. The one I still don't have a good answer for.

"I don't get involved with clients. It's a rule."

"Rules can be broken." His voice drops lower. "Sometimes they need to be broken… If it's a bad rule that doesn’t take your best interest to heart."

"Not my rules." I set my napkin on the table, needing to regain control of the situation. "I've worked too hard to build my reputation, my independence. I don't risk that for anyone. Especially people who have proven to be untrustworthy in the past."

Jeremy studies me for a long moment. Something akin to sadness crosses his features. Then he nods slowly. "I respect your boundaries, Gina. If that's truly how you feel, we'll keep this strictly professional until the development is complete." A pause, heavy with implication. "And then we'll revisit the conversation."

It's both a concession and a promise. One that sends a thrill of anticipation through me even as I try to tamp it down.

"Now," he says, all business suddenly, "shall we look at those plans?"

The abrupt shift catches me off guard. One minute seducing me with dark eyes and loaded words, the next discussing square footage and zoning regulations. The ease with which he moves between modes is unsettling.

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