“If that’s what you want, then sure. But you strike me as a man who likes to make his own decisions.”
I knew I’d said the right thing when his eyes lit with emotion. It was like I’d lured the unicorn into a clearing, and I was getting ready to spring the trap. I had just one more question, and I wondered if it would be a deal-breaker for him.
I took a deep breath. “How would you feel about having your home featured in an international design magazine?”
While I knew some clients would jump at the chance, others could be very private. I wasn’t sure where Hunter fell on the spectrum.
He reeked of money in his three-piece suit, but he also projected power, control, virility. “I might have to run it by my father first,” he said, surprising me.
I frowned. “Your father?”
He sighed, and it was laden with unspoken words. It seemed Hunter—like me—had a strained relationship with his father. Well, that wasn’t completely accurate. I had zero relationship with my father, and I didn’t intend to.
Hunter tilted his head to the side, assessing me. “You don’t know who my father is, do you?”
It felt like a test, and I wondered what the right answer was. So, I settled for the truth. “Should I?”
He seemed pleased, though I wasn’t sure why.
“Senator Daniel Pruitt. He recently announced his campaign for president.”
I tilted my head back, understanding dawning on me.Of course—Pruitt.Suddenly it made sense that his last name sounded familiar. Though, it didn’t matter to me. As long as the bills were paid on time, anyone could be my client. Provided you weren’t a complete asshole.
“Do you have any questions for me?” I asked.
“Can you tell me about your process and how you work?”
“Sure. Typically, I like to see the house, get a feel for what needs to be done. Then, I’ll work up a plan based on your tastes and goals. If we’re trying to figure out what some of those are, we can take a few shopping trips to determine what you like and don’t. From start to finish, I try to make the process as seamless as possible.”
I shifted, crossing my legs. “Your level of involvement is really up to you. Some clients just want to write the checks and see the finished product. Others are more hands-on, keeping tabs on the project every step of the way.”
He nodded, his eyes darkening as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Oh, I’d like to be a very hands-on client.”
I tried, but failed, to hide my grin. “I’m sure you would.”
His words from that night in the bar replayed in my mind, and I clenched my thighs to stem the growing ache. I wanted Hunter’s hands on my body, his lips on my skin. He licked his lips, and it felt as if he were reading my mind. In that moment, I wasn’t sure what I wanted more from him—the chance to explore his body or design his home.
