The downstairs had an open-plan format with a large kitchen. Apart from a few pieces I’d brought from my apartment, it was bare. I’d been too busy with work, too busy traveling between LA and New York to consider things like furniture or curtains. Besides, I wouldn’t even know where to start. Which was why I’d hired a professional.
Lauren glanced toward the tall ceilings, turning her attention to the kitchen, then the floors. She couldn’t stop looking at my house, and I couldn’t stop looking at her. The way she pulled her lower lip into her mouth when she was concentrating. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear before glancing down at her tablet to make some notes. The way the tips of her fingers danced across the screen as she typed.
“You picked a beautiful property,” she said, barely glancing at me.
It was the first time I’d really shown it to anyone, and I prided myself on the fact that I had bought this. I hadn’t used my parents’ money, nor had I dipped into my trust fund. This house was purchased with money I’dearned. And being able to show off something I’d worked for, something I’d acquired through my own efforts, felt more satisfying than I’d expected.
“Can you hold this?” She handed me the end of a tape measure.
I took it from her, grinning when she stuck her stylus pen behind her ear. Without her heels, she was even shorter than I’d realized. The top of her head didn’t clear my shoulders.
She tilted her head, glancing up at me. “What?”
“You’re cute like this.”
“Cute?” She jerked her head back. “I’m not sure any woman should be referred to as cute after the age of ten.”
I lifted a shoulder, watching as she backed away, tape measure in hand. It kept us tethered together, and that’s how it felt when I was around her. Like there was an invisible tape measure stretching between us, holding us together even when we were on opposite sides of the room.
She took a few measurements and noted them on her tablet. Every so often, she’d hum to herself, and I wondered if she realized she was doing it. She was in the zone, and I tried to imagine what she was envisioning as she toured my home. I saw mostly blank walls and bland tile floors, but I had a feeling she saw so much more.
“Are you ever going to tell me why you keep calling me a tiger, tigress? At least, that’s what I assumema tigressemeans.”
“Maybe,” I said, surprised she’d brought it up. Clearly, her mind was focused on more than just design. And that idea gave me hope.
We’d climbed the stairs to the office, and there were only a few rooms left. I still wasn’t ready for her to go, and I’d saved the best for last—the master bedroom. It had a large private balcony with a phenomenal view.
I stalked closer, twirling a tendril of her hair around my finger. She sucked in a sharp breath, and it only confirmed what I already knew—she wanted me just as much as I wanted her.
“You want to know why I call youma tigresse?” I leaned in, intent to close the distance and kiss her.
She licked her lips, her eyes darting between my eyes and my lips. But then, just as suddenly, she backed away, patting my chest. “Actually, I’d rather know what you’re going to do with all these bedrooms.”
She sauntered down the hall toward one of them. I let out a huff, unable to hold back a smile as I remained behind to adjust myself.Damn, this woman was such a tease.
“So,” she said when I rejoined her in one of the empty rooms. “What is your plan for all these rooms?”
I leaned against the doorjamb, my eyes glued to her perfectly round ass as she bent over to inspect something. “I’m not sure. Do you have any suggestions?”
“So, you’ll have the master and an office.” She stood, acting as if the moment in the office had never happened.
I nodded, tracking her every move. She may bema tigresse—elusive, difficult to catch—but I was patient. I could wait.
“Would you like one of them to be a guest room?” she asked.
“Yeah. That’s probably a good idea. Then my friends or Kate won’t have to crash on the couch.”
When I’d bought the house, I’d hoped Kate would move in with me—it was part of the reason I’d selected such a large home. After the fire, I’d been even more protective of her. But she’d insisted on getting her own place and letting me have mine. Which was probably for the best, even if my home did feel a bit empty without her and Preston around all the time.
Lauren nodded, adding some notes in her tablet. “No pets. Any hobbies?”
“Does work count?”
She laughed. “No, but I’d probably have a similar answer.”
“Hmm. Let’s see.” I tapped my lips. “Hobbies. Hobbies. Does sex count?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Unfortunately,” I thought I heard her add. “I wish it counted as exercise.”
