by Francis Ray
“They still shudder when they talk about it,” Trent said, shaking his head.
Sierra shot him a look that bounded off. She reached for the door handle. “Come on, Blade.”
Blade looked from Dominique to Trent. They both shrugged. Getting in, Blade fastened his seat belt.
Sierra adjusted the mirrors, fastened her seat belt, then shot him a grin that made him want to grab the key or grip the seat. The motor roared to life. She shifted the car into gear. By the time she came out of the curve of the circular and hit the mile-long driveway, she’d proven the car’s ability to go from 0 to 60 in five seconds.
A speed demon. He should have known.
“Problem, Blade?”
If this was a test, he was going to fail. “You drive fast.”
She laughed and reached for the gearshift. “Handles better than my SUV. I could get used to driving this baby.”
“Not at the speed you’re going,” he said as they came to the two-lane farm-to-market road leading to the freeway.
“I drive fast, but I don’t take chances.” She waited until a late-model truck whizzed by, then pulled onto the road. “I can see why Faith’s brother, Cameron, is a NASCAR driver.”
“He’s on a racetrack,” Blade pointed out as they sped past the heavily wooded area on both sides of the road. The speedometer inched to 90. “You’re not.”
. She patted his leg. “Relax. I just—” She broke off abruptly and slowed.
He jerked upright as far as the seat belt would allow. “What?”
“State trooper. I don’t think they’d let me talk my way out of a ticket any more than that poor guy.” Sierra passed the police and the truck at a sedate 40 MPH. “Fun’s over. I’ll have to test her out another time.”
Blade relaxed only marginally. “I can see why your brothers won’t let you drive their cars.”
She tsked and took the ramp to the George W. Bush Tollway. “That’s just because I put a little scratch on Morgan’s new Mercedes. It was the driver of the eighteen-wheeler’s fault for hogging the road, then making that crazy turn without signaling.”
Blade’s heart stopped, then thumped erratically. “Eighteen-wheeler?”
“Good thing the Benz has good brakes. Just the back end ended up under the trailer.”
Blade swiped his hand over his clammy face. He sucked in one breath, then another.
Keeping her eyes on the busy highway, she didn’t notice Blade’s reaction as she kept to the speed limit and passed a car. “I was in high school and a couple of friends saw the accident and called Luke. My family was there within minutes. The truck driver was yelling it was my fault, how he might get fired. I took it until he called me out of my name and jerked my arm.” She took the ramp to Highway 35.
Blade’s temper spiked. “The bastard!”
“Exactly. I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for kicking him where it would do the most good.” Flicking on the signal, she took the Victory Street exit. “Luke had picked up Morgan and they arrived in time to see what the driver did. When they got through taking him apart, it was my turn. I haven’t had an accident since, but Luke is the only one who’ll let me drive his truck.”
They wanted to protect her. “Is there anything that scares you?”
She stopped in front of Navarone Place and turned to him. Streetlights shadowed her face. Before answering, she gave him the car key. “Yes.”
“What?” he asked, afraid he already knew the answer.
“This. Us.”
Where she had consoled him, he couldn’t do the same. He wouldn’t lie to her. Getting out, he opened her door. They were both quiet on the way to her living quarters. Unlocking her door, she faced him. “What scares you?”
“This. Us.”
The corners of her tempting mouth lifted upward. “Nice to know we’re on the same page.”
Helplessly his arms circled her waist, pulling her to him. “That doesn’t make it the right page.”
“Strange. I kind of thought it did.” She kissed him then, a highly erotic mating of tongues, her breasts pressed against his chest, her thighs against his legs. He was lost in the sweet offering of her body.
Her breathing was labored when she lifted her head. “I have appointments all day tomorrow, then shopping with Dominique. So I might not see you.”
He didn’t like the thought of her speeding around Dallas. “I might need the car. My chauffeur will be at your disposal.”
Her eyebrow quirked. “Change your mind about my driving your car?”
“You changed it for me when you told me about the eighteen-wheeler.” His arms tightened around her waist. “You could have been killed.”
“I didn’t have a scratch.” She held her hand out. “Dominique and I will look great in that car.”
And turn heads wherever they went. He put the key in her hand. “Just make sure I don’t have to have another conversation with Luke.”
“Guaranteed. I have too much in life to look forward to,” she told him softly.
“Even if you’re afraid?” he asked her just as softly.
“Luke always said only a fool fears nothing.” She kissed Blade on the cheek. “Good night.”
“Good night.” The door closed gently. Deep in thought, he went to the elevator. He’d forgotten to find out about the tie on her top. It didn’t matter. Her brother was right in one respect. There would be another time. He’d be a fool if he walked away from Sierra.
From the second Sierra’s feet hit the floor the next morning her day was non-stop, and she loved every minute of it. There was nothing like having the satisfaction of pairing the right people with the right property. She didn’t believe in a hard sale. She wanted her clients to be satisfied before and after they purchased from her.
A little before eleven, she was in her office doing paperwork and waiting for her eleven-thirty appointment when Martin showed up with a tray. Her first appointment had been at seven with an international banker in town on business. His flight to Hong Kong had been at nine thirty. She’d shown him around the property, then taken him to the airport, adhering to the speed limit.
“Martin, I hope that’s for me.”
He smiled with boyish charm. “It is. We want to keep our exclusive broker happy.” He placed the tray on a nearby table, then lifted the domed lid on a grilled chicken salad with honey pecans and a croissant.
“Thank you.” She took the cane-backed seat he held. “This is perfect.”
“This is from Mr. Navarone.” Martin handed her a key on a ring. “A golf cart is available for you to take the clients around the property so they can see the private sanctuary and landscaped pool areas.”
“Navarone Place is the height of luxury, with a focus on outstanding amenities and privacy. If I could afford it, I’d certainly live here part of the time.” She blessed her food, then took a bite of salad.
“Why not all the time?” the chef asked.
“My family is in Santa Fe. Although it is dry and hot, I love the city, the people, the food. I can’t imagine not being able to live there,” Sierra told him, thinking that was one more strike against her and Blade.
“I’ll let you finish your meal.” Martin went to the door. “By the way, Mr. Navarone said that although there’re no speed signs posted, he hopes you’ll keep it to a respectable pace.”
“He can always wish,” she said, knowing Martin would tell Blade. She shouldn’t tease him, but she admitted she liked keeping him on his toes, just as he kept her on hers.
Finished with her salad, she got ready for her next client, a movie star traveling incognito as Ann Frank. The actress was thin, beautiful, and blond. Sierra soon learned “Ann” could be difficult as well.
She took one look at Sierra’s condo and wanted it. “I want this place with all the furnishings,” she said, her long fingers gliding possessively over the curved back of one of the eight Louis XV–style dining-room chairs.
Since Sierra had been around her aunt, Felicia F
alcon, who had wealth and style, she merely nodded her head, glad she had anticipated such a possibility. Without missing a beat she gave the woman the additional $350,000 price tag for the furnishings.
The woman didn’t blink. “Accepted. Of course, I want this unit closed to viewing immediately, and you’ll have to move.”
Again, being around the wealthy who thought their money and their name gave them carte blanche, Sierra kept her expression pleasant. “I’m sorry, but your terms are unacceptable. We’ve only recently begun selling. Prospective buyers deserve to see the possibilities they can accomplish by living in Navarone Place. However, all Navarone Place home owners will have a decorator at their disposal.”
The woman’s blue eyes went cold. “I don’t think you understand. If my terms can’t be met, the sale is off.”
“I understand perfectly.” Sierra went to the front door and opened it. “Thank you for giving us the opportunity of showing you what is destined to be the premiere address in the city, possibly the Southwest. I won’t keep you.”
The woman’s mouth gaped; so did her assistant’s. One of the two bodyguards smiled behind a closed fist. Apparently, “no” wasn’t a word the actress was used to hearing. “Do you know who I am?”
Sierra reeled off the movie star’s stats down to what her last movie had grossed and her paycheck. She always did her homework on her appointees. “The answer is the same.”
The slender woman flipped her crimped hair, drew herself up in a chocolate Chloé double-breasted cropped jacket and pumpkin-colored silk ankle pants. The black leather shoulder bag and platform wedges were by the same couture designer. The outfit easily cost several thousand dollars. Her diamond watch and drop earrings were Cartier. “Wait until Blade hears how you’ve treated me.”
Sierra was unable to mask her start of surprise. The woman smiled. Sierra’s temper spiked. She tapped her voice-activated headset. “Blade.”
He came on almost immediately. “Blade.”
“You’re needed immediately in my quarters. A client wishes to speak with you.” Sierra disconnected the call before he could ask any questions. “He’s on his way.”
The woman handed the large bag to her assistant, then went to stand by the French doors. It took Sierra a few moments to understand she was posing for the best effect. The bright morning sun turned her golden permed hair into a halo; her face looked angelic.
Behind Sierra, the door opened abruptly. Blade came through, looking drop-dead gorgeous and dangerous. His gaze took in the room in one encompassing sweep and zeroed in on her. By the look on her face, he knew she was steaming. “Are you all right?”
Sierra bit down on the jealousy threatening to choke her. Blade had been with that woman, and how many others before her?
“Sierra?”
“Blade,” the actress purred, still poised by the French doors.
He threw a fleeting look at the woman. “Why did you call me?”
“She refused to sell me the furnished condo and move out,” the woman told him, finally moving closer to him when it didn’t appear as if he’d come to her. “I told her how unhappy you would be.”
“You’re right. I am.” He kept his gaze on Sierra. “Do I need to tell you how to handle this?”
“I told you Blade wou—”
“I’m the exclusive broker, not Blade,” Sierra said, cutting the woman off. Either she was in charge or she was walking. “It goes without saying that the caliber of people seeing the estate would not abuse it and neither would I. If you wish to still purchase this property and its furnishings, we can talk. Otherwise, this conversation is over. Have a nice trip home.”
“Blade, are you going to let her talk to me that way?” the woman pouted.
“Yes,” he told her. “Have a nice trip.”
“Your loss. Both of you!” She huffed out of the room with her assistant and two bodyguards following.
Blade folded his arms and stared down at Sierra. “You make me happy and sad.”
“I don’t like ultimatums,” she said.
His arms unfolded to take hers. “You also didn’t like it that she tried to use knowing me to get her way. I’m glad you were a little jealous, but saddened that you didn’t just tell her to go to hell.”
“I thought about it,” she admitted.
“So why didn’t you?” She clamped her teeth together and looked away. “Sierra?” Blade gently shook her. “We both have work we need to get to.”
“I wanted to see how you’d react, what you’d do when you saw her,” she finally admitted.
“And?”
She lifted her eyes to his. “You didn’t pay her any attention. You just looked at me.”
“Because you’re the only woman I’m interested in.” He brushed his lips across her forehead. “And just so you know, she and I were never an item. You’re the first woman I’ve taken out in a number of years that I wanted to see again.”
She discovered she was possessive enough not to want any women before her. But that wouldn’t be realistic. He was with her now. “I’ve always been lucky.”
He kissed her again. “I’m expecting a call from the foreman in Mexico. I’d better get back.”
“Blade,” she said when he was at the door. “You know you just turned down a six-million-dollars-plus sale?”
“But I kept someone priceless,” he said; then he was gone.
“Oh, Blade,” Sierra said softly. “Don’t make me fall in love with you,” she whispered, afraid it was already too late.
ELEVEN
Sierra’s day continued at its frantic pace. She’d just seen her last appointment to the elevator when her cell phone rang. “Sierra Grayson.”
“Ms. Grayson, this is Ross at Checkpoint One. There is a Mr. Robert Harrison the Third here. He wants to see if he might come up just for a moment.”
Checkpoint One was at the elevator on the first floor. Sierra glanced at her watch. Five forty-five. She was supposed to pick up Dominique in fifteen minutes. Impossible even if she tested her luck, or her stupidity, as the case might be in the Maserati.
“The gentleman said he would really appreciate it. He doesn’t live in the city,” Ross continued.
“I’ll be right down.” Sierra disconnected the call. She’d make the decision once she met Harrison. Grabbing her purse, she headed for the elevator. During its descent, she called Dominique to tell her she was running late.
Stepping off, Sierra saw a man who appeared to be in his early sixties sitting in a chair. Two slender young auburn-haired women in animal-print tulle halter sundresses that shouted couture stood on either side of him. The man’s hands were propped on top of a walking cane. Seeing her, he came slowly to his feet. Both of the young women reached out their hands as if to steady him if necessary. It wasn’t.
“Sierra Grayson, exclusive broker, Mr. Harrison.” She extended her hand, careful of his. It was calloused. Although the handshake was limp, she sensed a strength about him.
His gaze went to her shoulder bag. He leaned heavily on the cane. “Ms. Grayson, since I don’t have an appointment, I’ll talk fast. These are my twin daughters, Paula and Darla.”
Sierra nodded to the two women. They returned the greeting.
“They’ve been accepted at the University of Texas Medical School, a short distance from here,” Mr. Harrison said. “I might be old-fashioned, but I want to make sure they’re safe and I don’t see much sense in paying rent for four years with no benefit.”
“I agree with you on both counts, but I have an appointment,” Sierra said. “I’d be glad to send you information on the properties available.”
“Ms. Grayson, flying is rough on this arthritic body and before my girls stay anyplace, I want to see it, but I understand and I thank you for taking time to talk with me. Good day.” He slowly turned and both daughters flanked him as he took slow steps across the wide lobby.
A father’s love. Sierra had lost her father when she was an infant and had never experi
enced that kind of total devotion. “Wait.” She went to them. “I can cancel the appointment if you’d like to come up.”
Mr. Harrison stared at her. “What changed your mind?”
“Your love for your daughters,” she said. “If you’ll come this way, I’ll show you the estates.”
“Thank you.”
On the way upstairs, she called Dominique, who understood. Her own father had been the same way when she went to college.
“Here we are,” Sierra said, and opened the door, well aware that the first sight they’d see would be the breathtaking Dallas skyline at sunset through the huge picture windows and the French doors leading to the terrace.
“It’s beautiful,” one of the twins whispered.
“And secure,” Sierra said, placing her handbag on the sofa. “A doorman will be on duty twenty-four hours and the elevators need key cards to access. Each residence will feature a priority phone with direct access to the twenty-four-hour manned security located in the building. The gated access garage will have twenty-four/seven security as well.”
“That takes a load off my mind,” Mr. Harrison said.
“The great room is twenty by thirty. You’ll note the hand-carved crown molding, imported crystal chandeliers, and twenty-foot ceilings throughout.”
Sierra moved to the kitchen. “Here we have built-ins with under-the-counter lighting, can lights, stainless-steel appliances, and hand-carved and -finished cherry cabinets with glass fronts.” She stopped to open the side-by-side built-in refrigerator. Thanks to Martin and Jenkins, it was fully stocked. “If you like to entertain or just like space, this is the perfect place. Now if you’ll please follow me, I’ll show you the elegant master suite. It has double crown molding, a ceiling fan and a chandelier, and a sitting area with a wood-burning fireplace.”
Sierra stopped just off the master suite and opened a white six-panel door. “Cedar closet for your furs.”
The twins grinned at their father. He smiled back. Sierra noticed the exchange. So he did spoil them.
“The other two bedrooms are almost as spacious with their own bath with travertine shower and flooring, jet tub, and walk-in closet.” She continued down the hall and pushed the door open. The twins’ eyes rounded at the luxurious room. “Feel free to look around. Please note the handblown crystal chandeliers in the bathroom and another sitting area and fireplace.”
