She gaped at him. “Wait a second, are you Larry Arbuckle?” Because he sure didn’t look the way she expected. A guy like him should have a name like Malcolm Steele or one like those famous models.
“I am Mr. Arbuckle. Here to meet with Blake Jenners.”
She felt all kinds of stupid for her accusation. “Ah shoot. I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassed now.” Indeed, her cheeks heated, a surely lovely shade of tomato red. Some women looked coy and cute when they blushed. She appeared to be having an allergic reaction.
To his credit he ignored the fact her face might explode. He smiled, looking perfectly put together, with every hair in place—a temptation that demanded ruffling—jaw smooth shaven, pea coat not holding a single speck of lint. “Perhaps as an apology, you’ll now have dinner with me.”
The guy never stopped trying. “Still not interested.” She turned before he could see the lie. “Nor is it allowed because of company rules.” She led the way down a carpeted hall to a door missing a plaque.
She didn’t knock before opening and knew what he’d see the moment he walked in: a modest-sized space with a wooden desk, a sideboard with a display of flowers, and a pair of chairs. Not the deep plush ones seen in the bigger offices. Not for the newest associate.
Arbuckle glanced up the hall before following her inside. He inclined his head toward the empty chair behind the desk. “Is Mr. Jenners running late?”
Just as she was about to correct Mr. Arbuckle, he turned and wandered to the wall to look at the degrees.
She waited. Noticed his frown.
“Hey, how is it that, according to the BBI Realty website, Mr. Jenners is listed as having been in the real estate game since being licensed in nineteen eighty-three. And yet this”—he jabbed a finger at the framed document on the wall—“is dated less than five years ago.” He spun as he finished asking.
She took a seat behind the desk. “Because that’s my degree.”
“You’re Blake Jenners?”
“If I were a son, you’d add junior,” she remarked, hands folded in front of her.
“I didn’t realize… None of the company info indicated he had a daughter.” His brow remained creased.
“An error on our part. I’ve only recently begun working here for my dad. They haven’t updated the website yet.”
“I see.”
“Is working with me going to be a problem?” She kept her tone level and measured, as he continued to have a serious mien.
“Yes,” he admitted finally.
Before she could tell him to shove his misogyny, he said the one thing to steal her voice. “If we work together, then we can’t have dinner.”
“On the contrary. We can have dinner. Lunch. Even breakfast if you like,” she sang with a smile. “We just won’t be doing anything other than eating and business.” No sleeping with clients. Ever.
“Is that a dare?” he asked in a deep rumble.
“Most certainly not.”
“Maybe I should mention the fact I don’t always like to follow the rules.”
“You will if you intend to do business with us.”
“You mean do business with you.”
“Are you incapable of seeing women as anything other than sex objects?”
He coughed before managing a raspy, “I assure you it’s never been a problem before.”
“Meaning what?” She suffered under no illusions. She was pretty, yes, but not a thin girl by any means. Not fat either, just padded all over. Big boned as they used to say.
“Meaning there is something about you, Blake, that I find very intriguing.”
She startled, mostly because he sounded surprised. As if he couldn’t figure it out either. “I’m sure you won’t think that once you get to know me.”
“On the contrary, the more you talk, the more I find myself fascinated. And attracted.” His gaze wandered, and she squirmed in her seat.
The man truly was too sexy for his own good.
He was also trying too hard. It made no sense. She cleared her throat. “Mr. Arbuckle.”
“Larry.”
“Mr. Arbuckle,” she enunciated. “I take it by your continued insistence on flirting that we won’t be able to work together.” She stood. “I’ll see if I can find someone else to handle you.”
“Don’t bother. I want you.”
She knew he meant for real estate, and yet there was that stupid flutter again. “If you wish to hire me as your agent, then you’ll have to stop flirting.”
“Why?” Again, he smiled, and the tingle spread.
“Because it’s not appropriate.”
“Not appropriate would be me kissing you.”
Her lips rounded. Why did he have to suggest it? Her gaze went to his mouth. She mentally shook herself. “No kissing.”
“Unless there’s mistletoe, then it’s kind of mandatory.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She wondered where to find some mistletoe. She cleared her throat. “Now that we’ve come to an agreement, let’s talk properties.”
“No need. I already emailed about the one I’m interested in.”
“The Grizzly Lake Chalet has been sold.”
“Conditionally,” he remarked.
She frowned. “How do you know that? It’s not general knowledge.”
“I have my ways. The fact there are conditions still pending means I have wiggle room.”
“Barely. I expect to hear it’s been sold in the next few days. There are other properties I can show you.”
He shook his head. “I know what’s on the market. I don’t want them. I want the Grizzly.”
“You know what Mick Jagger says.”
“I do. And I’m still going to insist on seeing the place.”
Since he couldn’t actually buy it, it wouldn’t hurt to show him. After all, the owner wasn’t in residence. Hadn’t been for years. They’d had to stage the home for showings.
“Tell you what, I’ll show you the chalet, but keep in mind you won’t be able to buy unless the other deal falls through.” Which didn’t seem likely. Then again, who asked for a home inspection on a home worth five point seven million? The buyer even wanted a survey done on the possibility of avalanches.
“When can we go?”
“How about right now?”
“And how will we get there? Because I don’t ride the bus.” There was a taunt in the query.
She had the reply. “We’ll take my car, of course.”
“Since when do you drive?”
“Since the garage finally got the missing part and fixed it. I picked it up last night.”
“What happened to not driving with strange men?”
“That was yesterday when you were the creepy guy I met on the sidewalk. Today, I know your name and where you live. So does Becky at the front desk.”
“In other words, no killing you and dumping the body?”
If he’d meant to shock her, he’d failed. “Given I know the city better, chances are it’s you they’d never find.”
The threat only made him laugh louder.
She checked in with Becky on the way out, and while the receptionist did her best to flirt, he appeared immune. Which surprised her. Becky had the kind of looks men drooled over.