“Hey, isn’t that Wes Sinclair over there, flirting with the barista?” he asked.
Without her consent, Natalie’s stomach fluttered like an infatuated schoolgirl’s. God, she hated that the mere mention of her nemesis’s name had the power to elicit such a spontaneous response inside of her. Tamping down the annoying sensation in her belly, she followed Richard’s line of vision and realized by the gorgeous profile of the man’s face that it was, indeed, Wes standing at the register placing his order. And judging by the swoony look on Penny’s face, he was pouring on the charm.
“Why is he here?” she muttered, not at all happy to have him invading her place, especially when she was strategizing ways to take him down. “He never comes to this coffeehouse.” Or at least not in the morning hours when she was there.
“Does it really matter?” Richard asked, a teasing inflection in his voice as he adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “There is something so damn hot about a guy in a suit, and he knows how to fill his out like it was custom-made for that rock-hard body.”
She almost laughed at the wistful sound of Richard’s voice. “It probably was.” From the impeccable cut of the jacket that silhouetted his frame to the expensive, premium fabric, Wes’s attire definitely had that tailored look to it.
“You have to admit, he’s exceptional eye candy,” Richard said appreciatively.
She couldn’t argue with that, so she didn’t confirm or deny. No sense in implicating herself either way.
A few short minutes later, Wes collected his drink, then started for the door without noticing her. Natalie held her breath, and just when she thought she was in the clear, he casually glanced her way. Seeing her, he came to an abrupt stop, that gorgeous head of his tipping in surprise as his gaze met hers. She mentally willed him to leave her alone, but knew it was a futile wish when it came to Wes. Not when the opportunity to torment her in any way, shape, or form presented itself.
“Uh-oh,” Richard said beneath his breath. “Here comes trouble.”
“You have no idea,” she replied through tight lips, her heart beating faster with every self-assured step he took toward her.
Richard chuckled, low and deep. “Yeah, judging by the smirk on his handsome face, I think I do have some kind of an idea of how much trouble he can be.”
Wes finally reached where they were sitting, but before he could say anything, Natalie decided to speak first. “What are you doing here?” Crap. She hadn’t meant to sound so suspicious of his motives.
He heard it, too, and his striking blue eyes glimmered with amusement. “Don’t worry, I’m not stalking you or trying to learn all your secret plans for the Magnolia listing. I have a meeting across the street with a client. I saw this place and thought I’d give it a try. It’s pretty good coffee,” he said, taking a drink from his cup.
His reasoning sounded plausible enough, but she hoped he didn’t make a regular habit of stopping in. This was her little space in the morning, and she didn’t want to share it with him, not when he was so irritating and distracting. “Richard and I were just getting ready to leave. We have somewhere we need to be.” Now go away so I can think and breathe without inhaling your intoxicating cologne that makes me want to bury my face against your warm neck and get high on your scent.
At the mention of another man’s name, Wes’s gaze shifted to where Richard was sitting in the chair beside hers, his gaze narrowing slightly. Obviously, he hadn’t realized she was there with someone else and had thought that Richard was a stranger enjoying his morning coffee, like most everyone else in the place. Wes’s relaxed posture suddenly stiffened, and he studied Richard intently, as if he were sizing up the competition, which was a completely ridiculous thought to even cross her mind.
She opened her mouth to introduce the two of them, but Richard was quicker. He stood up and extended his hand toward Wes. “I’m Richard Weller, and you’re Wes Sinclair, right?”
Wes’s brows furrowed even further. “Yes.”
The two men shook hands, and Natalie was fascinated by the extra-firm grip Wes seemed to have around Richard’s palm before he let go.
“Do we know one another?” Wes asked gruffly.
Richard slid his hands into the front pockets of his pants and nodded. “We met a few months ago at a seminar for short sales and foreclosures. I also work with Natalie at Maxwell Real Estate.”
The disgruntled look on Wes’s face didn’t dissipate until he finally glanced back at Natalie. Then, it gradually dissolved into something more neutral. She wasn’t sure what to make of his odd behavior, but it was time for her to go, and she stood up, too.
“You have a meeting to get to, and I have a bet to win,” she said, keeping her tone light and cheeky. “So, I guess I’ll see you later, Big Shot.”
One of his dark brows rose, and the slow, infuriatingly sexy smile curving the corners of his full lips made her toes curl in her pumps. “Yes, I’ll definitely see you later, Minx. As for the bet, may the best Realtor win.”
“I will,” she said impudently.
He laughed, the low, husky sound adding to the tickling sensation in her belly. “We’ll see.”
He nodded at Richard, then turned and walked back toward the entrance.
Once he was gone, Richard glanced at her with a wicked grin. “God, Mr. Big Shot really is a hot piece of ass.”
“No,” she disagreed. “Most of the time he’s just an ass, nothing hot about it.”
Richard put his computer into his leather laptop bag, his gaze way too perceptive. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Minx.”
Her face warmed at the nickname Wes had recently given her, which she secretly loved but would never admit to it. “Keep telling myself what?” she asked, wondering what her friend was getting at.
“That the two of you aren’t hot for each other,” he said blatantly. “You guys act like you’re frenemies, but take it from an outsider who just saw the two of you engage in the equivalent of verbal foreplay.”
“We did not,” she refuted. But yeah, they kinda did.
Richard rolled his eyes. “And did you not see the way he checked me out when you introduced me? And it wasn’t because I’m hot and he wanted to get into my pants. He was sizing up the competition. I think Wes thinks that we are, you know.” He waggled his brows for comic relief.
It worked. She burst out laughing, because the idea of her and Richard sleeping together was absurd. The man wanted nothing to do with breasts and vaginas.
“Not to mention the way he looked at you, as if he was thinking of all the dirty things he wanted to do if he had the chance to get you naked.”
For a few moments, before Wes had realized that Richard was with her, she had felt the heat of his stare—the way his gaze had leisurely dropped to her lips, then to her chest, making her body ache in inappropriate places. “It’s nothing,” she muttered, and turned away from Richard as she shoved her iPad into her purse.
“Oh, it’s something, sweetheart,” he said, sounding more sincere now. “But you obviously don’t want to admit it.”
Not out loud, anyway. Their attraction was just all part of that frustrating push-pull between them, that back-and-forth verbal foreplay that Richard had pointed out. It had never amounted to anything and never would, because Wes seemed to have a no fraternizing with his best friend’s little sister rule that he strictly abided by.
Which was probably a good thing, considering what a player and notorious heartbreaker Wes was when it came to women. She’d already had her heart shattered once, and she was finally in a good, solid place emotionally. Given the goals she had in life that included a husband and kids, Wes Sinclair, playboy extraordinaire, did not fit the bill, and she’d be an idiot to get involved with another man who didn’t share her views.
Chapter Five
Natalie glanced from her cell phone to Richard, who was leaning a hip against her desk in her small cubicle that was her “office” at work. His arms were folded across his
chest as she waited in nervous anticipation for a return call from Max at Premier Realty, who’d agreed to be the selling broker and mediator between her and Wes on the Magnolia listing to keep the bet fair.
“I can’t believe it’s come down to this,” she said, trying to calm the jitters in her stomach.
“It’s not over until it’s over,” Richard said, trying to be supportive.
Since she and Wes had made the bet, it had taken her five days of major hustling, dozens of cold calls, and pounding the payment before she’d gotten a solid lead from the relocation company. They had just signed on a new client, a neurosurgeon, who was transferring from Pittsburgh to Chicago with his wife and three children and were looking for a new residence. Their criteria had matched the Magnolia listing, and after flying into Chicago to walk through the house, the Sandersons had fallen in love with the property.
Unfortunately, Wes had a client who was equally enamored of the home.
First thing this morning, Natalie had submitted a full price bid for the house for her clients, confident that the seller would accept and the feather would be solidly in her hat. Less than an hour later, Max had called her back to let her know that Wes’s clients had submitted a higher bid right after hers, and wanted to know if her buyers wanted to increase their offer. Thus, a bidding war had ensued, with back-and-forth phone calls all day long between her, her clients, and Max, who was representing the seller’s best interest.
Her clients wanted the house, but it seemed that Wes’s buyers wanted it more. For every offer she submitted on behalf of the Sandersons, his client outbid. The one-point-six-million listing was now up to one-point-seven hundred and fifty, which was Wes’s buyer’s last bid. Natalie was now anxiously awaiting a return call from the Sandersons to see if they were willing to go any higher.
She nearly jumped out of her chair and Richard chuckled when her phone vibrated and chimed on her desktop, and the name Jeff Sanderson showed up on the caller ID. Taking a few seconds to collect her composure and to send a silent plea up to the betting gods that her clients would come through for her, she answered in a calm, even voice . . . only to have all her hopes crushed when Jeff said, “My wife and I decided not to increase our bid. We’re backing out.”
All of Natalie’s optimism plummeted in that moment, and the back of her throat grew dry from disappointment. She’d known that with every increase, they were getting further and further away from what the Sandersons could comfortably afford, but a part of her had been holding out hope that Wes’s client would fold first.
Jeff told her that he’d like to look at other similar houses in their price range, and she was at least grateful that somewhere down the line was a million-dollar sale. But not one that would win a bet against Wes.
More painful was making the call to Max, to let him know that her client had backed out of the bidding—which was equivalent of her conceding defeat.
“You did well, Natalie,” Max said, and she could hear in his voice that he felt bad that she’d lost the bidding war. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for your client.”
“Thanks, Max,” she replied, appreciating his kindness, instead of him saying something to kick her when she was down. He was a great guy, and she was truly bummed she wasn’t going to get the opportunity to work with him at Premier Realty.
She disconnected the call and glanced up at Richard, who looked disappointed on her behalf. He knew how important this had been to her. It hadn’t been just about winning a bet against Wes—though that would have been a nice cherry on top of the sundae—but more about proving that she had what it took to work for a luxury real estate firm. Specifically, Wes’s firm.
“I was hoping to take you out for a celebratory drink, but I’m thinking this situation calls for drowning yourself in something rich and chocolatey at Ghirardelli’s,” Richard said like the good friend he was.
She managed a small smile, but before she could reply, her phone vibrated and chimed—but this time with a text message. From Wes. She’d expected him to gloat, but his note was short and concise.
Meet me at Navy Pier beneath the main arch at nine p.m. tonight.
She had no idea what he had planned, but she’d agreed to do whatever he asked, without complaint. She was beginning to regret giving him that kind of power over her, but she’d never reneged on a bet, and she wasn’t about to start now.
* * *
Wes hadn’t heard back from Natalie after sending his text, and with it nearly nine p.m., he was beginning to wonder if she was going to show. He’d been standing beneath the Navy Pier sign for the past ten minutes, and for a late August evening, it was thankfully cool instead of humid. But as each minute ticked by without any sign of his sexy adversary, he had more doubts about her meeting him as he’d requested.
Which wasn’t like Natalie at all.
Even as a young kid, while she’d always been competitive, she’d never been a sore loser. No, failing at anything only made her more determined and driven to conquer whatever had eluded her grasp. He wasn’t sure how she was going to spin this loss into something positive, and maybe she’d come to the same conclusion, as well, which would explain her possible no-show.
Five minutes after nine, just as he reached into his pocket for his cell phone to call Natalie, he caught sight of her approaching the pier. She was taking her own sweet time walking toward him, as if she hadn’t kept him waiting. He knew her well enough to realize it was a deliberate slight on her part, that even though she’d obeyed his request, she was doing so on her terms. And Jesus Christ, that defiance of hers made his dick twitch at the thought of taming her in the bedroom, of making her give up control to him and enjoy doing so.
Yeah, nice fantasy, Sinclair.
Unlike the silk blouses she favored for her business attire during the day, tonight she was wearing a formfitting black tank top that molded to her full breasts and was tucked into a pair of black skinny jeans that looked just as tight. The neckline of her top scooped low enough to tease him with a glimpse of the soft upper swells of her breasts and the cleavage in between—which was probably her intent. Her unbound glossy hair shone in the overhead lamplight, and a few long silver necklaces accentuated her outfit and bounced against her breasts with each step she took toward him.
But it was the bright red strappy heels on her feet—the one pop of color against all the black—that piqued his imagination and prompted all sorts of filthy, dirty thoughts to take up residence in his head. Mainly, her wearing nothing but those shoes as she wrapped her legs tight around his waist while he fucked them both into oblivion.
He wiped that arousing vision from his mind just as she came to a stop in front of him. Oh, yeah, there was a rebellious spark in her gaze, and he was about to provoke her a bit more.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re late.”
She lifted her shoulder in a casual, unapologetic shrug. “I couldn’t find a parking spot.”
At nine p.m. on a Wednesday night? He highly doubted that. He hadn’t had an issue with parking, and that had been only fifteen minutes ago. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again. Not without good reason.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, saluting him as if he were a sergeant, just to rile him in return. “What are we doing here, anyway? Are you planning on making me walk some kind of plank off the pier?”
He chuckled. “Nothing so dire, I promise.”
Saying nothing more, he grabbed her hand in his and headed toward his destination, surprised when she didn’t attempt to yank her arm back. He’d take that small concession, because a bigger one was coming up that would undoubtedly test her fortitude.
Even before he’d won the bet, he’d decided that this adventure would be their first battle of wills, and there was no doubt in his mind that she was going to do everything in her power to wheedle her way out of this challenge. But he wasn’t backing down. Her acquiescence would set the tone for the next two weeks and would make her realize who was in charge.
/> Him.
They walked by restaurants, shops, and some of the major attractions on the pier. When they passed the iconic Ferris wheel and it finally dawned on her where he was going and what they’d be doing, she stopped in her tracks, and with a hard pull, she extracted her hand from his. Expecting nothing less from Natalie considering what awaited her, he turned around and prepared himself for the fight.
“What the hell, Wes? We are not getting on that thing.” She pointed an offending finger at the Centennial Wheel, which was like a luxurious, enclosed Ferris wheel that reached heights of over two hundred feet.
The high, aerial ride was like a throwback to their youth. It reminded him of a childhood incident, and the one and only time he’d ever seen Natalie give up on something she wanted so badly, and that was to join him and her brother in the tree house that her father had built in their backyard. At ten years old, she’d made it up the ladder only once, because one look down and she’d nearly hyperventilated. Her father had to climb up to rescue her and carried her down while she kept her eyes squeezed shut.
Wes and Connor couldn’t have been happier that she never again attempted to scale the ladder, because it made the tree house the one place they knew for certain they could escape to without Connor’s pesky younger sister tagging along and annoying them. It had been their hangout, boys only, and Natalie had hated that she couldn’t join them.
“You’ll be fine,” he said with a persuasive smile. “I paid to have one of the VIP pods all to ourselves, so there will be plenty of room inside.”
Her pretty blue eyes glared daggers at him. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because I’ve always wanted to go on this ride,” he said, which was the truth. Partially. “Oh, and because you lost the bet and I’m asking you to.”
Big Shot Page 4
