Page 7 of Flirty Thirty

“Grabubble,” I growl, the intelligible expletive covered by the ding of the elevator hitting Parks’ floor. I hurriedly fasten my hair at the nape with my elastic, unable to see the outcome as the reflective surface disappears into the walls.

“Maya,” my boss says, an unusual smile set on his clean-shaven face. It’s not as if Garrison and I don’t get along; it’s just normally, business is business, and I don’t get a such a friendly greeting. My eyes drift from my boss’s rare grin and stop on the man sitting in front of Garrison’s massive desk. I step off the elevator, wobbling in my carelessly strapped on heels. Cooper rises from his seat, a dimple creasing in his cheek. I’m reminded of the first time I saw that sucker, and I clench my knees together.

“Mr. Sterling, this is Maya Baker.” Garrison chuckles. “Is she who you’re looking for?”

My eyes widen, my spine straightening. Paranoia will kill me some day. I curl my shaky fingers into balls, begging them to calm down long enough to shake Cooper’s hand. His skin is rough, nothing I’d expect from a billionaire. Then again, his attire isn’t what I’d expect either.

“Nice to formally meet you,” he says with a knowing grin, one that makes my skin run a degree hotter, but my blood ice over. I still have no clue what to think of him, and if he thinks money and a rugged demeanor will drop my guard, he better think again.

“Maya,” Garrison interrupts as Cooper drops my hand, “Mr. Sterling is looking for a property up on Rose Summit.”

My eyes swivel to Cooper, who finds my expression laugh-worthy.

“It’s a long story, but there is a place I’ve had my eye on, but it sold before I could get my shit together and hire a realtor. I found another one yesterday, so…” He spreads his arms out. “Here I am… hoping it hasn’t been sold yet.”

A wave of relief hits—this is business talk, which I can handle if I can get a grip on myself. I clear my throat and put on my realtor’s smile. “Are you not looking to build?” With a bank account like his, I expected to sell himproperty, not a home.

The two men chuckle, apparently having already gone over this.

“I’m not exactly thrilled about that idea.” Cooper scratches the back of his cap, exposing a toned tricep to match the rest of his upper body.

I take in a deep breath and shake myself into business mode. “I’ll call the seller…” I say to Garrison, drifting off as I see him shaking his head.

“Before you jump the gun, Mr. Sterling has a few conditions before he hires you.”

I raise an eyebrow, and Cooper laughs.

“He makes them sound frightening.” Cooper reaches for his jacket hanging over the back of his seat. “I was just going to take you out first.”

My paranoia rushes back, so much so that I trip backward into the elevator doors. “Um…”

“I mean to brunch or something,” he clarifies with an embarrassed glint in his ocean eyes. “Talk about what I’m looking for. Maybe…clearupa few things.”

Garrison levels me with a look, telling me silently not to blow this deal. I don’t need the encouragement, however. A chance to clear things up sounds golden to me.

I straighten, smoothing my impromptu ponytail over my shoulder. “No.”

Cooper’s eyes widen, a bushy eyebrow arched at my bluntness. I allow myself a small laugh at his expense—it’s nice to know I can throw him off his guard.

“I’m takingyouout.”

5

Wine and Dine

There’s a place a few blocks south of the office, walking distance, really, which was nice because we took a car service and there wasn’t time for any conversation. Plus, having a witness in the front seat was appreciated. I excel at small talk, part of my training. Cooper, however, acted as if he’d never used a car service in his life. Doubtful—he probably is escorted everywhere he goes. Maybe I makehimnervous. The thought is oddly satisfying.

He looks up from his menu, placing it thoughtfully against the table. He hasn’t said much so far, and it doesn’t take me long to switch roles with him. I set my glass down with a suddenly shaky hand.

“I’m a family man,” he says, throwing me in a spinning loop-dee-loop.

“Okay…” I say, grasping at whatever direction he’s going. “So you want rooms for kids?”

He smirks, the scruff on his chin catching my attention and sending an unexpected jolt near my bellybutton. “I do, but that’s not why I bring this up.”

He settles his elbows on the table, reaching up to scratch his ear, and I tilt my head; I wonder if that’s a nervous tick of his. “I have a blurting problem.”

“Apparently.”

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