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“Was it worth the trip up here?” My question sounded breathless and giddy. The ride had my adrenaline flowing, and my six-foot rule wasn’t having the calming effect I’d hoped for. I braved a look at him and saw the same wildness in his eyes.
I could have sunk into the velvety brown of his gaze and forgotten about selling him a property. Let desire reign and make epic bad choices. Yes, my body cried. Let’s do that.
“Absolutely.” He turned again, taking it all in, and chuckled. “I’d get to buy an entire mountain.”
He loved it. With a jolt of ambition, my real estate brain kicked my hormonal teenage self in the ass and took control.
“Yeah, I thought you might like that idea.”
“I’m that arrogant?” A mix of surprise and something else wrinkled his forehead and dampened the glow in his eyes.
“No, not arrogant, but you are a billionaire.” Call a spade a spade, my grandma always said. “There’s a certain master of the universe vibe you have going on sometimes. I thought an entire mountain and unparalleled deep river access might appeal. You could even build a new house up here.”
“Share this view with other people? Hell no. Luxury hermit cabin.” He pointed to a flat area to our left that would be the right size for a small cabin.
“No internet. No neighbors.” I used my most alluring voice, pumping it full of the promise of solitude. I could adapt to a client’s changing requests. He wanted alone time and a view. Done. And done.
“Tempting.” He paced off the flat spot where the cabin could fit.
I could almost hear the gears turning in his head. The size of the property weighed against the drab house that needed work.
“Take your time. We still have the guesthouse to see when we get back down to the bottom.”
His back was to me, and he stared out over the river, his hands stuffed into the front pockets of his designer jeans. I took the opportunity to check out his ass. Good, but better in the vintage Wranglers that Stephen put him in for TV. The people at Wrangler knew how to showcase a man’s ass in a way no designer in New York, Italy, or France had ever replicated.
“You are giving me all kinds of ideas.”
I jerked my gaze up. Was he talking about real estate?
“That is my job.” I forced a bright, harmless, non-sexy smile. It probably looked demented. Time to get this show on the road and go see the guesthouse. I headed for the ATV, flipped my leg over, and twisted the key.
Click. Click.
No. Please, no.
I tried the ignition again. Nothing. This was not happening. I fiddled with the controls, trying both the gas and the clutch.
Desperate, I even squeezed the brakes before trying the ignition one more time.
Shit.
“Dead?” He put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed.
I didn’t need sympathy, not from him. He was my client. Not a friend, and not a lover. I was supposed to be a professional, wowing him with my real estate acumen, not getting us stranded at the top of a mountain or hill. Whatever.
“Yeah. Dead as a doornail.” I longed to put my head down on the handlebars and cry for a solid ten minutes. Then I’d be in the right frame of mind to deal with the situation, but as all moms know, what you want and what you get are two different things. Tears would have to wait until I got home, had a glass of wine, and could curl up on the floor under the spray of a hot shower in private.
“Well, shit.” He kicked the ATV tire with his new boot.
His boots and mine were slick-soled cowboy boots, and the trail up here was steep and rocky. Walking out would be ill-advised. The trail would be a challenging hike, properly shod. I didn’t want to risk blisters or twisted ankles for either of us. We were shooting the second house for Vacation Dream Homes the day after tomorrow. Showing up to shoot with a limp or, God forbid, a cast would guarantee a death sentence from Kate.
I forced another demented but reassuring smile and reached for my cell. We needed a rescue.
“Let me think.”
Rescue sounded so melodramatic; what we required was a ride. I scrolled through the contacts on my phone, despising the simple answer. I hesitated before relenting and clicking my brother’s name.
“Cami, is this important?” He didn’t bother with a greeting. In the background, I heard traffic noise and shouting. I closed my eyes for a moment, hating that I had to interrupt his day with a request.
