Heating Up (20 page)

He let out a sigh and waved the folder at her. “You make a good case. Why do you think Daniel from Heavenly Homes thinks I can do better?”

“You have a beautiful place, Mr. Castro. Anyone can see you've put a lot of love into it, and sometimes that blurs what's really happening in the market. We could list at that price, but I think you would wind up being disappointed.”

“What do you think is realistic?”

“Priced to sell? Three hundred and fifty thousand if we go by the comps.”

She figured that would put the kibosh on her getting the listing. No question Mr. Castro wanted more. But what he wanted and what he could get were two different things.

“How would you market it?”

“I'd advertise the listing on the
Nugget Tribune
's site with a virtual tour. I have a videographer who does beautiful work, and your home is ideal for something like that. A lot of out-of-town buyers subscribe to the
Trib
for the real estate ads. Of course it would go on our website as well, in our newsletter, and to a number of other publications. And, depending on how you feel about it, an open house or two. Of course we'd hold an open house for local brokers as well. You live in Sacramento so it shouldn't be too inconvenient.”

“How soon could all this happen?”

“I could get it on the MLS today. Get the videographer out here next week and do the broker's tour Thursday.” Man oh man, did she want the listing.

“How fast can you sell it?”

She smiled. “Mr. Castro, I would be lying to you if I gave you a time frame. There is no way to predict something like that. But I'll do my very best.”

“That other fellow said two months.”

She merely shrugged. “Again, you have a beautiful home. I think potential buyers will be impressed. But I'm not going to tell you two months; that's just not my style.”

“I like your honesty and I like your integrity,” Mr. Castro said. “Let's do business together.”

“Nothing would make me happier.” Inside, she was jumping up and down. Dana pulled a set of documents from her briefcase. “This is our standard contract. Together, we'll fill in a price and all the other pertinent details, then I'll need you to sign everything.”

Two hours later, she headed to the office, over the moon. She might even add the cabin to her list of places to show the couple interested in Sierra Heights. They were coming up today, staying the night and looking tomorrow. The cabin was smaller than what they were looking for, but you never knew. Ideally, she hoped they'd settle on Sierra Heights. Despite telling themselves they wanted more privacy, Dana could see the planned community was better suited to their needs and lifestyle. They had kids, were extremely sociable, and the husband was an avid golfer. In Sierra Heights he'd have a golf course as his backyard. She worried that a house in the woods would be too secluded for them. But she would let them come to that conclusion on their own.

Right now, she just wanted to set up a time for the videographer to shoot pictures of her new listing, go home, and take a nap. Last night with Aidan . . . she'd never done anything like it. Had never experienced that kind of passion. Not with Tim, not with Griffin, not in her wildest fantasies. She'd had a sneaking suspicion Aidan would be good, but not that good. If she didn't know better, she'd think it had meant something to him.

It wasn't that she thought he was a player or a user, or even the type to hook up with any convenient woman he could find. Aidan had too much integrity for that. But she'd been the first woman since Sue and understood the implications of that. She wouldn't be his last.

Carol's car sat under a shady tree in the parking lot. Typically, she didn't work weekends. That was where Dana came in. The day had turned sweltering, and just from the short walk from her car to the office she could feel perspiration drip between the valley of her breasts. That made her think of her parents' pool, which made her think of Aidan.

A gust of cool air hit Dana as soon as she walked into the office. “Hi,” she greeted Carol, who was doing paperwork at her desk. “I wasn't expecting you today.”

“A couple up for the weekend mentioned to Maddy that they were looking for a second home. She told them about Sierra Heights. They took a drive through, called the office, left a message, and because you were already out . . .”

“Are they serious?”

“As a heart attack. They're grabbing a bite at the Ponderosa to talk it over and should be back”—Carol looked at her watch—“in forty-five minutes.”

“That's fantastic. Which model?”

“That's what they needed to talk about. She wants the Sierra and he says they can only afford the Pine Cone. How 'bout you? How did you fare with Mr. Castro?”

“I got the listing.” Dana high-fived Carol. “Sounds like both of us had productive days.”

“The market is hopping. Anything new with the Rosser place?”

Dana quickly sorted through her mail and waved a FedEx envelope in the air. “The papers! I just have to send them off to Del Webber and the ranch officially goes into escrow.”

“Wow! That's by far the biggest sale this office has ever had.” Carol came over to where Dana was sitting, pulled her up out of the chair, and hugged her. “You rock, girl.”

“So do you, Carol.”

Carol gave her another squeeze. “I'm running over to the Bun Boy. Want anything?”

“No thanks. I'm hoping to finish up a few bookkeeping items and take off. Tomorrow I've got that couple from the Bay Area.”

“All right. If I don't see you when I get back, have a good rest of the day and good luck tomorrow.”

“Right back at ya. I hope your folks get the Sierra.” Dana crossed her fingers.

After Carol left, Dana tore open Gia's envelope to make sure the documents were in order. Everything looked perfect. She quickly jotted off an email to Gia to confirm that she'd gotten the paperwork and got her videographer on the phone. He agreed to do the photos of the cabin on Monday so Dana could have the virtual tour done in time for the broker's tour.

Dana tidied up her desk and was just about to leave when the door jingled. Griffin came in.

“Jesus, it's hot.”

“Not in here. Shut the door before you let all the cool air out. You looking for Carol?”

“No. I was over at the Nugget Market getting charcoal and saw your car outside. Just thought I'd say hi.”

For the first time since he'd gotten back with Lina she didn't feel like he was being patronizing. Just friendly. Maybe it had always been that way and she'd been too bitter to notice.

“It sounds like Carol may have a buyer for one of your houses. The couple is having a late lunch, mulling over which model.”

“That's great,” Griffin said. “Seems like business has picked up. What's going on with you?”

I had sex last night with Aidan McBride in my parents' swimming pool
. “Not much. How about you?”

“The gas station has been crazy busy.” Besides Sierra Heights, Griff owned the Gas and Go, where he also built and sold custom motorcycles. “Other than that, not a whole lot. It seems like you and Aidan are getting pretty tight.”

“We're good friends.” The fact was, she didn't really know what they were.

His lips curved up in a knowing smile. “Seems like more than that to me. I even heard you hosted a party together.”

She was about to argue that they'd only thrown the barbecue as roommates; then it dawned on her that perhaps he was offended they hadn't invited him and Lina. “It was just a last-minute thing. Very small. We would've called you . . . I figured you had plans.”

“We went to Clay and Emily's. They had a cookout at the ranch. But Harlee and Darla said yours was nice, that you went all out on the decorations.”

“Like I said, totally impromptu.” She racked her brain for a subject change, but he beat her to the punch.

“I heard Aidan's investigating the fire at the sporting goods store. He have any leads?”

“I don't think so, but he's professional and won't talk about it, even with me.” She didn't know why she'd said that last part—like she was somehow privy to special information.

“I hope it turns out to have been an accident,” he said.

According to Aidan, not likely, but she held her tongue. “Owen thinks it's the Rigsby boys.”

“Sean? No way. That kid couldn't find his ass with a magnifying glass, let alone matches.”

Dana let out a laugh. “I don't know him.”

“I've caught him a few times at the Gas and Go trying to lift candy. He couldn't even pull that off, and we don't pay all that much attention.”

“You should tell his parents,” Dana said.

“You ever meet Sean's dad? He's a serious d-bag who would deny it. The mom's okay, though. How're the house plans coming along?”

“Good. They did the demo already and we're working on the permits. I'm excited about all the square footage that's getting added. I'm thinking about putting in a pool.”

“A pool?” He scrunched his nose like it wasn't such a hot idea. “They cost a fortune and the upkeep's a nightmare. You and Aidan should just use the one over at Sierra Heights. Man, it's been hella hot. So much so that I booked Lina and me a trip to Hawaii after Tawny and Lucky's wedding. She's never been.”

Dana felt a pang of jealousy. Not so much because she wanted to go to Hawaii with Griffin. That ship had sailed. But she longed to be part of a couple that took vacations together.

“That sounds lovely,” she said and tried to mean it.

“I'm looking forward to it.” He eyed the bag slung over her shoulder. “Looks like you're trying to get out of here. I didn't mean to keep you.”

“I'll walk you out,” she said. “It would be better if you weren't here when the clients come back.”

He saw Dana to her car, got in his own, and drove away. A few seconds later, she followed Griff out of the parking lot and headed the few blocks home.

In the living room, she found Aidan asleep on the couch with the television on and the air conditioner cranked up. He looked sexy there, stretched out like a big pirate, his face shadowed in dark whiskers. She felt the urge to crawl in next to him and cuddle up but thought it would be presumptuous. One night of hot sex did not equal snuggling rights whenever she wanted.

She tiptoed into her bedroom so as not to wake up Aidan, changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and flopped onto the bed. Scooting close to the window, she turned on the air conditioner and lay there, letting the cool air roll over her like a beach breeze. She'd allow herself ten minutes of relaxation; then she'd get up and do a few chores. But her eyelids grew heavy and she'd started to drift off to sleep when the bed dipped from the weight of another person. Aidan. He reached for her, snugged her back against his chest until they were spooning. His hands covered her breasts, and a short while later she heard his heavy breathing. Asleep. And soon, she was too.

G
ia sat across from her agent in a midtown Manhattan restaurant, watching out the window as a cab driver and a motorist jockeyed for the same narrow lane. The cabbie honked his horn as the other driver tried to cut him off. Even from inside, over the chef's insipid playlist, she could hear the screeching of metal scraping metal.

“They're going to kill each other,” Gia said, unable to take her eyes off the scene of the two men yelling, smashing into each other like bumper cars in Coney Island. “Seriously, they're willing to die to shave a fraction of a second off their commute. It's crazy.”

“It's New York City in rush hour.” Marci tapped her acrylic nail on the menu. “You know what you want?”

Yeah, Gia thought, to get out of this hell hole. To pack up her car and drive west, where the roads were safe and people didn't move at warp speed. Where she could breathe.

The waiter came and Marci turned to Gia. “I suggest you get a drink. Make it a double.”

“That bad, huh?”

Marci let out a sigh. “It depends on how you look at it.”

The waiter, who spoke with an accent Gia didn't recognize, tapped his toe impatiently.

“I'll have a Lemon Drop,” she said, and Marci got a Negroni. When the server left, Gia asked, “Where do you think he's from? I couldn't place the accent.”

“The Island of Pretensia.” Marci always had a snappy comeback, probably why she was one of the most coveted agents in the country.

Gia laughed. “What did they say?”

“That they'll buy you out of your contract.”

It was more than Gia had expected. She figured the network would use something in the fine print, like, say, violating a morals clause by having a thief for a boyfriend. Then they could've pulled out without having to pay her.

“That works,” she told Marci.

“They want to retain the rights to the name of the show.”

“It's my name, for God's sake.”
The Treadwell Hour: Financial Advice that will set you free.
“Why would anyone want a show with someone else's name? It's ridiculous.”

“They don't want to use it,” Marci said. “They just don't want
you
to use it.”

“But it's my brand, albeit not a very good brand because no one wants to touch it with a ten-foot pole. But it's mine!”

“That's the thing; when your brand has weathered the storm, which it will, they don't want you taking your show on the road.”

“In other words, they want to own me.”

Their drinks came and Marci took a fortifying sip. Clearly she was not enjoying this. To the waiter from the Island of Pretensia, who by now knew exactly who Gia was and was lingering to eavesdrop, Marci said, “We could use some nibbles.”

He propped his hip against the table. “Allow me to make a few suggestions.”

“Just bring us out some of those dumplings . . . the ones with the pork . . . the quail eggs, and the house-made potato chips.” Marci stared daggers at him, her message transparent: FO, pretty boy.

When he disappeared to the other side of the restaurant, Marci said, “Yeah, they want to own you.”

“I don't want to give them my name.”

“We could try to play hardball, but then they may just keep you, put your show on at midnight, and make you tape at four in the morning. There really isn't any way to stop them.” She paused and let out another sigh. “They want you to announce that you're resigning.”

“But I'm not. They're firing me. A resignation is the same as an admission that I did something wrong. The only thing I'm guilty of is dating an asshole.” An asshole who bilked people out of their life savings.

“We'll leak it to the press that the network fired you. The American public isn't stupid, Gia; they'll know what's really going on here.”

No, it would make her look weak and feed more fuel to the tabloids. The headlines had already been damning: “Grand Jury Convened to Look at Treadwell's Complicity in Ponzi Scheme.” “Treadwell on the Treadmill to Prison.” All lies.

How had her life gone from perfect to crap in the blink of an eye? At moments like this, she tried to focus on the future. She wasn't quite sure what that would look like, but it involved a small railroad town, verdant fields that stretched beyond the Feather River, and mountains and trees for as far as the eye could see. Peace and quiet and asshole free.

Their appetizers came, and this time their waiter didn't loiter. Even at five foot tall, Marci could be a fire-spitting dragon.

“I'll give them the name,” Gia said, “but not the resignation announcement. They want to fire me, they can make their own damn announcement. Just let them know that if they libel me in any way . . . my attorney is on speed dial.”

“Let me see what I can do,” Marci said.

Gia wouldn't let the network push her around, but she wanted out of her contract and out of New York as fast as a bullet train.

* * *

“You asleep?” Aidan nuzzled Dana's neck.

“I was,” she said in a drowsy voice.

“Sorry; go back to sleep.”

She rolled over on her side, blinking at him a few times with those mesmerizing golden eyes he liked so much. “What time is it?”

“Five.” He kissed her nose.

“Five? I feel like I just shut my eyes. I never sleep during the day like this.”

“We had a long night.” His lips tipped up in a salacious smile. “How was work?”

“I got the listing for the cabin. And Carol may have sold a home in Sierra Heights.”

“The cabin you like so much?” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. He liked touching her.

“The very one. I never in a million years thought I'd get it.”

“You're on a roll, baby.” His hands snaked up her T-shirt; she didn't have on a bra, giving him unfettered access to her breasts. “Want to fool around?”

Her eyes heated and she started to say something, stopped herself, and finally blurted, “I don't know what we're doing, Aidan.”

“Working up to foreplay.”

“You know what I mean.”

Yeah, he knew what she meant. “I don't know what we're doing either. But I do know that I like you . . . that I think about you all the time. Do we have to analyze it?”

“Am I just convenient because we live together and there aren't a lot of single women in Nugget?”

“What?” he growled, because the question was patently absurd. “Dana, I was attracted to you from the first night I saw you . . . when you stood on the curb in a see-through nightgown with your smiley-face panties showing.”

“You were?”

“It wasn't exactly a good time, considering your house was burning down, but under normal circumstances I would've asked you for your number.”

“You would not have.”

“Yeah, I would've. I liked the color of your eyes.” Among other things. “You had this grace-under-fire thing going that I admired.”

“No, that was shock you saw.” She propped up on one elbow. “Is that why you offered to share the house? Because you were attracted to me?”

“The truth? I didn't want a roommate, but I felt bad for you. I also told myself that if we lived together, I couldn't put the moves on you . . . and I wanted to.”

“What changed . . . about putting the moves on me?”

“That night at our party, it hit me that I wasn't going to make it.” He ran his hand down her arm. “I know it complicates things.”

She kissed him. “A little bit.”

“Dana?”

“Hmm?”

“Off with the clothes, okay?”

She unsnapped her shorts, pulled them down, and wiggled out of them, leaving on just a pair of see-through panties. He put his hand there and found the lace wet. Dana pulled up his shirt and tugged it over his head, touching his chest and his abdomen until he hissed in a breath. Once her T-shirt came off, he couldn't get enough of her, touching and licking and sucking until her body bowed.

“Pants,” she said in a breathy voice that made Aidan wild.

“You want them off?”

She answered by grabbing for his belt, trying desperately to unclasp the buckle. He shooed her hand away and undid it himself, sliding jeans and shorts down his legs. With one foot he kicked them off.

“Shit . . . condom.” He rolled off the bed, sprinted to his bedroom, and returned as quickly as he'd left. “We're good.”

Aidan looked down at her lying on the bed and almost lost his mind. He'd never seen a woman look at him like he was everything, the sun and the moon and the stars. Not Sue. Not anyone. And it humbled him, made him afraid that he'd disappoint her. Not in bed. He knew he had that covered, but in everything else.

She reached for him. And he came down on top of her, using his hands to balance his weight, and kissed her. Slender arms came around his neck, and he had the crazy sensation that this was what home felt like.

With one hand, and his teeth, he managed to open one of the foil packets and rolled the condom on. She arched her back in a wordless plea to take her, which he did. Thoroughly.

* * *

“I could grill us some burgers,” he said, lying next to her in a postcoital haze.

“There are salad fixings in the fridge and a bag of chips left from the party. You do realize I keep breaking my no-eating-after-six rule with you?”

He chuckled. “I never met a woman who had more rules than you.”

She nestled her head next to his shoulder. “Without them life would be chaos.”

“I like chaos.” He swung his feet over the bed, walked to her dresser, and opened the first drawer.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking something.” He turned around, dangling a pair of her underwear. “Just as I suspected; you organized them by color.”

“And type,” she said, completely serious. “The thongs are next to the bikinis, which are next to the hipsters, and the boy shorts are at the far end. That way I don't have to search for what I need.” Her eyes moved over him. “You're the best-looking naked man I've ever seen.”

“Yeah?” Aidan cocked a brow. “How many have you seen?”

“Enough.” She winked at him. Dana Calloway had a flirtatious streak.

“Want to share a shower . . . you know, for the drought?”

“How civic-minded of you.” She laughed, letting her eyes linger on his erection. “Impressive. I'll meet you in there.”

Aidan grabbed his clothes off the floor and started for the door. “Don't make me wait too long. We wouldn't want to waste water.”

After their shower, they sat on the back porch and ate. The temperature had cooled and Aidan got lost in the blues, pinks, and reds that streaked the sky.

“You have any luck on your case today?”

“Nah,” Aidan said. “Between you and me, I don't have a damn thing.”

“Griffin doesn't think it's one of the Rigsby boys. He says Sean's too, uh, mentally challenged to have pulled it off.”

The majority of arsonists had IQs below normal—typically between seventy and ninety. So Griffin didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

“When did you talk to Griffin?” He didn't know why, but it bothered him. The guy always seemed to be coming around.

“He walked over to the office from the Nugget Market today to say hello and asked about the case.”

If the whole damn town wasn't obsessed with the fire, Aidan might've suspected Griffin because offenders liked to relive the crime by talking about it. For some of these guys it was like sex.

“You didn't tell him anything, right?”

“Aidan, I don't know anything.”

He never used to talk about his cases with Sue, mostly because she hadn't been interested. But Dana always asked about his work, and more likely than not, he'd eventually tell her something he shouldn't. It was normal—at least it should be—to tell the woman you're living with about your day.

“Sometimes I might slip and give details about a case that I shouldn't. I know this town likes to gossip, but can you promise to keep quiet?”

“Of course; I would never tell anyone something you told me in confidence.”

“Good, because I like being able to tell you stuff.”

“You do?” She beamed.

“You're a good listener. What else did Griffin have to say?”

“He and Lina are going to Hawaii. She's never been. And that any time we want we can use the pool at Sierra Heights.”

“How did the pool come up?” The idea that Dana might've said something about their sexcapade in her parents' pool niggled at him.

“God . . . you don't think . . . seriously, Aidan. He asked about the plans for my new house and I told him I was thinking of putting in a pool.”

“From a firefighter's point of view, I love the idea. From a practical point of view, it seems crazy, given how cold everyone tells me the winters are up here. Besides, we've got a river right outside our door.”

He realized his mistake when she suddenly clammed up. “Dana”—he tilted his head to look at her—“are you afraid to swim in the river because of what happened to your brother?”

“No. It's not even the same river. It just brings back that day.”

And what she had lost, which Aidan now knew was more than Paul. She'd lost her whole damn family.

“I'm sorry, baby.” He draped his arm over her shoulders, not knowing what else to say.

“It's okay. It's been a long time. Wanna watch a movie?”