She gave him a hard stare. “Let’s check out the view.”
The balcony was narrow and basically useless except maybe for a quick smoke. The view, however, was special. On that unusually sunny morning in March, the beach was pristine. Turquoise waters spread out to the horizon.
Nick asked what year the building was built.
“Nineteen seventy-one,” she said. “True, it’s dated. But you won’t get this much space with new construction.”
“What are they asking?”
“Six hundred and fifty thousand. We can negotiate something more reasonable.”
“How much to renovate?”
She hadn’t thought about it. “I’m guessing twenty-five grand.”
“We’re talking a new kitchen, total bathroom overhauls, new floors...”
“Okay,” she said hotly. “I get your point. It would cost too much.”
He studied her for a second. “Leila, we’re just talking.”
The look in his eyes was so gentle. Why couldn’t she keep it together?
“It’s not worth the expense,” he said.
“I understand.”
“And, to be honest, I don’t think I’m interested in condos. Not anymore.”
“Wait. You want to look at houses? Waterfront houses? Can you afford—?” She stopped herself. It wasn’t her job to question his choices.
“When you think about the future, where do you see yourself? In a glorified apartment?”
“Depends on what you mean when you say ‘future.’ The foreseeable future or what?”
Leila refused to read too much into Nick’s sudden return. He’d told her not to worry about him leaving, but she remained convinced that once a lucrative opportunity rolled in, he’d roll out—like the stone he was.
“I mean forever.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “Come on, Nick.”
“What’s so funny? My parents have been living in the same house for the last thirty years.”
“But you’re nothing like them. Remember?”
“Find me a house. We’ll find out.”
* * *
She found him a house.
On four o’clock that Friday, three weeks into their contract, they met at a gated community on the Miami River, an area Nick had never considered. She waited in her little Mazda parked curbside and when he pulled up next to her, she pointed to the modern gate and mouthed, “Follow me.”
She should know he’d follow her anywhere.
The gates parted, revealing an oasis of open space and mature trees. Nick liked what he was seeing so far. An enclave with ten to twelve newly constructed modern homes, some on the bank of the river, others on dry lots.
Leila pulled up to a remote house surrounded by tall palms. She got out of her car, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders. She wore a light camisole top and a fitted skirt that looked more like bondage. Most women wouldn’t dress that way for a work engagement, but most women weren’t his Leila.
Nick got out of his car and responded to her shy smile with, “Is this how you dress to meet all the clients you’re not sleeping with?”
Her expression turned sour. “Yes. I would think a man like you could handle it.”
“You overestimate what I can handle.”
Locked in stubborn silence, she challenged him. Why are you being a jerk?
He apologized. “It’s been a long week.”
“Well, I hope this house lifts your spirits.”
He looked up at the smart two-story modern house. It was painted cream with large bay windows and exotic wood accent panels. “What do we have here?”
She smiled, seemingly encouraged. “I know when you said you wanted a waterfront home you meant the beach, but I think you should give this a chance. The neighborhood isn’t exactly residential—”
“You can say that again.” Seafood markets lined the narrow road that snaked along the river.
“Still, it has its charm.”
“Agreed.”
“It’s close to downtown and Brickell, and you can hop on the causeway to get to the beach in minutes.” She talked smoothly, betraying hours of rehearsal. “Should we go inside?”
“After you.”
Leila headed up the stairs leading to the wide front door. He trailed her to get a look at her from behind. Before opening the door she said proudly, “This house comes with a dock.”
The front door opened to a carefully staged room, contemporary in style but comfortable. The open layout was made more so by a wall of windows that showcased the yard, a modest pool—at least by his standards—and a view of the empty dock where his next big purchase would likely fit nicely. Leila directed his attention to the kitchen, as any good agent would. He appreciated the overall look—white cabinetry and glass subway tile—but thought it lacked space.
“It’s small,” he said disapprovingly.
“Compact.” She pointed out the top-of-the-line appliances. “Two ovens, a stovetop, and look at the size of that refrigerator.”
“It’s small,” he repeated.
“You don’t even cook!” she cried.
“Consider the resale value. Size matters.”
He headed out the back door to check the yard. He could picture Sunday mornings on the teak deck. He could see his new catamaran tethered to the dock. More importantly, he could picture Leila in a bikini—out of a bikini—by the pool.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
He turned to face her. She looked as if she were holding her breath. When was the last time he’d kissed her? “Let’s check out the second floor.”
On their way up the winding stairs, he asked for the specs.
“Brand-spanking-new construction.”
“I figured.” The last condo building she’d shown him was so dated he’d thought he’d seen the ghost of Frank Sinatra in the lobby.
“Three thousand square feet. On our way out, I’ll show you the garage.”
“How many bedrooms?”
“Four—and three and a half baths.”
They’d reached the door of the master bedroom. He took in the dark wood floors, king-size bed and a sitting area set up with a flat-screen TV. “You know this kind of reminds me—” He stopped himself from saying anything more, but the look on Leila’s face made it clear she’d read his mind. It reminded him of the hotel suite in New York where they’d had the time of their lives. She turned away, flustered, and led him to the en suite bath.
He found nothing offensive there. He wasn’t a fan of the square sinks, but he loved the steam shower. He counted four showerheads. After a workout, it would feel good. And if Leila joined him, it would feel like heaven.
“Now let’s check out the closet,” she said.
The walk-in closet finishes were cheap—big-box, closet-kit stuff.
“There’s plenty of room for your suits.” She opened a cabinet fitted with a safe. “Your watches could go in here. What do you think?”
Nick was touched by the effort she’d put in to finding him a home tailored to his needs. He took a step toward her. She jumped back and bumped into a shoe rack.
“If I’m off the mark, just say so,” she said nervously. “Only, I don’t know what the mark is. So you can’t blame me if I can’t hit it.”
He took another step. He was close enough to kiss her. Leila looked away, her breathing erratic, and he hadn’t even touched her.
“Listen,” she said, “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove.”
He studied her unhurriedly, watching the flutter of her lashes. “I think you do.”
He backed off and waited outside the closet door, giving her a few minutes to collect herself.
When she joined him, she avoided eye contact and asked in a strained voice if he wanted to see the other bedrooms.
; The smallest bedroom was fitted with bunk beds. Nick groaned at the sight of them. “My brother and I slept in one of those. He got the top bunk.”
Leila swiveled around to face him. She looked utterly stunned. “You have a brother?”
“I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before.”
“Never.” Her tone was accusatory.
“I wasn’t trying to hide him, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s my half brother and ten years older than me.”
Leila pulled the chair from the child-size desk and sat down. “Were you two close?”
“He went off to college and we barely saw each other after that.”
She studied him wide-eyed until he grew uncomfortable under her scrutiny. Then she turned to the bunk beds as if trying to imagine him and his brother, Logan, on them.
“You said your dad bought you pet fish so you wouldn’t be alone, yet you had a brother.”
The memory of the night he’d shared that story brought a wistful smile to his face. “He got me the fish after Logan left for school.”
“You must have been seven or eight when he went away.”
It wasn’t a question so he didn’t answer. In his mind’s eye he saw Logan grinning at him through the window of their dad’s truck. He’d lowered to the ground, fisted some snow into a ball and threw it just as the truck pulled away.
Leila was looking at him now with such affection he was disarmed. “I’ll put an offer on this house.”
“This one? Are you sure?”
It was as good as any. “I’m sure.”
She stood and looked uncertain as to what her next move should be. After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Nick, I can show you more options. You don’t have to settle.”
He shook his head. “I’m not settling, Leila. I’ve always known what I wanted.”
Chapter 26
One rainy morning Leila finally met with the nursing home director to finalize her aunt’s transfer to hospice care. On the long drive home, she fell into a dark mood. When Leila lost her mother, her aunt had not sought to replace her and Leila had appreciated it. But her presence had always been reassuring, and now to lose her, too. I’m grown. I can handle it. She repeated this over and over, willing herself to believe it.
When she got back Brie was at her desk, printing out a research paper. She followed Leila into her office.
“How’s auntie?”
Leila grunted a response. If she opened her mouth, she’d cry.
“That bad? Well, I have something to take your mind off of it.” She handed her a sticky note with a name and a number. “An inquiry. And by the sound of him, he’s almost as dreamy as Nicolas Adrian.”
Nick. She’d submitted his offer, a low-ball offer, on the house. However, the seller was honeymooning in Greece. They were promised an answer in ten days. Since then, there hadn’t been a reason to call or an excuse to meet. Some days she hoped he’d call anyway, but he never did. If this was the new normal that she’d been working toward, she had to admit it was pretty dull.
Leila put Nick out of her mind, returning her attention to the sticky note. As it turned out, Miller was the gift that kept on giving. He’d referred a lawyer friend with a rental property he was eager to unload. They met for lunch the next day. His name was Stephen Green. Thin, tall, with dark brown skin and equally dark brown eyes, he was handsome. As dreamy as Nick? Sure. Maybe.
Leila sat across from him at the Miracle Mile sidewalk café, frustrated that her first thought had been to compare him to Nick. Over a glass of wine, she asked him about the property he was looking to sell.
“It’s a solid house, built in the ’60s. And not far from Sunset Drive.”
“Great location.”
Stephen said he’d bought it during the market boom, hoping to flip it. His friends had made fast money that way. But then, as his luck would have it, the renovations stalled and the market went bust.
“I couldn’t give it away.” He’d rented it out and started his second career as a landlord. Since the market was looking up, he figured it was time to sell.
Leila dipped a piece of bread into a shallow bowl of olive oil. “I agree.”
“Miller said you knew your stuff. I’ll leave pricing up to you. Obviously, I’d like to break even.”
“I think we can do better than that.”
The unexpected endorsement from Miller was a tremendous boost. Her self-esteem was flying high, a bouncy red balloon, and then suddenly it burst. Nick and a woman stepped out of a shop two doors down. Leila recognized Sandra Villanueva immediately.
Sandra spotted them first. She grabbed Nick’s arm. “Oh, look who’s here!”
Nick’s gaze fell on her. Leila looked away. The last thing she wanted was a big, messy scene in front of a potential client. But her worries were unfounded. After a polite hello, Nick turned his attention to Stephen. Apparently they went way back. And now a sort of reunion was under way.
Stephen jumped to his feet and shook Nick’s hand. “Hey, man. I didn’t know you were back. When will you come around to the gym?”
“Soon. I miss it.”
Stephen slapped him on the back. “Cool.”
“We don’t mean to interrupt your lunch,” Sandra said. “We’re on our way to meet a buyer.”
“We’re here on business, too,” Leila said.
Instead of addressing her, Nick turned to Stephen. “Are you in the market?”
“Trying to unload a house I wanted to flip years ago,” Stephen replied. “I would’ve called you if I’d known you were back.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Nick said. “Leila is one of the best.”
“I don’t think we’ll have trouble selling the house,” Leila said. “It’s a great investment property or first home.”
“I know people who deal with developers all day,” Nick said. “I can bring someone by when you’re ready to show.”
“Thanks. I’ll give you a call. Same number?”
“The same.”
“Enjoy your lunch,” Sandra said.
Nick said goodbye, addressing no one in particular. Together he and Sandra drifted away, unhurried, heads together, co-conspirators. Leila gripped the butter knife like a sabre. What do you know! He’d wasted no time finding a new Monica.
* * *
The South Miami house was a modest A-frame with a cheery, yellow-shingled façade. At two hundred and fifty thousand, it was priced right. Leila enlisted Sofia to help with the open house. She showed up early to set up a wine bar and a buffet of bite-size delights. They had a solid turnout around lunchtime. After two hours, Leila was ready to lock up when an agent showed up with a special client: her old roommate Alicia.
Alicia had changed. Gone were the graduate student braids and sweatpants. Her wavy hair was pulled up in an elegant French twist and her lips and nails were painted burgundy.
“I never thought I’d see you again,” Alicia said.
Leila owed her an apology and was grateful for the chance to deliver it in person. She asked Alicia’s agent for a moment alone with her client.
“It’s okay,” Alicia said. “She’s an old friend.”
Once her agent was out of earshot, she dropped her Coach bag on the wood floor, ready to rumble. “Do you have something to say to me?”
“I’m sorry,” Leila said quietly.
“That’s a start,” Alicia said. “But I want an explanation. What the hell happened to you?”
“I had to leave town in a hurry. Don’t take it personally.”
“When your roommate bails on you without notice, it’s tough to not take it personally.”
“It’s a long story, but I lost my job and my boyfriend all on the same day.”
“It looks like you’ve recovered both,” Alicia said dryly. She pointed out the window.
Leila glanced over her shoulder. Nick was on the porch, laughing and chatting with Alicia’s agent. He was with his old “friend” Marisol. Ugh! But wait—
“How do you know Nick?”
“He came around looking for you.”
“When was this?”
“A couple of weeks after you went missing in action. I’ll never forget it. He was waiting by the door. Scared the crap out of me.”
When Nick had said he’d come looking for her, she’d imagined he’d flown down and made some inquiries at the office before hopping on the last plane back to New York. He’d never been to her apartment, and she didn’t think he’d take the time to find it.
So he had “gone crazy” looking for her. Leila processed the news with equal parts delight and dismay. The whole knight-in-shining-armor thing was plenty delightful. But she was dismayed with herself for having put him in that position in the first place.
“I guess it all worked out,” Alicia said.
“We’re not together. It’s complicated.”
“Why can’t anything be simple these days?”
Leila glanced at Nick again. He’d slipped off his sunglasses, working his magic to charm the two women, his blue eyes expressive and alive.
But he’d come after her. Sat waiting outside her door.
“What’s the deal with this house?” Alicia asked.
“What do you want to know?” Leila kept her eyes on Nick. He rested a hand on Marisol’s shoulder and pretty much ate up all the good will Alicia’s news had inspired.
“Hello!” Alicia cried.
Leila tore away from the window. “Sorry. That was rude.”
“Yes, it was. I’m into this place. I work at the hospital and it’s a short commute from here. I’ve been outbid several times on other houses. Anything you can tell me would help.”
“All I can say is that my client really wants to sell. Put in a strong offer and I’ll take it from there.”
* * *
That evening Leila received two offers: one from Alicia and another slightly more competitive one from a buyer represented by Marisol. Leila got on the phone with Alicia’s agent. “Could she come up a bit? We have another offer on the table.”
“How much?”
Exclusively Yours Page 16
