Kissing Keith: A Billionaire Younger Man Romance (Rose City Romance Book 1)

by Lucy Robin

  “Apparently, although he’s a widow with four kids, he’s still a desirable mate.” I told them about the waitlist.

  Bella snickers. “It’s true. A customer told me about him and asked whether I was interested.”

  “What did you say?” I ask.

  She hesitates for a moment. “I was interested, and I let her snap a photo of me. She came back a week later, telling me the guy preferred someone with smaller breasts because of what happened to his ex-wife.”

  Audrey and I gasp simultaneously. “He didn’t say that!”

  Bella shrugged. “Probably not in the exact wording, but that was what I gathered from the customer’s subtle language.”

  We burst into a giggle incredulously, and then we all hush at the same time. Their eyes fall on my chest, as if to gauge the chance of my success. I’m probably a cup or two smaller than Bella, but still not small. I feel defeated already.

  They try to cheer me up right away.

  “Come on. You aren’t that big.” Audrey says.

  “He probably used it as an excuse,” Bella says. “I guess he doesn’t like me for other reasons. I didn’t even go to college, and I have a bakery to take care of. His youngest is still a child, you know?”

  In any event, it’s too late to cancel our shopping plan, so I nod and let Audrey push me out of the bakery.

  We leave Audrey’s car at the bakery parking lot, and I drive us toward Old Town. On our way, I tell Audrey about Keith.

  “You won’t believe what happened,” I say to her. “Remember the guy you saw at the open house the other day?”

  She blinks. “The hunk who saved my boy from the pool? What about him?”

  “He’s the jerk who kissed me at the party twelve years ago.”

  Audrey blinks again for several seconds. “That spoiled kid who pretended to be a grown-up and seduced you?”

  “Yep.” I sigh. “Can you believe it? And he’s my boss now.”

  She gasps. “You’re kidding!”

  “I wish I were,” I say with a shake of my head. “And the asshole refuses to let me quit, not that I need his permission.”

  I relate to Audrey the whole story, including the commission deal Keith proposed but skipping the fact I nearly melted when he held me by the waist.

  “Jeez. What’re you going to do?” she asks, frowning.

  “I have no idea,” I say. Prior to my conversation with Keith this morning, my mind was all set to quit, but I’m not sure anymore. 90/10 split on the commission is too tempting. Besides, the Roseville townhomes community is also a rare opportunity that happens to an agent once in a lifetime. It might not be difficult for me to find another broker, but then I’ll need to start all over again.

  Audrey places a sympathetic hand on my arm. “Perhaps it’s better for you to stay. If you quit, you don’t know what kind of boss to expect next.”

  I marvel at the wisdom in her words, considering Audrey has had only one boss in her entire life. I guess it’s common sense.

  “I’ll see how it goes,” I say, postponing a decision.

  We parked our car on a side street and walked to the shops on Colorado, passing Brook’s Real Estate office. I take a quick glance through the windows. I can’t see much because they’re all tinted, but its parking lot is nearly empty. I’m not surprised because I’ve done research online and found out they haven’t made many sales in recent years. But I’m puzzled now because it should be related to Kelly Group, which is doing well, right?

  The back door of the building suddenly swings open as I’m still looking, and a redhead stands in the doorway, accompanied by a tall, middle-aged man. It doesn’t take me long to recognize them both: Tiffany and Mike Brook, my previous boss, the father of my current boss. Mike has his hands on Tiffany’s shoulders as they speak. I avert my eyes quickly, not wanting to draw their attention. But the image stays in my mind for a few seconds. Jeez. Mike hasn’t changed. Still the philanderer. And then I start to wonder, what’s Tiffany’s relationship with Keith? I thought they were together. Maybe I was wrong about them. Why am I feeling good about this realization? What does it have anything to do with me? I chide myself and switch my thoughts back to reality.

  At the Banana Republic, I let Audrey convince me to try on a sapphire dress that flatters my waist and covers most of my boobs because of our recent discovery about Giovanni’s concern. I also have my eyes on a pair of silver high-heel sandals with ankle straps that match the dress. Audrey gets herself some sexy blouses and skirts for a change because I always make fun of her mom outfit—baggy t-shirt and shorts. We walk out of the shop, carrying shopping bags on both arms.

  Chapter 8

  Keith

  I whistle when I enter Roseville Estate, a newly built, gated home community. It’s located at the foothills of San Gabriel Mountains. Even when I’m driving on Roseville Ln, I’m stunned by the breath-taking mountain view surrounding the estate.

  I’ve made an appointment with the estate developer, Ricardo Rizzo, who’s interested in contracting a broker to sell these homes.

  I arrive fifteen minutes earlier than the appointment time in order to look around a bit. I park in front of the property management office and step out of my car. The fifty-acre community is built on hilly terrain, with houses on top and townhomes on a lower elevation. Dense forests skirt the property, and lush green lawns spread out in front of the new houses with white walls and red roofs.

  “Like what you see?” a strong tenor voice startles me from behind, and I turn with a jerk.

  A middle-aged man, tall and big, with receding hairline and soft brown eyes, smiles at me warmly.

  Guessing he’s the person I’m here to see, I hold out my hand a bit nervously. “Hi, I’m Keith Kelly.”

  “I’m Ricky Rizzo, the developer of the property,” the man says as he shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Rizzo.” I’m glad I arrived early because other than making a good impression, it means I get extra time to speak to the developer.

  “Call me Ricky.”

  His avuncular manner puts me at ease, and I start to ask him questions about the estate. He explains to me that he acquired the property more than ten years ago, but the project took longer than expected because of its proximity to the national forest, and they had to go through some legal procedures.

  “Everything’s been cleared now. No worries.” He assures me.

  “Thanks for letting me know,” I say. The troubles they went through are well known in the region, but I appreciate his honesty.

  “I’ve heard good things about you. I’ve looked at your company’s profile, and I’m impressed by it, considering how little time it took you to become a top ten real estate company in San Gabriel Valley.”

  I thank him for his compliment.

  Two more brokers arrive, and we follow Ricky into the office. Ricky’s assistant Linda hands us brochures with details about the estate, including the floor plan of each model and the garden design of each block.

  There’s supposed to be one more broker coming, but since it’s already five minutes past ten, our appointment time, Ricky decides to start without him.

  “First of all, thank you all for coming,” he says. “As you know, many agents and brokers are interested in working for us, and they’ve been calling since the start of the project nearly ten years ago. After lots of research and consideration, I and my partner Edward, who’s unfortunately not here today, decide to meet with four companies that have the most potentials and the most reliable…”

  He’s cut short by the opening of the door, and I suck in a breath when I see my dad walk in.

  Shit. Although I’ve cut all my ties with him, I still feel embarrassed seeing him late for his appointment, especially Ricky was just saying he thought us reliable. Mike was never on time with family gatherings, but I didn’t know his habit of tardiness extended to business, too. Well, I think of the positive side. Maybe now I have one less competitor.


  But my dad doesn’t seem to care. He waves his hand nonchalantly. “Hey, Ricky! How’s it going?”

  Ricky good-naturedly invites him to sit down.

  I resist the urge to acknowledge my dad even though he’s only two seats away from me. I avoid looking at his direction, pretending not to see him at all.

  Linda places her laptop computer on the center of the table and shows ups a comprehensive virtual tour before taking us to see the model homes.

  While looking at the slideshow of the home interiors, my mind can’t stop reeling. I’m surprised that Ricky selected dad’s company because, as far as I know, Brook’s isn’t doing well in recent years, partly because I’ve been stealing his clients, and partly because he hasn’t been doing a good job recruiting and training agents. I guess I underestimated his reputation. Now that I know my dad also wants the deal, I’m even more eager to get it.

  I try to keep a distance from my dad during the viewing of the model homes, but he approaches me. “Keith, my boy! What a surprise to see you!”

  “Hi, Dad,” I say without a smile. “Good to see you, too.”

  “So, does Kelly Group still exist? I heard that Prestige acquired it.”

  I repress my anger. I’m used to my dad deriding me. “It’s the other way, Dad,” I say to him. “Kelly acquired Prestige.”

  “Oh!” He looks genuinely surprised now. “Good to know you’re surviving, then.”

  I’m about to turn away when Ricky appears between us, and he asks me, “Did you just call him Dad?”

  “Yes,” I say, doing my best not to show the hatred I hold for my dad. “Mike Brook is my dad.”

  Ricky thinks for a moment, looking between my dad and me. “I can definitely see a resemblance,” he says as if finding it hard to believe. “But I thought your last name was Kelly.”

  “That’s his middle name,” my dad volunteers the answer.

  “It’s my mom’s last name,” I correct him. “And I named by the company in memory of her.”

  Ricky raises an eyebrow. He probably guesses the rest of my relationship with my dad or has the grace not to inquire further despite his curiosity.

  Chapter 9

  Elena

  On Wednesday morning, after grabbing a muffin and a coffee at Starbucks, I arrive at work with a cheerful mood. The office is mostly deserted, which is normal for a Tuesday. Most of the agents prefer working at home. I’m more productive working at an office because Nonna likes to tempt me with her colorful social activities: book club, gardening club, singing club, etc. Sometimes I have to fill in her mahjong group to make a foursome.

  I’m surprised to see Keith’s office door open this early in the morning. He said something about his plan of being here regularly, but I didn’t take him seriously. My stomach clenches, wondering whether I should just pass it without acknowledging his presence. But etiquette forces me to pause at his door.

  “Good morning, Mr. Kelly,” I say without looking at him and walk away without waiting for his response.

  “Elena!” he calls out.

  My grip on the coffee cup tightens as I pause. “Yes?”

  “Do you have a moment?”

  “Sure.” I go into his office reluctantly, my eyes wandering from his desk, up to his erect torso. He’s wearing a crisp, pale blue shirt that reveals the contours of his chest muscles and his biceps. The top two buttons are undone. My eyes linger on the band of tan skin because I’m afraid to look up. I recall his beautiful naked top shimmering with water beads and my thighs clench.

  He’s got stubble all the way down to his Adam’s apple. Oh, God. I want to run the back of my hand to feel it. Professionalism forces me to meet his eyes—the pools of dazzling blue weaken my brainpower even though they’re actually icy cold at the moment.

  “I’m wondering,” he clears his throat and says in a professional tone. “Are you planning to set up a website?”

  The question takes me aback. I recall his assignment at the meeting. I’m not even sure whether I should stay with Prestige yet, and even if I would, I didn’t care for a website.

  “Not really,” I say honestly.

  He doesn’t look surprised. “In case you do, I’m available to help,” he says calmly.

  “Thank you.” I give him a tight smile.

  Before I leave the office, he says, “Even if you don’t plan to stay with the company, having a professional website helps your career in the long run. It’ll benefit you no matter where you go.”

  He’s probably right, but there’s no way I’ll ask him for help. I thank him again and head toward my office.

  While waiting for my computer to start, I think about what Keith said earlier. It’s true. Websites are important to business growth. Carlos’s meal delivery business might’ve survived if he had it. I’ve seen other agents’ websites where they post buyers’ positive reviews and boast their achievements. I’m by nature skeptical, and I won’t judge a person by flourishing statements, but then I can’t deny their positive effect on me either.

  I check email for offers on the Cypress Dr. house, ignoring a few low offers and forwarding the seller an offer at a reasonable price. And then I check local MLS listings to see whether there’s anything for my potential buyers.

  After that, I contemplate creating my website. I browse online for articles on the subject and let them convince me it’s good to have one. Actually, I had thoughts about it, but I’ve been procrastinating and trying to prove I might not need one. I click on the link that says build your website in thirty minutes. Minutes later, I find myself fiddle with the WordPress basic plan.

  I’m frustrated with the template of the homepage when I hear someone clearing his throat. I look up and see Keith standing next to me.

  “I’m sorry I don’t mean to startle you,” he says. “I’m wondering whether you’re interested in having lunch with me.”

  “What?” I look at the clock on the wall. It’s ten to twelve. Time certainly flies whether you’re having fun or not. “Oh, I’m…er, in the middle of something.”

  He glances at the computer screen and smiles. “Do you need help?”

  “Well, it doesn’t seem to be that difficult,” I lie. I’ve spent more than an hour on this already and haven’t gotten anywhere yet.

  “Elena. Let’s work together, please,” he says, looking sincere.

  I blush. I still want to refuse, but my resistance breaks after a glance over those blue eyes that are warm and soft now. I nod. “Sure.”

  He pulls a chair from an adjacent desk and sits down next to me.

  He takes a closer look at the template and says, “WordPress is great and offers lots of template choices, but Wix might be easier for a starter.”

  I have no idea whether what he says is true, but I shrug and let him take over the keyboard and take us to the Wix website. He clicks on the plans. “We’ll begin with the free plan and then upgrade it later if you want.”

  For the next few minutes, I watch his deft fingers typing on the keyboard and clicking on the mouse. He smells of pleasant cologne—a mixture of cedar and musk. His presence radiates heat waves like a furnace, and my body temperature rises rapidly. I can’t keep up with his explanations and merely sit there watching him moving from one page to another. “Would you like me to set it up for you now?”

  Shit. I realize he’s asking me a question. “Pardon me?” I blur while blushing. What the hell is wrong with me? The guy is offering me professional help, and I’m having inappropriate thoughts. Besides, I’m not supposed to respond to a dick like him—but he doesn’t look like a dick at the moment. He’s knowledgeable and friendly. He even flashes his gorgeous smile at me, like he did the other day at the open house.

  “Would you like me to set up a lead magnet for you?”

  I blink, trying to recall what the hell lead magnet means. I’ve heard this tech term many times, but my mind goes blank at the moment.

  “It collects contact info for you by offering some freebies to pot
ential clients.”

  That’s right. How could I forget that! “Sure! I would like that, please,” I say quickly.

  Due to dry throat, or embarrassment, my voice comes out husky. Keith’s eyes cloud over, and he fixes his gaze on me for a moment before moving back onto the computer screen.

  My thighs tingle as heat ripples through my body. What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I feeling this way toward him?

  “We’re all set,” Keith says suddenly, breaking my trance again.

  I look at the clock on the bottom of the screen. It’s 12:20. It took him less than thirty minutes. I’m so impressed it takes me a second to remember I should thank him.

  “No problem,” he says. “I’m glad to help. Let me know if you have trouble navigating it.”

  “Yes. I will,” I murmur, waiting for him to leave so I can breathe normally.

  But he stays where he is, showing no intention to move. He’s staring at me now as if trying to read me. Damn. What does he want? Nervously, I reach to grab my Starbucks coffee, remembering I haven’t finished half of it.

  Understanding my intention, he hands the coffee to me. As our hands touch, I tremble, and the cup slips from my hand and lands on his lap.

  “Ohmygod!” I scream as the dark liquid spills onto his pants. “I’m sorry!”

  “It’s okay,” he says, chuckling. “Don’t worry about it.”

  I quickly pull out some tissue from the Kleenex box and wipe the coffee off his pants. During my frantic movement, I feel a hard bulge underneath the expensive fabric, and I gasp. Holy shit. I’ve just touched his cock. And it’s hard. I gasp as I realize what I’ve done, and I glance up at him with my cheeks flaming.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I’m so embarrassed that I can’t face him. I draw back and look away, leaving him to clean it himself.

  “It’s not a big deal, Elena,” Keith says, suddenly his voice is deep and husky. “It’s not like you haven’t seen it.”

  What? Oh, my God! How could he joke about it now? And why am I all hot and bothered? I shouldn’t.