Page 12 of Flirty Thirty

Allowing myself a little laughter over the thought, I clack my way into the formal sitting room and set my keys and purse on top of a polished white side table. The window runs from ceiling to floor, providing the room with a view of the city below. I don’t blame him for wanting to look at the place—it has a je ne sais quoi outside of the lavish layout and fine furniture that gives a person a sense of calm and serenity. If I was a billionaire, I’d want something like this—but unlike Cooper’s stubborn hide, I’d build one specifically made for me.

Speaking of stubborn billionaires, a mud-ridden truck pulls through the front gate, squeaking to a stop behind my—by comparison—teeny tiny VW bug. I squint, trying to decide what color the truck is under all the muck; I’m guessing deep purple? Deep enough to almost pass as black if it weren’t for the sun streaking down against the hood.

Cooper shuts the loud engine off, cranking the door open and hopping from the truck’s height. An involuntary gulp threatens in my throat, and I press a hand over my chest to calm the sudden skips in my heartbeat. It’s ridiculous—these juvenile reactions to a man I know isnotfor me, but his candidness earlier has awakened a playfulness that finds little harm in playing the game, even if there is no winner at the end of it.

I take a deep breath to calm the flutters and put on a winning smile. Cooper gets to the front door before I do, poking his head in and meeting my smile with one that would blow the panties off any innocent bystander.

“Afternoon.”

“On time,” I reply for lack of something clever to say. “I like that in a client.”

He steps inside and flips his keys around his forefinger until he gets them settled into the front pocket of his jeans. “I’ve shown enough of my own houses to know what a pain it is to have to leave for showings.”

“Thoughtful.”

“Just another one of my finer qualities for you to consider,” he says, leaning into me as he passes. I purse my lips to refuse him the satisfaction of amusing me with his arrogance. But it doesn’t quiet the unsteady rhythm that’s returned to my heart the moment his warm breath rushes over my shoulder. Damn him.

“Well, look at that view,” he says, and I shake myself out of the daze I’m falling into and chant the dollar amount I’m hoping to get from this whole thing.Professionalism, Maya. Learn to use it.

Cooper crosses his arms over his white t-shirt, the muscles near his elbows are veined indicators that he either works a lot with his hands or he has a personal trainer—or is one. I fix the flowy hem of my blouse so that it hides my midsection roll more effectively.

He stands in front of the window and admires my personal favorite perk of the place while I confidently step up beside him.

“It’s reflective,” I inform him, veering into my realtor mode, imagining sunny vacation spots as soon as I get my commission. “Feel free to forgo the drapes.”

His shoulders jerk with a hint of laughter. “Or parade around in the nude.”

Mother of all sweet images. I fold my arms to stop the onslaught of jitters that run through my stomach just at the visual of Cooper in the emperor’s new clothes, standing like Mr. Clean in front of this giant window while some innocent passerby hasn’t a clue to the show they’re missing.

I clear my throat. “Can’t do that with a bunch of kids running around.”

“Exactly.” He leans to the side, his face creeping close enough to mine that I can count the individual tiny hairs along his jaw. “Gotta get that in before they get here. Stripped Sundays.”

I bite back a grin. He has a much cleverer name for his own personal naked time. I plan on stealing it next “Stripped Sunday.”

“How many floors?” he asks, turning from the window and crossing toward the stairs. After a few tripped steps to catch up with him, I slip my heels off near the front door.

“There’s a basement, main level, second level, and a master suite that is the entire third floor. There’s an attic as well.”

He lets out a long whistle, pulling himself up the stairs using the banister. He takes them two at a time, and my plump and short legs scurry to keep up with his daddy long ones.

He stops at the second floor for only a moment, grinning as I let out a long breath as I reach the top, and then he starts down the hall. “Where’s this third level staircase?”

“Not sure.” I push open one of the doors that leads to a bigger-than-my-kitchen bathroom. “Did you want to see these rooms first?”

He shakes his head, blue eyes lifting to the ceiling. “I wanna see top to bottom.” His gaze takes a swift turn toward me. “Just my style.”

I wait for his stare to drop, hitching my hand on my hip in faux annoyance at his entendre, even though I’m enjoying them more and more, never having had this sort of attention directed toward me. But I warn myself to err on the side of caution until I can get a thorough background check on him—not that I am toying with ideas of actually giving in and agreeing to a date with the man.

He surprises me once more by not letting his eyes travel south, and he turns, starting down the hall again. My hand falls from my waist, and I blink against the surprising disappointment crawling through me. He starts opening random doors, and I join him, internally shouting at myself. I open doors to so many lavishly decorated rooms that I lose count after six.

“You’ll definitely have room to grow,” I say with an amused grin after shutting the door to another bedroom.

He laughs, and the sound swoops through my chest, and I bite my lip, forcing myself not to get giddy over the fact that I made that laugh happen.

“Ah,” he says, distracting me from the doorknob I was about to try. He steps through the door he just opened, and I secretly appreciate the fact he’s not insisting I lead him up. The curved stairwell is narrower than a standard staircases, and wiggling my plushed-out rearend in his face doesn’t sound appealing to me in the slightest. The very opposite, very tight, very manly view he’s providing me, however…

“Well,” he says, letting out a long sigh as he steps into the master suite. “That’s disappointing.”

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