by CJ Roberts
As one of the few chosen to populate the downtown storefront office, based upon her good looks and the ability to rope in new buyers and sellers off the streets of Ann Arbor, Sara had serious sales skills. He’d studied the branch’s numbers as part of a decision-making process, ultimately turning down the offer to manage that stable of prima donnas. 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 permeated the air? Jack’s heart thumped in his ears.
“Um, hi Jack.” Her voice was hoarse, making him blink. He made a conscious effort to wipe the idiotic look off his face, aware of the annoying clients crowding his elbow. He held out a hand, dying to confirm that her skin felt as hot as it looked. Surprised no one else saw the sparks pass between them, he couldn’t suppress a grin at the look on her flustered face.
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, at Sara’s shoulder.
Jack gave himself a mental shake. The sudden realization of what had undoubtedly happened, in the very condo he was about to show, made his head pound. Reluctant admiration mixed with something resembling jealousy fogged his brain. He raised his eyebrows at the tall blond man whom he could have sworn was engaged to someone else.
“Jack.” Adam moved around the beautiful woman who still blocked the doorway. “Good to see you.”
Jack shook the guy’s hand, never taking his gaze from Sara, reserving his smile for her. His brain engaged, focus locked on Sara Thornton, and the world shifted under his expensively clad feet.
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. As she tried not to drown in Jack’s deep blue gaze, Sara clenched her jaw, already imagining how he might have done it differently, and likely better.
“Um, hi Jack,” she croaked out. Her face flooded with heat; even more so when she put the keys in his outstretched hand, and yanked herself back at the intensity of their connection. Tall, ruggedly handsome with coal-black hair and a shimmering blue gaze, the man boasted a personality that bested all other males within a fifty-mile radius. Sara only knew of him, of course. They’d never actually met. However, she’d swear right then he seemed happy to see her. The realization made her zing from scalp to toes.
She watched his full lips form words but remained deafened by the roaring in her ears. His gaze never left hers, even when Adam nudged her aside and shook his hand. Her whole universe suddenly shrank to two people. Looking back, she’d pinpoint that as the instant she fell hopelessly in love with an impossible man.
1
Sara sat straight up in the bed, the sheet wrapped around and between her legs, the alarm jangling in her ear. Breathing raggedly, she ran her hand through her sweaty hair and came to grips with the fact that she had been dreaming about Jack Gordon – again. And that she had come in her sleep.
Again.
Damn.
Her mind skipped through the long list of tasks she had to get through that day. 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 few sellers to hand-hold. Not to mention a huge transaction that she was holding together with a glue stick and the sheer force of her will.
How could she have known she’d encounter Ann Arbor’s most successful realtor and eligible bachelor on the same day she’d finally shaken off her losing streak with guys and apparently scored with Adam? Jack’s mischievous grin and deep blue eyes as he had appraised her frazzled, post-inappropriate-intercourse self, had left her speechless that day and haunted her days and nights ever since.
Showered and dressed 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 the to-do list already.
“Hey, Sara, it’s Jack.” The deep voice that had invaded her dreams that morning seared her nerve endings. Sara’s hand suddenly tingled where he’d touched her that day when she’d handed over the condo keys.
“Oh, um, hey there. What’s up?” Laptop forgotten, she slumped against the wall, hearing herself babble.
“I just wanted to tell you about a house I listed.”
Sara tried to calm her breathing and let him fill the silence that ensued.
“Yeah, 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 sort of all over right now.” She swore at herself for sounding like a stupid rookie.
“I know, 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 just that week met a woman who was considering listing her mom’s house – a striking tall blond, who had seemed ready to sign with Sara but had “one more agent to meet first.”
Sara realized at that precise moment who that “one more” must have been. Her face flushed and she was no longer aware of Jack as a desirable man, but as a client-stealing asshole. She stomped to her car, jerked open the door and tossed her stuff into the back.
“Yeah, my uh, client said she knew you, but I guess she liked me better.” He chuckled, ramping her fury up higher.
“Well, whatever. Are you calling to gloat or actually tell me about the house?”
In a flash of disturbing erotic images while she started her car, Sara realized that the stupid blond had likely demanded a piece of Jack’s fine tail in exchange for her listing. She sat, gripping the steering wheel at the red light.
“Oh, 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 three hundred.”
“Oh really,” he teased, perhaps not realizing she was serious. “And why is that, pray tell Miz Thornton.”
“Because, you jerk, ‘it’s Lansdowne’ and I have some credibility there, telling people the value of their houses…and stuff.” She bit the inside of cheek, realizing too late that she’d called him a jerk.
Nice one, Sara, way to impress.
Jack laughed and it sent a spark shooting from the top of her head through her entire body.
“Seriously, I know, I know. I’m just fucking 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 parked behind the downtown building that held her office and got out. “Well?” she shouted into the quiet phone.
“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 really like to get from him. She shook her head, dispelling him, or at least trying to.
“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.
Then Sara Jane Thornton stood and stared at her phone, completely amazed at herself. She’d just hung up on Jack-fucking-Gordon – the goddamned master of the Ann Arbor real estate universe and recent star of her most explicit sex fantasies.
Stomping into her the storefront-style real estate office, Sara took deep breaths and poured a cup of much-needed coffee. Served the asshole right, really. She sipped on her way to the front of the office. But his deep, gravelly voice still echoed in her ears.
Jack grinned and put his arms behind his head. The blonde woman – his new client, he reminded himself – emerged from the bathroom. Suddenly, he badly wanted it to be Sara standing there with a well-fucked look on her face. The woman before him had an alarmingly predatory look in her eyes. He sat up and made his way towards the bathroom. He had an eleven o’clock closing and needed a shower. She gripped his biceps as he passed.
“That was fun Jack.” Her voice, so sultry and appealing in days past grated on his nerves now. He started to remove the hand she’d wrapped around his cock. Talking to Sara on the phone, imagining her smile and those amazing eyes had made him rock hard.
He tried to find the words appropriate for the “thanks for the fuck, now leave” moment he was about to have. His visceral desire to feel Sara’s body under his practiced hands was making him insane. But he had resisted, being a real gentleman about it, if he said so himself. Staying back a bit, just observing her and asking around. But the time had come – time to make his move.
“Yeah, baby it was. But I gotta get going.” Then, in typical fashion, his body took over. “Oh, well, if you insist.” He pressed her up against the doorjamb. As she wrapped herself around him, Jack let his body lead. The lizard part of his brain smothered the part that was about to remind him he was nearly forty, unmarried and unattached, and a little bored with his current lifestyle.
After the near-miss marital fiasco he’d endured out of law school, he’d made a solemn vow: fuck first, questions later. It had worked fairly well. He’d built a reputation, made his first million five years ago without a family to support, and had a virtual black book for which most men would give their left nut.
He sighed and picked the woman up, dropped her onto his bed and proceeded to bring her to screeching orgasm with his lips and tongue before donning a condom and plowing into her body. He shut his eyes at the last moment as his climax roared up from the base of spine. He hoped he didn’t call out Sara’s name because hers was the face he saw beneath him as he came.
2
Sara didn’t even look up as she rounded the corner of the front sales desk, intent on her mission to the printer while simultaneously reading an email on her phone. A strong grip on her arms kept her from running into a wall of strong, blue-suited torso planted smack in the middle of the front office.
When she lifted her eyes they met Jack’s. The look he shot her – a little curious, somewhat questioning, very intense – brought tingles to her scalp. To her knowledge, he’d never even darkened the door of the downtown office before today.
Could he sense she was having sex dreams about him? Did he read her like a damn book even though they weren’t that close, merely fellow realtors at the same company? He had used his amazing charisma and stark, Black-Irish good looks to their full effect through the years. He was a millionaire twice over thanks to them, but had never entered her small orbit until now. His reputation preceded him, and Sara’s mind reeled with tales of female conquests in real estate offices, empty houses and various semi-public places.
“Whoa, hang on! Don’t go so fast. You’re gonna hurt somebody.” He laughed. Sparks flew from his touch straight to her core. His eyes widened, then narrowed, as if sensing her reaction. She made a show of jerking her arm out of his clutches.
“Sell that Lansdowne house yet, big boy?” she threw over her shoulder, eager to get some distance between them before she embarrassed herself. Summoning every ounce of willpower at her disposal, she endeavored not to stare at him as he leaned against the counter in his dark blue suit, French-cuffed shirt and perfectly matched tie. Her brain did its little song and dance routine again reminding her that he was bad – very bad – and her own apparent, unfounded obsession with him had to stop.
“Hell no I haven’t and you know it.”
“So why are you here, if not to aggravate me?” She pretended to fight with the printer. Anything but meet his eyes again.
The sales secretary appeared at her side in a flash. Sara frowned at the simpering look on the young woman’s face as she stared at the man-vision before her.
“Hey Jack.”
Somehow, Sara knew he had fucked her. The girl was practically lying on the counter to get his attention. Of course, he was a sight worth seeing, with that windblown, thick, hair that begged for her fingers.
“What?” He dragged his eyes from Sara. “Oh, hey babe, how are ya?”
Incredible. He doesn’t even remember her name. Sara, avoid this guy like the plague.
Sara’s sales manager chose that moment to emerge from her office. “Jack, to what do we owe this distinct and, no doubt, well-planned honor?” Pam crossed her arms in front of her ample chest, looking pointedly over at Sara then back at him.
“Pamela, good to see you too.” Jack faced her, one elbow still leaning on the counter. “I was just down the street in a meeting with architects. We’re doing that kick-ass renovation over on Washington – mixed-use – retail and condos. Should be done in about a year or so.” He trailed off and looked straight back at Sara who lowered her eyes.
Sara couldn’t concentrate – which pissed her off. She was not about to fall into the guy’s trap. Her brother Blake had filled her ear with warnings about Jack’s bad-news reputation. She had neither excuse nor reason to be infatuated with him. Anyway, she needed to focus on Adam’s closing and the recent hitch in their whirlwind relationship.
Screw Jack.
Oh yeah.
Bad choice of words.
She breezed by him heading back to her desk.
“Bye,” he hollered at her retreating form. “Tell Adam I said ‘hey’.”
That last comment made her turn to look at him. He had one eyebrow raised, still leaning on the counter – a damn advertisement for manly perfection – absolutely the worst possible thing for her. Sara ground her teeth and turned away from him, raising her hand in a mock salute good-bye.
Jack eased himself into the late-afternoon downtown Ann Arbor traffic. The near perfect waning summer day made him crank his car windows down and the satellite radio up. He cursed whatever weak compulsion had led him into Sara’s office. The strange impulses he’d fought for weeks since encountering her at that condo were annoying. He’d done everything he could to quell his need to see her, to touch her, again.
Besides, he reassured himself, he had money in the bank, a woman in his bed. And total frustration rustling around in his brain. The blond client had provided some distraction from his alarming obsession with Sara but had proven to be a real handful lately. She wanted his constant attention, sent him texts all day long, and had seemingly taken a vow to drain every ounce of his sexual energy. He always thought that well was pretty deep, but her clinginess had gotten real old, real quick. A couple of times she’d even pleaded with him to forgo the condom. The second time she’d asked, he’d cut the scene short, furious with her for even considering it. He’d bolted from her place that night, his gut aching with something more than simple unrequited lust.
The phone buzzed on the seat next to him. He sighed.
Back to work.
But his thoughts kept drifting in a Sara Thornton direction. This infatuation or whatever he had buzzing around in his brain was going to kill him if he didn’t do something soon. Her perfume ghosted through his senses. Jack repressed a groan of frustration as he pressed the phone icon on the steering wheel, prepared to handle whatever shi
t storm had developed in the last half of his day. He idly wondered if she realized she was dating a man engaged to be married and made a mental note to stay on top of how that unfolded. She might need a shoulder, and he planned to position himself correctly to provide one, when the need arose.
Sara dressed in her best suit the morning of Adam’s closing. His purchase had been smooth – a real anomaly in today’s real estate market. As a mortgage broker himself, the loan portion had been seamless. Despite her pique at his recent disappearing act, Sara looked forward to seeing him and making up with a bottle of wine in his new expensive space.
What had started as a hot hook-up in the very condo Adam was closing on had led to an intense month of dates, intimate dinners, flowers delivered to her office – the very sort of thing that many nearing-thirty-year-old women would have given a Manolo allowance to have. Sara had loved it, had given in briefly to fantasies of big weddings and suburban McMansions. Her natural tendencies to avoid emotional connection, thanks to her parents’ volatile relationship, had been hard to overcome but she’d been trying.
The fact that Jack-fucking-Gordon, the client stealer, had inserted himself into her dreams and fantasies hadn’t helped one bit, however. Sara had caught herself more than once picturing his bright blue gaze over hers, imagining his hands on her flesh, all while she was supposed to be making love with Adam. Staring at herself intently in the hallway mirror of her small condo, Sara attempted to ignore the little voice that kept reminding her that Adam was not so great in bed. But he’d made up for it with his wildly romantic gestures – at least until recently.
She shrugged off the looming doomsday sensations.
Beggars can’t be choosers. Adam is a great guy and would make a very lovely, stable spouse who would no doubt coach little league and do all the shit your own dad never did.
Sara took a deep breath and tried to get her mind to pinpoint what was truly bugging her as she threw the car into reverse and mentally ran through the reasons she had to avoid a man like Jack and hold onto one like Adam. The conversation she’d initiated with one of the agents who’d known him nearly ten years ran through her brain on a repeat loop.
