by Liz Crowe
Floor Time
Stewart Realty, Book One
Liz Crowe
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
About the Author
Also by Liz Crowe
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Floor Time
Copyright © 2019 Liz Crowe
Buoni Amici Press, LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected].
Published by Buoni Amici Press, LLC www.buoniamicipress.com
Book and Cover design by Buoni Amici Press, LLC
Disclaimer:
Material in this work of fiction is of a graphic sexual nature and is not intended for audiences under 18 years of age.
To Drue Hoffman.
My amateur therapist, advisor, talker-off-of-walls, listener, calming influence, and friend.
Prologue
Sara pressed her palms against the ice-cold glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse condo. From this angle, she could see the entire downtown of Ann Arbor spread out below her like a child’s carpet map. Early summer heat rose from the pavement as crowds scurried in and out of restaurants and shops.
Adam’s arms around her waist startled her. As she turned and let him kiss her again, a niggling voice at the back of her brain made her hesitate. They’d camped out in the vacant condo way too long. Now that she’d faked a satisfactory orgasm in face of his earnest efforts, an antsy, nervous sensation wormed through her psyche. She sighed and disentangled herself.
When the doorbell echoed through the cavernous space, she broke out in a cold sweat. Fumbling with blouse buttons, she pushed past Adam on her way through the kitchen and to the door, cursing under her breath. She looked back to make sure he was pulled together – not a tough thing since neither of them had gotten completely out of their clothes – and sighed when he gave her a knowing smile.
You shouldn’t have done this. You don’t even really like him. But it had been so long and he was good looking. Jesus. Slut much, Sara?
He hadn’t even been able to truly satisfy her. No man had, if she were honest with herself. Not really. She’d come close, or at least she believed she had. But would usually let out a fake sigh or groan of pleasure to get the guy to just…stop. The thrill of the chase was enough or at least it had been until now. Now, she was feeling a distinct desire for something more. At almost twenty-nine years old, she figured she was due. Adam had seemed like a good enough prospect but had fallen short.
Just like every man before him.
Sara let guilty thoughts about her seriously unprofessional behavior in this condo clang around her head long enough to hear the doorbell ring once more before yanking it open, her perfect pleased-to-see-you sales smile fixed in place. She held the condo keys out in front of her, ready to drop into a no-doubt impatient agent’s outstretched hand.
Jack had a hot date, one that was going to yield him a kick-ass listing in addition to getting laid, but for the unwarranted dawdling of the condo-shopping couple he had been dragging. At this rate, he’d be lucky to only be a half hour late. The empty lock box hanging on the doorknob of the penthouse unit provided the real icing on his shit cake. He leaned on the doorbell, wishing they could skip this one and stop wasting his time while mouthing platitudes to his clients. He had hoped that the high-level relocating couple like the ones he was courting at that moment wouldn’t spend so much of his valuable time arguing over granite colors and the relative benefits of central vacuum cleaners. Not to mention all the time they spent reminding him how god damned rich and important they were.
God, he hated this job sometimes. Even though he excelled at it. So much so he was a millionaire twice over, and owned enough student housing and commercial space to make that thrice over if he ever felt a need to liquidate. He was a planner. A goal-maker. And so far, his goals had proven attainable, with discipline and hard work. Neither of which he was a stranger to. Not having a family to support helped, of course, but that was something he didn’t necessarily consider a bad thing, at least so far.
He smiled and turned, hearing the click of the deadbolt.
Finally.
When the heavy door swung open, the vision standing there froze his vocal cords mid-sales pitch. Sara Thornton, one of the newer, and more successful, agents at Stewart Realty, stared at him, eyes blazing in a strange combination of emotions he couldn’t pinpoint. Jack clenched his jaw at the sight of her body encased in a skintight short black skirt, creamy silk blouse and four-inch stilettos.
Damn.
He knew of her. Knew she had real-deal sales skills. He’d studied the downtown, storefront branch’s numbers as part of a decision-making process to manage that stable of prima donnas. A decision he’d been delaying so long his broker was starting to get twitchy over it.
But at that moment Jack couldn’t believe he’d never noticed her before – really noticed her.
Where had she been hiding? And what was that amazing sexy aura that was permeating the air?
“Um, hi, Jack.” The sound of her voice—low and touch raspy—made him blink. He had to make a concerted effort to wipe the idiotic look off his face, aware of the clients crowding his elbow. He held out a hand, dying to confirm that her skin was as hot as it looked. Surprised no one else saw the sparks pass between them, he couldn’t suppress a grin at the expression on her flustered face when her fingers grazed his palm as she placed the keys in it.
So, she sensed it too. This could get interesting.
“Sara.” He heard his own voice, sounding a hell of a lot more confident than he felt at that moment. And he did not rattle easily. “Sorry to barge in, but…” He was struck dumb once again by the sight of Adam Donovan, mortgage broker tool, who’d materialized at Sara’s shoulder.
The realization of what had just happened in the very condo he was about to show smacked him right in the face. Reluctant admiration mixed with something like a twinge of unfamiliar jealousy fogged his brain. He raised his eyebrows at the tall blonde man whom he could have sworn was engaged to someone else.
“Jack,” Adam said as he moved around the woman blocking the doorway. “Good to see you.”
Jack shook the guy’s hand, but kept his gaze on her. His brain engaged, focus locked on Sara Thornton, and the world shifted under his expensively clad feet forever.
Sara had never been more embarrassed. No, that was too weak of a word – mortified was better. Jack Gordon, king of the Ann Arbor real estate universe, wanted to show the condo where she’d just let Adam Donovan mercy fuck her. Where she’d engaged in yet one more effort to capture what she honestly believed was her disappearing libido and failed, miserably.
As she tried not to drown in Jack’s deep blue gaze, Sara found herself imagining how he might have done it differently, and likely better. Which was patently ridiculous. Jack Gordon had never once even spoken to her, much less expressed any interest in her.
“Um, hi, Jack,” she croaked out. Her face flooded with heat. It got worse when she put the keys in his hand. The way her fingertips grazed his palm was the worst kind of clichés. She yanked herself back, horri
fied by and yet drawn to the intensity of their connection. Jack was tall, likely six foot three or maybe four, handsome in an unconventional, rugged way, with coal-black hair and eyes that were the deepest shade of blue she’d ever seen. Both his personality—one that bested all males in a hundred-mile radius—and his reputation preceded him. Sara only knew of him, of course. However, she’d swear right then he seemed happy to see her.
She watched his full lips form words but was so deafened by the roaring in her ears she couldn’t form words. His gaze never left hers, even when Adam nudged her aside and shook his hand. Her whole universe suddenly shrank to two people. Her, Sara the go-getter real estate agent. Growing her wealth on her own, sister to Blake, daughter to a pair of doctors. Slim, fit, owner of her own car and condo. Successful by all outward measures of judgement. But unhappy with her life at a gut deep level. In a way that she was too embarrassed to even admit to herself.
Her. And this … this fantasy man who she’d swear didn’t know she existed five minutes ago. The moment was so fraught, crackling with possibility in a way she’d never, ever experienced.
Chapter One
Sara sat straight up in the bed, the sheet wrapped around and between her legs, the alarm jangling in her ears. She ran her hand through her sweaty hair and came to grips with the fact that she had been dreaming about Jack Gordon.
Again.
Damn.
She glanced at the clock – five a.m., an ungodly hour, but the only time she could fit in a run. Sighing, she flopped back onto her pile of pillows and closed her eyes, foregoing the run and hoping for one more hour of blessed oblivion before tackling the hectic workday ahead.
She had a couple of deals on the ragged edge of falling apart, plus new buyers to mentor and a several sellers to hand-hold. Not to mention a huge transaction that she currently held together with a glue stick and the sheer force of her will.
How could she have known that she’d have an encounter with Ann Arbor’s most successful Realtor and eligible bachelor on the same day she’d admitted to herself that her sex life was a giant goose egg? Jack’s mischievous grin and deep blue eyes had seared her consciousness, leaving zero doubt about his assessment of her frazzled, post-inappropriate-moment self. The whole scene had left her speechless, and had haunted her nights ever since.
She took a long, hot shower, and tried to conjure something, anything resembling desire for Adam. A man who could be The One, if she’d only let him be. But…nothing.
Groomed and ready by nine, Sara was headed out the door on her way to the office when her phone buzzed. A mystery number flashed on the screen but she took the call anyway, as any decent Realtor would.
“Sara Thornton,” she said as she grabbed her laptop, mind on her lengthy to-do list.
“Hey, Sara, it’s Jack.” The deep voice that had invaded her dreams that morning sliced into her nerve endings. Sara’s fingertips tingled where he’d touched her that day when she’d handed over the condo keys, which pissed her off. She had no reason to think anything about the man but as a fellow agent. She was a professional woman, thanks. She had no time for Jack and his deep, sexy voice. Or his wide shoulders, long legs, the way he wore a suit.
She shook her head to clear it, realizing about a second and a half too late she’d been silent too long.
“Oh, um, hey there. What’s up?” Laptop forgotten, she slumped against the wall.
“I wanted to tell you about a house I listed.”
Sara tried to calm her breathing and let him fill the silence that ensued. But memories of the entirely inappropriate dream she’d about him filled her mind, bringing the sort of flush to her face she hadn’t experienced since losing her virginity.
“I got it signed up yesterday, actually. It’s in your neck of the woods, where you do a lot of business.”
“Where? I mean I’ve got listings all over right now.” She swore under her breath for sounding like a stupid, bragging rookie.
“I know, hot stuff. But you list in Lansdowne a lot, right? I’ve got a great deal there – kids listing mom’s house since she’s moved over to the retirement village.”
“Um, sure, well, I grew up there so everybody pretty much knows me.” Sara’s sales hackles rose at the thought that someone had taken a listing out from under her. She had met a woman three days ago who was considering listing her mom’s house – a striking tall blonde, who had seemed ready to sign with Sara but had “one more agent to meet first.”
Sara now realized who that “one more agent” must have been. Her face flushed again but for an entirely different reason. Jack Gordon may be as hot as five thousand fucks on a stick, but he was also, apparently, a client-stealing asshole.
She finished gathering her stuff, stomped to her car, jerked open the door and tossed her stuff into the back, equilibrium successfully regained.
“Yeah, my new client said she knew you, but I guess she liked me better.” He chuckled.
“Great. Are you calling to gloat or actually tell me about the house?”
In a flash of disturbing erotic images, Sara realized that the stupid blonde MILF had likely demanded a piece of Jack’s tail in exchange for her listing. She sat, gripping the steering wheel.
“It’s one of the tri-levels, a piece of shit, really, grandma’s décor and the whole ten yards. But hey, it’s Lansdowne, right?”
Bastard knew how to turn the knife didn’t he?
Sara sucked in a breath as she turned onto Main Street. “Yeah, okay, how much?” She ground her teeth. “And you’d better give me a number somewhere north of four fifty.”
“Oh really,” he teased, perhaps not realizing she was serious. “And why is that, pray tell, Miz Thornton?”
“Because, asshole, it’s Lansdowne and I have some credibility there, telling people the value of their houses…and stuff.” She bit the inside of her cheek, will her words back into her mouth.
Nice one, Sara, way to impress. Asshole? Seriously?
Jack laughed and it sent a spark shooting from the top of her head through her entire body. It made her shiver. And scared her. And made her wish she had him right in front of her.
Jesus. She was losing her mind. Straight up.
But if she were not mistaken her damn thigs were shaking. She got in the car and fired up the engine, backed out without looking as much as she should and screeched out into the street while the conversation switched to her Bluetooth.
“Seriously, I know, I know. I’m just messing with you.”
“Whatever, Jack, I’m busy. Don’t you have better things to do than call me up and throw the fact you stole a listing in my territory up in my face?” She waited at a stoplight, hardly recalling the actual trip from her condo trying not to relish the way his name felt coming across her lips. “Well?” she shouted into the car.
“Relax, babe, it’s all good – these people are gonna be a pain the ass, I can tell, so consider it a gift from me to you.”
Sara’s face flushed, remembering last night’s dream, realizing what sort of gift she’d like to get from him. She shook her head, dispelling him, or at least trying to. He was just another man. A new one, and one who seemed interested in her. She knew the drill. She’d tease, flirt, maybe go out on a date, end up in the sack. And fake yet another orgasm. The whole thing made her tired thinking about it.
Besides, Jack Gordon? For real? The dude was, like, the epitome of toxic masculinity. Or so she’d assumed, given all the gossip that swirled around about him. Too rich for his own good. Never dating anyone longer than a few weeks. Breaking hearts was his favorite hobby. She gunned the car through the intersection too fast and nearly plowed into the rear end of the minivan in front of her.
“Gee, thanks, hon. Do me a favor and spare me at Christmas? I can’t imagine what you’d consider an appropriate gift then. Take care now, bye-bye.” She hung up before he could respond.
Sara sat, dumbfounded at herself. She’d just hung up on Jack-fucking-Gordon – the freaking master
of the Ann Arbor real estate universe and recent star of her most recent and explicit sex fantasies. Her hands shook. She took a long, deep breath, squared her shoulders and pulled into the parking lot behind the storefront-style real estate office where she worked. After a few more deep breaths, she got out, took her stuff from the backseat and marched inside. After a cup of much-needed expensive coffee, she felt somewhat restored to her old self—the self she’d been only a few hours ago.
He was just a…stupid bro. Probably a mansplainer too. She knew his type. She’d grown up with one as a father after all. He deserved to get hung up on. It probably didn’t happen much, considering. She took a seat at her cubicle, sipped her coffee, and tried to do a reset in her brain. But Jack’s deep, gravelly voice echoed in her ears all day. Which for some reason reminding her of the one thing she hadn’t been able to attain on her own in her almost-thirty years.
Jack put the phone down, grinned and propped his arms behind his head and watched the blonde woman – his new client, he reminded himself – emerge from the bathroom. From out of nowhere he was blindsided by the fact that he wanted it to be Sara standing there with a satisfied expression on her face.
He got up and made his way towards the bathroom. He had an eleven o’clock closing and needed a shower. The woman, who had an alarming, clingy look in her eyes, gripped his biceps as he passed.
“That was fun, Jack.” Her voice, so sexy and appealing in the last forty-eight hours or so, grated on him now. He turned to face the hot, naked woman now gripping his cock, and tried to find the words appropriate for the “thanks-for-the-fuck-now-leave” moment they were about to share. His visceral desire to feel Sara’s body under his practiced hands was making him insane. But he’d resisted, being a real gentleman about it, if he said so himself. Keeping his distance, observing her, while asking around. But the time had come – time to make his move.
