Hot Property (4 page)

Standing on the threshold of another
encounter with Skylar Blakewood twisted her nerves in knots.

Stop procrastinating woman and get on with
it, an inner voice ordered.

Betsy threw back her shoulders and burst
inside to be blasted with the refreshing coolness of the central
air conditioning. It took a few moments for her body to adjust to
the sudden change in temperature and she forged onward to the
reception desk.

When clearing her throat out loud didn’t get
the young woman to look up from the paperback book she had her nose
in, Betsy tried again using her voice. “Excuse me. I’m here to see
Mr. Blakewood.”

The woman’s pale complexion shaded pink.
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Blakewood isn’t in right now.”

“He has to be. I saw old Betsy in the
parking lot.”

She wrinkled her brow and gazed at Betsy as
if she were crazy. “All I know, Miss, is Mr. Blakewood left earlier
for a meeting at the bank. I don’t know anything about an old
Betsy.”

“Miss Alexander was making reference to my
truck, Crystal.”

“Skylar!” Crystal gasped and her cheeks
glowed pink. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“I came in the rear entrance a little while
ago.”

Betsy stood in total silence. She heard the
conversation between the two from a distance because of what was
taking place inside her.

From the moment she heard that deep voice
and saw him framed in the office doorway, her insides began acting
up again. The man looked positively stunning in the chocolate
colored suit and matching brown tie he was twisting loose from the
beige shirt he wore.

“It feels like the air conditioning just
went on the blink,” he declared as he pulled off his jacket.

“I think it’s chilly in here,” Crystal
said.

“You better check with maintenance
anyway.”

Betsy watched the model thin young woman
reach for the telephone, but continued to feel his powerful
presence. And the sparks zapped deep within her, igniting a fire of
comforting warmth when his voice came to her.

“Forgive me, Miss Alexander. Come on into my
office.” He slung his jacket over a shoulder and motioned for her
to come his way with his free hand.

In spite of her legs turning to jelly, Betsy
advanced toward him. Her breath caught in her throat when her arm
brushed against his on her way inside the room.

Betsy couldn’t help but notice the cluster
of sweat beads that had formed above his upper lip. Once again he
twisted at his tie as he moved out around her and stopped behind
his clutter free glass desk top.

“Since we’re going to be working together, I
suggest we drop the formal stuff and call each other by first
name.” His words came out in one quick breath as he flung his
jacket haphazardly over the back of his desk chair before sitting
in it.

“The working together part is why I’m here.”
Betsy felt herself jump from the unexpected sound of her own voice.
But now that she remembered she had one she wasn’t about to stop
until she said it all. “After closely evaluating our previous
encounters, Mr. Blakewood, I feel it would be in the best interest
of all parties to decline your offer of representation.”

Skylar leaned forward. His voice came at her
with that same coolness that had riled her before. “For one thing,
Miss Alexander, you can’t afford not taking me on as a client.” He
kicked back in his chair, appearing more relaxed and even a bit
amused. “Secondly, you managed to convince me you have the
determination and persistence required to get the job done.”

Betsy was prepared to tell him her financial
affairs were none of his business until his last statement quite
literally swept her off her feet and she dropped on one of the high
back chocolate colored leather chairs in front of his desk.

“I’m sorry for my behavior on our two
previous meetings. I was downright rude from the start.”

Betsy saw those light blue eyes flash with
sincerity before darkening.

“Perhaps what I did was unforgivable. But I
had to test you, Betsy. My homes deserve every penny of their high
price tags. It is important the agency I choose to represent them
understands that, as well as who pays their commission.”

“I’ve always tried to get the seller his
asking price. And I’m well aware of who pays me, Mr.
Blakewood.”

He snickered. “You made that quite clear at
the open house the other day. But I needed to know you weren’t one
of those agents who tell buyers the seller will take less than the
asking price.”

“I could lose my license if I did that.”

“That doesn’t seem to enter every Realtor’s
mind when he’s trying to put together a deal.”

Betsy couldn’t argue with the man. For the
first time she had to concede and agree with him. The real estate
business was no different than any other business. There are always
those few who regard the almighty dollar as their boss.

“Suppose I was to forgive you for your
downright rudeness. Would you be signing on with our agency to sell
all forty homes?”

Skylar chuckled. “I have to confess. I
wasn’t thinking too clearly when I told you there would be forty
homes instead of twenty.”

So his childish temper tantrum had been real
yesterday. Maybe the man was the arrogant, rude and self-centered
person she had encountered right from the start.

“But when you mentioned wasting valuable
building land on Christmas trees--”

“I don’t see a hillside coming alive in a
splendor of greenery and smelling of pine a waste. Never mind the
shelter those trees would provide to our wildlife. Need I continue,
Mr. Blakewood?”

Skylar slouched in his seat. “I’d say you
made your point, Miss Alexander.”

If his humble tone was a true indicator,
Betsy felt she’d managed to quell any thoughts he might have about
making another statement in regard to her idea being a waste.

It became Betsy’s turn to shrink a little as
Skylar worked his large frame upward and sat tall.

“I think a compromise is in order here,
Betsy. I’m willing to consider adding a few trees to my plans if
you’re willing to take me on as a client for six months.”

“Six months!” Betsy repeated, confused.

“I will have the first house completed by
then. Hopefully you will be able to tell me it’s sold.” He paused
briefly. “I’m also willing to pay you seven percent of the selling
price instead of your usual six.”

Betsy didn’t need time to think. Sometime
during the night she’d come to accept the fact that she’d lost the
land. It might take a while, but she’d find another magnificent
hill on which to build her dream house. In the meantime, she’d have
a chance to work at adding to her near depleted bank account. But
she was having an extremely difficult time saying yes to Skylar
Blakewood’s generous offer.

Suddenly, as if someone else slipped inside
her body and called the shots, she found herself standing and
extending her hand across the desk. “You have yourself a deal,
Skylar.”

When he grasped hold of her hand to seal the
deal with a gentleman’s handshake, a hot tingling sensation raced
from the tips of her fingers to the tips of her toes. She sensed
Skylar felt it too by his sudden starry-eyed look. But the way he
snapped his hand back and began moving around his desk to the door
proved her theory wrong.

He opened the solid wood door and in an
uneven voice said, “I’ll get a copy of the house plans to you in a
couple of days.”

“That should be helpful in stirring up
interest in some of my buyers.” Betsy heard some unevenness in her
own voice as she moved toward the door. Toward the intoxicating
scent of him that had temporarily weakened when he moved away from
his desk.

“I was hoping I’d find you here.”

The familiar high-pitched voice sent an icy
chill through Betsy. She didn’t have to crane her neck around as
Skylar had done to see who the voice belonged to.

“Stephanie.” Skylar smiled, almost blushed
when Stephanie Rogers pressed her tall lean body against him and
kissed his cheek.

Betsy wanted to turn her head away. The
sight of the two of them upset her stomach. She saw the imprint of
lip gloss Stephanie left on his cheek when she slowly pulled back
her face. When she cuddled up to him, Betsy thought she might
really be sick.

With luck, Betsy hoped she could slip out
around them without being noticed. But the realistic side of her
warned they were taking up too much of the doorway for her to pull
it off. She ignored the warning.

Flattening her back against the door frame,
she squeezed through. The sound of Skylar’s voice let her know she
wasn’t home free even though her fierce strides had put her near
the front door when he called out.

“Where’s the fire?”

“I’m late for an appointment,” Betsy shouted
so she wouldn’t have to look back.

She went out the door and crashed into a
wall of heat that took her breath away, temporarily immobilizing
her. Of course her state had to be the result of the sudden impact
of heat. She refused to consider leftover emotions from the scene
inside had anything to do with her suffocating feeling.

It took a few minutes before she found
herself buckled up inside her car and driving toward her office.
There wasn’t a doubt in her mind Mary would be relieved when she
told her she’d taken Skylar on as a client. Especially after she’d
told her less than an hour earlier she wasn’t going to. Mary said
she understood. But Betsy didn’t see how she could possibly
understand the way this man made her body come alive in such a
magical way whenever he got near her.

“You look hard at it,” Betsy commented as
she entered the building and dropped in a chair near Mary’s
desk.

Without glancing up from the paperwork she
had in front of her, Mary spoke. “I’m working on a profit and loss
statement for you to take along to your meeting at the bank this
afternoon.”

With all the emotional turmoil she’d
experienced in such a short time, Betsy had completely forgotten
she’d promised Mary she’d meet with the loan officer at the bank.
Or that she’d somehow convince the man to give them an extension on
the twelfth month stipulation written into their loan agreement.
But things certainly had changed since she made that promise. Now
that she’d committed herself to taking Skylar on as a client, the
banker wouldn’t need much convincing.

“Finished,” Mary suddenly blurted, then
handed the sheet of paper to Betsy. “Now that I’ve taken a closer
look I’m happy to report we aren’t in that bad a shape.”

Betsy scanned the double column rows of
numbers on the one side of the paper. “In black and white you
hardly notice all the red spots.”

“That’s nothing to joke about, Betsy.
Seriously though, those figures aren’t bad considering the slump
the market’s been in. But to a banker--”

Betsy knew if she allowed the woman to get
herself all worked up she’d have another one of those ulcer attacks
she’d been suffering with since they became business partners.

“Calm down, Mary. The bank isn’t going to
even care about those figures once I mention we’ve taken on Skylar
Blakewood as a client.”

“But I thought--”

“Can’t a girl change her mind? Besides, it’s
a little hard to say no to a seven percent commission.”

“You’re kidding?”

Betsy smiled as she gave a nod.

“This calls for a celebration.”

Betsy watched the happy woman reach for the
phone. “Who are you calling?”

“Ordering a pizza smothered in pepperoni.
That still is your favorite too, isn’t it?”

Betsy chuckled. “You know it is.” Then she
remembered. “What about your ulcer?”

“It loves pizza. And it’s my treat too.”

***

Betsy put the closed sign in the front
window and locked the door behind the delivery boy. The two women
headed up to Betsy’s office where they spent a good part of the
next hour talking about anything that popped into their heads,
while they polished off the entire pizza.

It was almost five o’clock when Betsy
finished at the bank and started off on foot for the office. She
couldn’t allow the ninety degree temperature and high humidity to
slow her down on the two block walk. Not only had Mary gotten into
the habit of leaving the office at five on the dot, Betsy knew
she’d be chewing her fingernails off to the skin until she heard
the outcome of her meeting.

Betsy put on her biggest smile as she burst
in the door. “You can stop biting your nails. We got the
extension.”

Before Betsy could continue, Mary started
waving her hand in the air to silence her. “Skylar Blakewood’s
waiting for you in your office,” Mary whispered, while Betsy leaned
over the desk so she could hear her.

The sudden rise in Betsy’s body temperature
had nothing to do with the weather. She’d left that heat outside on
the doorstep. And even though she wouldn’t admit it to a soul, she
was certain the hot waves washing through her had to do with
hearing his name and knowing he was nearby.

Somehow, she managed to whisper back to
Mary. “What’s he doing here?”

Mary shrugged her slender shoulders, stood,
grabbed her purse and started for the front door. “See you
tomorrow,” came out in a normal tone. So did her, “They’re all
still there too,” as she waved her fingernails in front of Betsy
seconds before she pulled the door shut behind her.

Betsy stood still while she watched Mary
through the front window until she disappeared inside her
economy-sized car. She remained standing there, statue-like when
the sound of his voice came to her from behind.

“We’re alone again.”

Chapter Four

Betsy attempted to steady her breathing and
quiet her stomach that turned a somersault at the sound of his
seductive voice.