sister’s wedding, the last time he’d seen her and his brother, Paul, on leave from his outfit in Afghanistan. He flipped on the sound system, and pulled a chair onto the balcony to watch the moon ascend over Lake Geneva.
Olivia, Livvy . How long will it take for me to get to know you better? In spite of his earlier misgivings after the Heidi debacle, he was enchanted by the standoffish realtor and eager to explore a personal relationship with her. Was it because he was chasing her and not the other way around, Heidi-like? His father had once told him the most greatest rewards came from the greatest challenges. He chuckled. Olivia seemed to fit the bill. A challenge, anyway, and he suspected she might also be the kind of woman he needed. Too bad he didn’t have a grandmother who thought like Mr. Robert Brown, someone wanting the best kind of woman for her grandson, Beau.
He ’d considered the merits of securing a buyer’s agent before going to that open house and then decided he’d learn more if he approached the listing agent directly. He hadn’t expected to be so attracted to Olivia Brown, whom he suspected drew a line between a business acquaintance and a personal relationship. I’ll just have to work around it, and the fact that I’m not the buyer she was looking for. Olivia was a challenge, in more ways than one, but he’d never shied away from a contest of wills. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to confuse the business issue with the desire he felt for her.
An hour after he arrived home and sometime after he closed his eyes for a brief postprandial snooze, pounding on the door of his condo roused him from his chair. He opened the door.
Olivia’s long red curls were tousled, as if she’d fallen into bed and then climbed out again without brushing her hair into submission. Tousled like he would like to do, given half the chance. She was no longer in her business suit. Instead, she wore a pair of jeans with a rip across one knee, and a University of Washington sweatshirt that must have been washed many times. Maybe that explained its tired lilac-gray patina. No bra by the look of things. And she was in flip-flops that showed off her red-topped toenails.
“Olivia.”
She stepped inside before he could say more or prevent her from entering, not that he wanted to.
She momentarily listed slightly to one side as if she was going to fall over. He reached out to prevent her from doing so. “Something I can do for you?” Ideas immediately came to mind, but he mentally swatted them away.
“My briefcase. You have it. I want it. Now.” Her eyes snapped. “And my coat.”
“Your briefcase and coat? You had them at the restaurant.” He looked around. “I don’t recall bringing them home …” Then he remembered. “Oh. Just a minute.” He left her standing at the door and headed for the kitchen alcove, to the wall hanger where he always placed his keys. Just as he turned around to face her, she bumped into him, a full-body bump from her chest to her knees, and then she bounced off and started to fall sideways.
His arms reached out to pull her upright. Before he quite knew how he managed it, his head went down and met hers as it was coming up. Their lips met in the middle, and a zing of heat flooded his body. Zounds!
Her eyes widened, and she pulled abruptly away from him, bounced into the wall behind her and ricocheted forward in his direction again. This time, he was ready and when her arms came up, he couldn’t tell and didn’t care if she was trying to fend him off or grab for him. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her again, longer this time. Within seconds, she was kissing him back. He savored the taste of her, detecting peppermint and some other flavor he couldn’t quite place that was equally as pleasant. He relished the feel of her, how his body was reacting, and how very much he wanted to continue his exploration of her mouth. Zoning be damned. She was hot and generating similar flames
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