“So,Lauren.”
I’d nearly bumped into him, he was standing so close. Instinctively, I took a step back but met with the door. I peered up at him, admiring those blue-gray eyes that were so unique. They reminded me of one of my favorite shades of paint—soothing but also inviting. The perfect color.
“Yes,Hunter.”
In the weeks since I’d last seen him, I hadn’t forgotten how hot he was. This was just the first time I could take him in without distraction. There were no pregnancy tests or grieving friends, no rowdy drinkers at a club.
He leaned in as if to kiss me. My eyes fluttered closed briefly, and just when I thought he was going to press those full lips to mine, he backed away.What the…?
My heart thudded in my chest, but I straightened, walking over to the desk as if I were completely unaffected. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what he was doing. He wanted to pretend to be professional after the filthy words he’d spoken earlier? Two could play at that game.
I leaned my hip against the desk, wondering if he was really here for his house or if it was all just a pretense. I got the distinct impression that he was a man used to getting his way. And I’d been slightly surprised—not to mention, disappointed—when he’d let me walk away so easily that night at the bar.
I’d half hoped he’d come after me. Which was silly, really. But I’d wanted him to want me badly enough to push the issue. I wanted to know he’d do whatever it took to persuade me to give him my name and number. Not that it would’ve taken much to get them out of me.
But here he was, sitting in my office, his eyes trained on my skirt that had risen to midthigh. I didn’t bother to adjust it. Let him look. I liked it. And even though I’d played this game countless times before, it felt different somehow with him.
“So.” I crossed my arms over my chest, ready to test him and his intentions. “Tell me about your house.”
“It’s a little over three-thousand square feet, nestled in the Hills. New construction, modern, very white.” His lip curled with distaste.
I laughed. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Not bad. Just…a little cold for my tastes.”
“Got it,” I said, grabbing my tablet off my desk to take notes.
Rita had already started a file for Hunter, and I couldn’t wait to see what else was in there. I was thorough when it came to my clients—I took meticulous notes, I watched their facial expressions closely when presenting them with any fabric, paint color, or other idea. And I worked tirelessly to ensure they were pleased with the final product.
“What are you looking for—decoration, furnishing? Or are you looking to have some remodeling done—countertops or fixtures changed?”
“Any of the above,” he said. “Honestly, though, the house is nice. Solid construction. It’s just a little cold, a little boring.”
“Got it,” I said, curious to see the place. “Probably mostly furniture, maybe some paint or detailing added. Entire house?”
“Yes. And the outdoor space around the pool.”
“Perfect.” This was getting better and better. “Ideal timeline and budget?”
“I’d like to have the project completed before Christmas. And money’s no object.”
No object.My brain repeated those two words on a loop. I’d only ever had a client say that to me once before. He was a prince of an obscure European country I’d never heard of.
“I understand,” I said, attempting to compose myself.
Seeing the numbers on a page was different from hearing those words. And I wondered if my dream client had just landed in my lap. Could I really be so lucky? Was Hunter my unicorn?
I ran a hand through my hair. “Surely you have some goals, a design aesthetic you’re looking for?”
I knew it was likely too good to be true. There had to be a catch. There was almost always a catch.
Maybe he had terrible taste. Maybe he was a micromanager, the type of client who dictated everything and was rarely satisfied. Maybe he…
He shook his head. “Isn’t that your job—to tell me what I should or shouldn’t like?”
I furrowed my brow, surprised by his answer. “My job is to help you achieve the look you want and to make your house feel like a home. And if you don’t know what your style is, then I’ll help you find it.”
“I just figured you’d tell me what was on trend, and that’s what we’d go with.” He leaned back, resting an ankle on his knee.
