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CHAPTER ONE
BEFORE THE SWELTERING South Florida sun could climb too high in the clear sky and make her silk blouse cling to her body with sweat, Carmela Bravo hurried by the huge FOR SALE
sign planted in the front yard like a flag on the moon. Her own smiling face printed on the sign stared back at her as she passed.
With practiced ease, she punched her code into the lockbox and retrieved the key. It had been a few years since she’d hosted an open house, which she now outsourced to another agent in her o ce who used them to get new leads.
But on a whim, she’d decided to show the property herself.
And while she remembered how to run the open house, she’d forgotten how hot it could be in April.
Checking the time before slipping her phone back in her blazer pocket, Carmela arranged the exotic flowers in the vase on the foyer table before moving on. The catered spread on the granite kitchen counter was already waiting next to the stack of flyers with her picture on it. She adjusted each food tray so they were equidistant from each other and then straightened the stack of papers with the property’s information. Flipping the iPad around so all visitors could leave their contact info, she projected a positive energy for the day.
In a few minutes, prospective buyers would be flooding in. She hoped. With the time she had left, Carmela slipped into the guest bathroom and touched up her make up.
Pulling the brush from her bag, she fixed her thick, black hair and placed every straight, long strand where she wanted it. When the doorbell rang a few minutes early, Carmela had just enough time to reapply her nude lipstick, flu her hair one more time, and snap her gold-plated name tag onto the lapel of her blazer.
“Welcome,” she said, her wide smile beaming as she pushed open one of the glass double doors.
A couple who appeared to be in their late sixties smiled in return. “We’re here for the open house,” the man explained unnecessarily.
“Of course,” Carmela replied warmly. “Come right in.”
As they stepped into the foyer, a tall brunette jogged up the stone steps behind them.
“Just in time. Your parents are just ahead,” Carmela said as the woman, dressed in tight jeans and a loose knit tank top, approached.
“Thanks,” the young woman replied as she stepped inside. “It’s so nice and cool in here,” she added, sliding her dark sunglasses from her face to the top of her head. “The AC must be new.”
The moment she exposed her eyes, Carmela was transfixed and only peripherally aware that the woman was still speaking. They weren’t exactly light blue, but almost a bright, gray.
“Your parents went straight for the kitchen,” Carmela managed when she regained her senses.
Judging by the couple’s interest in the cheese plate and disregard for their surroundings, they’d likely already found what they were looking for. Carmela shook her head; lookie-
loos were a big part of real estate. She should’ve known by looking at them they weren’t seriously interested in the house. A sprawling four bedroom with a guest house and a high-maintenance walk-in saltwater pool was too much for a couple of empty nesters. They’d probably ridden with their daughter for financial support.
“Are these the original dade pine floors?” the young woman asked as she poked at it with her sandaled foot.
Carmela grinned, impressed at her identification of the extinct wood. “They are,” she replied, crossing the foyer to follow the brunette. “You have a great eye.”
The woman turned around, holding her in her striking gray gaze. “Thanks. My parents are contractors.”
Glancing over her shoulder before following the brunette into the hallway leading to the master bedroom, Carmela furrowed her brow. The pair helping themselves to the free food and small bottles of sparkling water packed into a bowl full of ice didn’t look like contractors.
The bedroom, a bright, airy room larger than Carmela’s first real apartment, was one of the house’s best features.
With the woman looking out the window, Carmela admired the smooth, toned skin of her mostly exposed back. Her suntanned skin gave way to pale lines painted in a crisscross on her back. Evidence of a good time spent in the sun. The image of the woman, her long, lean body in a bathing suit, flashed in her mind without Carmela’s consent.
“Is this an addition?” the woman asked, her eyes tracking the exposed beams in the slanted ceiling.
Carmela nodded when the woman’s attention returned to her. She hoped the warmth on her cheeks wasn’t noticeable, or that the woman wasn’t a mind reader. For a moment, she just looked at her, then began to slowly saunter toward her.
Carmela swallowed to return the moisture to her mouth, wishing the young woman wasn’t so unnervingly attractive.
“It’s beautifully done,” she said, her voice low and her stare piercing.
“The homeowners have put a lot of e ort into it,” she replied, knowing she should step back. They were too close to each other. How would it look if someone wandered into the room and saw them standing less than a foot apart? Her high heels didn’t budge despite her brain’s commands.
“They have restored what they could and renovated what the couldn’t,” she explained, her voice too husky.
The woman’s full lips spread into a slow, devastating smile. From her proximity, Carmela could smell the sweet fragrance of her perfume. She recognized the expensive scent immediately. There was no way someone so young could be interested in the house for herself. She couldn’t possibly a ord it, but maybe that’s why she’d brought her parents.
Who the hell are you and where did you come from?
The woman licked her lips as her gaze flashed to Carmela’s mouth before quickly returning to her eyes. If she hadn’t already been lightly perspiring, the look alone would have made her blouse cling to the small of her back.
“What’s the absolute best thing you have to show?” she asked in a voice so low it was nearly a whisper.
Is she seriously flirting with me?
Carmela smiled, willing herself back to a more professional distance. “The pool is a must see,” she
said before clearing her throat. “Do you want to grab your parents?” she asked before pointing out the master bedroom and closet before they returned to the main part of the house.
Instead of responding, the woman walked next to her, her eyes capturing every inch of the house as they moved toward the back. Carmela struggled not to steal glances at her from the corner of her eye.
After a tour of the rest of the first floor, Carmela led her out to the backyard. “Mature palm trees o er just enough shade to enjoy the pool,” she said as she allowed the woman to step through the French doors ahead of her. “You’ve got a full outdoor kitchen in the covered space and an ivy wrapped pergola leading to the guest house.”
“This pool is amazing,” she commented, zeroing in on the showstopper.
“They spent a pretty penny making it a walk-in and converting it to saltwater,” Carmela replied as they stepped out into the sun to get a closer view. She didn’t usually emerge from the shade but couldn’t help wanting to stay close to this woman.
