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  Though I had every intention of confronting Audrey right now about our history and clearing the air, my hand stills on the handle of the French door. In the water by the dock, Audrey floats on her back, her curvy body pale against the dark water. The red and white bikini is every bit as sexy as I thought it would be on her. As if she senses my greedy eyes on her, she flips, dives under for a few seconds, and then swims toward the dock with a leisurely breast stroke, her head bobbing above the water.

  And naturally that reminds me again of the sight of Audrey’s head bobbing back and forth in front of my hips. How good she was with her mouth. Then she reaches the ladder and pulls herself up, water streaming off her. Her bikini bottoms are pushed low on her hips, and the halter seems wholly inadequate to contain her breasts. They look ready to escape any minute. My balls draw up, and the semi-boner I’ve been carrying around all morning becomes a full-blown situation. It doesn’t help to remind myself what she did. If anything, thinking about it only dredges up the way it hurt more than it should have when I found out who she really was.

  She made me feel like a fool for thinking there was anything more than casual friendship and mutual attraction between us. Even still, I want to be wrong about that night, even when I know I’m not. If I were, she would have stayed. If there were something other than a knife in the back to that story, she’d have called. And she didn’t. But being right doesn’t make me want her less.

  She wrings out her hair and pulls it over her shoulder in a thick rope. I can almost feel its silky texture between my fingertips. That night, it was all about blind touch, sensation. In the darkness and tension of being in public, the smoothness of the skin on her jaw, the softness of her lips on me, and oh god, the taste of her on my fingers—those little sensory details were so powerful. On the dock, Audrey spreads a towel, lies face down, and unfastens her top at the back and neck. Fuck me.

  I rub absently at the hard ridge in my pants, getting harder as I stare at her, spread out, right there in front of me. She shifts on her towel, spreading her legs a little. This was one of the ways I wanted to have her, one of the dirty secrets I whispered in her ear as we huddled together outside that Christmas party. I wanted to worship the little hollow at the base of her spine with kisses, to bury myself in her while palming her beautiful ass. Dammit, I thought I’d left this behind, but seeing her again—seeing more of her than I did even the night I blew my load in her willing mouth—is screwing with me. I need to get this out of my system now, before I foul up another showing. I could jerk off right here, watching her. She’d never know, and this aching need would be gone, at least for now. I apply more pressure, stroking down to cup my balls and back up. Yeah. A healthy wank is exactly what I need to recover my A-game.

  I’ve unbuckled my belt and am about to rub one out—and tires crunch on the gravel drive. The fuck? I don’t have another client until tomorrow. I hastily cinch back up. Maybe Feng Shui Todd changed his mind and wants to make an offer.

  No such luck.

  I peer out the peephole at the couple looking around the grounds. Middle aged white couple driving a dark green Jaguar. He’s wearing a well-tailored suit and she’s in a casual dress, but there’s a sizable sparkle at her earlobes and a respectable set of pearls at her neck. Wealthy, but not flashy. They have to be Audrey’s, since I’ve never seen them before, but it’s not like her to just blow off a scheduled showing. Whatever. I open the door.

  “Good morning, I’m Caleb Mercer. Come on in. Can I get you some water?” Dammit, I wonder where those muffins are.

  “Graham Walton, and this is my wife Diane. I’m sorry we’re so early, but I’m unfamiliar with the area and didn’t want to be late. It looks like I overshot by half an hour at least.” We shake hands.

  “Is Audrey available?” Diane asks. “Even though we’re early, we have an appointment with her. She should be expecting us.”

  I give them my warmest smile. “Oh, sorry for the confusion. We’re both realtors, representing the sellers. Audrey’s around, but I’m not sure what she’s doing.” I lean in conspiratorially. “Time gets away from her sometimes.”

  They smile uncertainly. I feel a twinge of guilt, but tell myself I’m handling this awkward situation as well as possible. It’s not my fault Audrey decided to take off her bathing suit top and lie around in the sun. I pull out my wallet and hand them each a card.

  “Tell you what, why don’t we take a look around, and when she, ah, finishes up whatever it is she’s doing, she can join us?”

  They exchange a glance and agree, so I show them the ground floor rooms. I might be feeling a little smug. On our way upstairs, they stop short as Audrey dashes through the French doors, freshly soaked from a final dip in the lake, it seems. Her hair hangs in limp, sopping lines, dripping onto the towel wrapped loosely around her. My dick swells instantly, as if she has some witchy power over it. Or it could be the fact that she’s half naked under that towel, smells of sunshine, and looks like she just stepped out of the shower. Another activity I’d planned for us that night.

  Focus, dammit.

  She gasps. “Mr. and Mrs. Walton! I—I wasn’t expecting you quite yet. Please excuse me, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.” A deep flush spreads over her chest and up her neck.

  “Well, we were a little early,” Diane says.

  “No need to apologize, Audrey. We all make mistakes.” I walk over and curve and arm around her back, pinning her arm and pulling her against my side. She jerks a little, but I hold firm. “Don’t worry, I took care of them for you. I’ve shown Graham and Diane the ground floor, and we can just take a look at the rest of the house while you get some clothes on.” I look down and raise my eyebrows slightly, and the blush covers the rest of her face. I try not to smirk. My fingers itch to caress her damp skin.

  “Graham and Diane, I think you’re going to just love the lake. Let me get changed and I’ll take you down there. I want to be sure to properly show off the set up down at the dock.” She smiles at the couple and shakes off my arm. “I’ll be with you in just a minute, okay?”

  “Oh sure, take your time,” Graham says warmly. Diane shoots him an icy look.

  Audrey rushes off toward the master bedroom, and I’m left with Diane and Graham, the latter of whom is shifting his weight awkwardly. Ten to one he’s thinking about what’s under her towel, too. The way Diane’s mouth purses, she guesses the same thing.

  “Oh hey, I think Audrey made some muffins if I can find them. Can I get you one?” I shove my hands in my pockets and grin like a yokel at the county fair. I won’t pretend I’m not enjoying this after my own showing went so badly.

  Graham opens his mouth, but Diane interrupts. “No thank you. We’ll just admire the lake while we wait.”

  “Okay, but I’m here if you need me.” This time Diane is the one with indiscreet eyes. The heat in her appraising look takes me by surprise, even though I’m used to attention from women. Such a lovely couple.

  “I’ll let you know,” she says.

  Graham takes her arm and guides her the tall windows. She glances over her shoulder at me, but the effect is ruined when her foot skids on the floor. With a squawk, she flails about and pitches forward in the attempt to keep her balance. Graham stops her ungainly fall, though she whacks him with a mean backhand and nearly takes him down with her.

  “Diane, are you okay?” Struggling not to laugh, I rush over. “Oh no, Audrey must have dripped. You know, I’m always telling her to be careful. You’re not hurt, are you? Here, I’ll get something to clean that up.”

  “Too late now,” she snaps. Graham holds her gingerly, now the model husband. She swats his hand away.

  I walk over to grab some paper towels from the kitchen anyway and check the oven. Score. “Found the muffins!” I call cheerfully.

  When I stroll back over to offer the paper towels and muffin, Graham and Diane have the look.

  “Look, man,” Graham starts, “Can you just let Audrey know we had to go? It
looks like you guys aren’t quite ready to show this house, so we’re going to just cut it short today. We’ve got another appointment in just a little while anyway.” He begins ushering Diane toward the door. “Tell Audrey we’ll be in touch.”

  Yeah, right. Just like Feng Shui Todd. I’m not proud of it, but there’s a petty satisfaction in her having lost a prospective buyer right after I did.

  As their tires crunch on gravel again, Audrey bursts out of her room in linen pants and a towel wrapped around her chest. Black bra straps peek above the towel.

  “Oh my god, they just left in the middle of the showing,” she groans. “What did you tell them, Caleb?”

  “Obviously that we’re both serial killers,” I retort. “I showed them the ground floor, beautifully.”

  “I’m serious, Caleb. What did they say?”

  “That they’d be in touch.”

  “Fat chance.”

  I incline my head in agreement.

  “What did you tell them about me not being here? Shit! I can’t believe this happened.” She tries to run her hand through her tangled, wet locks, but stops to clutch the towel against her more closely.

  “They said they were early, so I said I’d show them around until you joined us. That’s all I said.”

  “That’s it? Seriously, Caleb, then why are they just leaving when I said I’d be out in a second?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “People don’t just walk out. There has to be something. They had to say something. You had to have said something. I know how competitive you are.”

  “Hey, I’m not the one who poached someone’s dream job, but by all means, continue insinuating that I did something shady.”

  “Don’t even go there. Not right now, because I have no patience for it. Dammit, I can’t believe I screwed that up. They were so early! If I’d had five more minutes, I could have been ready.” She plops down on the sleek sofa and drops her forehead in one hand. The other still holds up the towel. I feel like a freaking loser for hoping it will fall.

  Maybe in penance for my dirty thoughts, maybe because I’m actually not a total asshole, I sit next to her. Friendly and close, the way things used to be. It makes me want to comfort her. Something in me can’t stand to see her this way, regardless of what she did.

  “Oh, relax. Come on, if you think about it, you know those two weren’t going to buy. We’ve all seen the looky-loos before. They’ve talked about buying a lake house forever, and every few years they jerk around some poor realtors who do the research and find out they’re loaded. So they bounce around, getting courted like a pretty girl on Tinder, and in the end decide it’s not quite time for that particular dream. A few more years maybe.”

  She laughs, finally. A hint of tears thickens her voice, but when she picks her head up, she’s in control. That’s my girl, I almost say. But she’s not, and she never was. I’m not sure why I can’t seem to remember that today.

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. They do fit the window-shopper profile.” She gazes out toward the lake, and I stare at her full lips, perky little nose, and the long lashes that frame her large, dream-filled eyes. “I just really need this sale. It’s—I mean it’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting into. Real estate has never been gentle, but this is brutal. I’m good at my job, I know that. But you know, I’ve got a certain niche. And I’m just not sure I’ll ever pull in the kind of numbers they want.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  She looks at me, startled.

  “Look, Audrey. You’re right, you’re good at your job. You’re still building a new pipeline and network over there. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You always did that.”

  As if she too has forgotten for now what passed between us, she sighs and lets her head fall on my shoulder. Washed clean in the crisp lake, Audrey smells only of herself, toasted in the sun. I imagine the next Chanel scent: Audrey’s Skin. Irresistible to all men.

  The towel slips in the back, revealing even more skin. I widen my knees to accommodate my swollen dick, and my thigh bumps against hers. She doesn’t move it. Her wet hair tickles the side of my neck, and I turn my head slightly as I raise my hand to the smooth skin between her shoulder blades. She sighs a little as I rub slow, soothing circles on her back.

  She’s got to be feeling this. It feels so natural. My palm tingles where it touches her back. My chin rests against her head, and my breath goes shallow. She snuggles in closer, her cheek settling against me. Her breath warm on my neck. My hand moves slower on her back, crossing the line from comforting to sensual. The chemistry from that night, the way months of friendship burst into flame, all of it pulls at me until I feel stretched tight. God, I hope she’s feeling it, too. My balls are drawn up tighter than a drum and I’m going to kiss her.

  Her phone pings.

  She sits up. Checks it.

  “Shit, my next client is early, too. They’re ten minutes away.”

  My hand falls. I force slow breaths.

  Audrey stands up, pulling the towel taut again. “All right, we’ve got to clear the air, or this weekend will be unbearable.”

  “Absolutely.” I clear my throat to buy time. We never spoke about that night. Never tried to mend the friendship—or the almost more. “We definitely need to discuss what’s going on here.”

  “Honesty is always the best policy. Right. If we don’t talk it out, there will only be more problems.” She sighs and purses her lips, this tic she has when thinking that pushes her bottom lip out and a little to the side. “Guess I better get some clothes on before my next buyer gets here.”

  I pace to the lakeside windows and back again, touching the backs of the leather bucket chairs as I go like a kid playing duck-duck-goose. Clearing the air can only mean one thing. I’m sure of it. I change my mind and head to the kitchen to make coffee. God knows I could use a drink, but coffee will do.

  Honesty, she said. She wants to talk about the night she sucked me off and then crushed my spirit. About the intense attraction we felt for one another that never went away. She wants to talk about the tension between us now that’s threatening to explode into…something I don’t want to name.

  So I’ll give her honesty, which is more than she ever gave me, and see what happens. Even now, I want to believe she’s the person I almost-maybe-someday could have fallen for. You know, in other circumstances. My heart quickens again when her footsteps sound in the hall, and I walk back to the main room as she sashays into view. Her auburn hair is loose on her shoulders, beginning to dry. She’s wearing a long, silvery gray skirt with a barely-off-the-shoulder peasant top. It’s so like her, and on anyone else it would be lame. But on her it’s sexier than if she walked out in a thong and pasties. I don’t know how she does that. It’s like every time she leaves my sight, I want her more the next time I see her.

  “Okay, so I think I’ve got it figured out.”

  Her abrupt pronouncement punctures and deflates my sensual thoughts. There’s zero romance in her voice.

  “We agree now and moving forward not to speak to each other’s clients unless it’s unavoidable, and not to be physically around when they arrive. There’s a small corner on the east side of the veranda that’s semi-hidden. It’s a comfortable, mostly hidden spot that most buyers won’t poke into, mostly likely. We can be professional; I have complete confidence in that, at least. We’ll play fair, limit personal contact, and generally try to stay out of each other’s way.”

  “Uh, yeah. Exactly what I was thinking.” I match her crisp tone with a neutral face and flat voice.

  She shoots me a glance. “Okay, then. My next client just texted from the end of the drive, so…”

  “Right.”

  I fix a cup of coffee in the kitchen, removing the pot mid-stream and filling my cup with the strong first brew, then replace the pot for Audrey and her client. Audrey’s cheerful voice greets someone at the door as I slip out. My phone in my palm, I sink into the cushioned wicker chair in the nook Audr
ey mentioned. For kicks, I take a shot of the lake, tag it #forsale, #luxury, and #nofilter, and post it to my firm’s social media accounts with my contact info. You never know.

  5

  In the secluded silence of the house, I hear Audrey’s voice as she and the client stroll through. The other voice is feminine as well, and when they wander down toward the lake, I see that she’s a silver-haired but spry woman in slacks and a silk blouse that has a big bow at the neck. On the dock, Audrey gestures broadly toward the lake, and the woman looks at it for what seems like a long time. A breeze picks up, lifting strands of Audrey’s hair and pressing her skirt against her legs. I pull back behind the stone arch when they begin climbing the path to the house, even though sheer curtains screen me.

  Their voices carry, and as they draw close, words become clear.

  “We were always supposed to retire to the country,” she says. “And in particular, living on a lake was John’s dream. We worked up from next to nothing, you know. You’d never guess it to look at him, before he passed last year. But he worked so hard all the time. For five years he said he was going to retire. But he never could leave his business behind and I guess we waited too long.”

  She sniffles, and Audrey’s soothing voice murmurs indistinctly.

  “Thank you, sweetheart. I’m okay. It’s been a year now, and I’m ready. He left me shares in the business and life insurance, and I can live wherever I want. I think—no, I know he would have wanted that. I want to settle down somewhere that makes me think of him, but I need to be somewhere new, apart from the space we shared. Somewhere like this.”

  “That’s a lovely way to honor your time together,” Audrey says. They’ve drawn close enough to hear her now as well.

  Careful not to move the gauzy curtains, I peek around the column. Audrey’s hair has dried and glints with fiery highlights in the sun. She’s smiling, and I think how long it’s been since I’ve seen her that way. She’s so beautiful. The faint smile lines that seem to draw up the corners of her mouth over her adorable, almost-dimpled chin, the way her eyes crinkle at the corners—that’s real. And the way the client responds, Audrey’s not selling her something she doesn’t want. She’s helping someone find what she’s looking for. Even if it’s not this one, Audrey will find that woman a place to feel at home with her memories. In this business where so much is façade, maybe she has always been the real thing, and I just lost the ability to recognize it.