Signed, Sealed, Delivered (7 page)

A hand settled on her shoulder. “Hey, Jules.” Mallory had come to help her through this.

“Hey.”

“Sad?”

“A little. I did good work here.”

“Damn right, you did.” Mallory’s hand fell away. “Need any help carrying stuff outside?”

Juliana nodded at the small box in her hands. “Last of it’s in here. Hard to believe I’m really going.” She sniffed hard, willing herself not to cry.

This change was for the best, for her and for her students. These kids deserved a teacher who could give them every bit of her time and energy.

“I’m doing the right thing.”

If only saying the words could make them true.

“I sure think so.” Mallory’s authoritarian tone helped soothe Juliana’s rapidly fraying nerves.

“Then it’s time to go.”

“The Ladies are taking you out tonight. We’ve got a table reserved at Santiago’s.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Didn’t say we had to, did I?” Mallory took the box from Juliana’s hands. “Let’s go.”

One last look, and Juliana walked away from her old life.

Juliana knocked on the door before smoothing down her skirt, nervously trying to remove any wrinkles. She wanted to look her best, hoping to convince the owners of the home to list with her instead of selling the home themselves.

The Ladies and Ben had helped her search through for-sale-by-owner listings to select a few promising ones for her to call. Three calls yielded three appointments, which came as a big surprise. As she spoke to each owner, her hopes rose.

Mallory and Ben were right—people in this town really didn’t like Max Schumm. They’d chosen to fizbo instead of listing with him or another firm. Each was willing to listen to her pitch, so she’d set up times to meet with them that afternoon.

House one belonged to George and Sheila Ryan, an older couple ready to sell their Illinois home and become residents of a Florida retirement community.

The door opened, revealing a man with gray hair, enough wrinkles to be wise, and a friendly face.

Giving him her most confident smile, Juliana held out her hand. “Hi. I’m Juliana Kelley. You must be Mr. Ryan.”

He shook her hand then held the door open wider. “Come on in, young lady. Call me George. Please.”

The place was an antiquer’s dream. Most of the furniture had to be older than she was. A lot older. If they agreed to list with her, she’d offer them a ton of suggestions on staging the place, the first being to sell or store some of the rather overcrowded furnishings. But other than having too much clutter—little wonder because they’d owned the place since they’d built it when Kennedy was in office—it had loads of potential. Gorgeous hardwood floors. Newer replacement windows. A nice, large corner lot. The walls even appeared freshly painted in neutral tones—a good choice to please potential buyers.

“Thanks so much for agreeing to speak with me.” She opened her planner and pulled out one of her business cards Ben had made for her using Amber’s template for Carpenter Contracting. He’d switched out the hammer-and-screwdriver logo for a simple green shamrock and changed all the personal info to fit her. While it might have been a hasty job, it was good enough for her to use for now. Soon she’d have enough cash flow to order some from a print shop and could perhaps take the time to design something more flashy.

George took the card and squinted at it.

His wife came in from the kitchen, holding a pair of reading glasses. She passed them to her husband and smiled at Juliana. “Hi. I’m Sheila.”

“Hi, Sheila. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Can I get you some tea?”

“No, thank you.”

After donning the glasses and perusing Juliana’s card, he passed it to his wife. “So you think you can sell our house better than we can?”

Taking a deep breath, Juliana launched into the pitch she’d worked up and then practiced repeatedly with the Ladies. She outlined all the things a good Realtor could do to help them, from finding the right list price to staging to screening the people she’d allow into their home. Judging from the way Sheila kept nodding along with every point Juliana made, she was already on her side. George merely stared at her, stroking his chin with his thumb and index finger as though giving all she proposed great consideration.

It was a good start.

A knock at the door interrupted a question he’d only begun to ask.

“Excuse me.” He went to the front door and peeked out one of the three small oval windows near eye level. Then he opened the door.

“Mr. Ryan? Hi. I believe we had an appointment.”

Juliana froze, the familiar baritone washing over her in relentless waves. Her heart leapt in her chest, pounding a rough rhythm that made her light-headed.

No. No way.

She turned to find Connor Wilson standing on the front porch.

Her mind split, heading two directions. On one hand she was thrilled to see him again. On the other, she wished he’d never shown up. There was no question why he was here—he’d also decided to try getting his own customers among the fizbos. She’d never dreamed she’d be competing with him for listings. Naïve on her part considering she’d met him at Max’s seminar.

Where had he been the last few weeks? She’d found herself searching each male face she passed at the grocery or the mall for his handsome visage. It was as though he’d dropped off the face of the planet after their night together, or at least from Cloverleaf. Not that she knew what she’d do if she had found him. Explain, she supposed.

She’d been the one to run away from her own passion and the feelings he’d inspired. With a note of self-disgust, she realized that had she found him she’d probably have dragged him right back into bed.

She was thirty-five, for shit’s sake! She shouldn’t be drowning in some adolescent hormonal surge, but that was exactly how Connor affected her. Desire ensnared her in talons as sharp as a raptor’s, and she couldn’t seem to break free.

His interruption was ill-timed. After what they’d shared, she simply couldn’t see herself fighting him for the Ryans’ business. Even if she could gird her loins and tangle with him, she had no idea who would win. Did he have experience selling real estate? Could he offer them some proof that he knew exactly what he was doing and had been successful at it?

She’d judged him to be close to her age, which meant he’d been doing
something
to earn a living. It was hard to imagine someone else taking a plunge into a brand-new career in his thirties. Sure, she was contemplating doing a one-eighty-degree turn. But was he considering taking the same kind of bold move? And if he was, what had prompted the change? A stalled-out career? A divorce?

God, she knew next to nothing about this man, a man she’d slept with, and she was clueless as to his job, motivation, or plans for the future.

“You must be Connor Wilson. Come in, come in.” George shut the door behind Connor, who obviously still hadn’t noticed her, probably because he was so focused on George.

“I’m so happy you agreed to meet with me. I hope I can convince you that trying to sell your home yourself can be risky.”

“I already explained those risks to them.” Juliana folded her arms under her breasts and leveled a hard stare at him while she drummed her fingers on her on her elbow.

Connor whirled to face her, mouth open and eyes wide. “Red?”

“Red? What a cute nickname,” Sheila said, clasping her hands. “Especially because she has such pretty hair.”

It took all of Juliana’s self-control not to roll her eyes. Sheila was right—it was a cute nickname. Except it wasn’t hers. Despite her hair, no one had ever called her Red. Not even her best friends. Only Jules. Since she didn’t want to offend potential new clients, she held her tongue. The last thing she wanted to do was get into a squabble with Connor over something that petty. There were bigger things to worry about. Besides, she rather liked the name. He was the only one to use it, which somehow made it special. Endearing.

Still, she went for the kill. This was, after all, business. Her whole life was at stake, and she needed this listing. “I was just explaining to George and Sheila how dangerous it could be to let strangers into their home.”

Connor nodded, his face fixed on hers. “She’s right. You never know when they’re not really interested in buying. They might just be giving your place a good look and making plans to come back later and rob you.”

She wasn’t about to let him score any points with the Ryans. “Some might even steal from your jewelry box or”—she nodded at a jar full of coins near the front door—“take your money. You really need a good Realtor to watch out for you. Let me help you through the process of selling your home. This isn’t something you want to do on your own.”

Sheila kept shifting her gaze between Juliana and Connor, clearly torn on who to choose. George, on the other hand, kept staring at Connor. Then Sheila must have noticed where her husband directed his attention, because she sidled up closer to Connor, all but turning her back on Juliana.

She was losing them.

Don’t panic!

“So, could you give me a quick tour?” Juliana asked. “I can give you some tips of things you can do to stage this place and make it more attractive to potential buyers.”

“I don’t know,” George hedged. “Perhaps Connor here might want to see the house first.”

No, she wasn’t losing them.

She’d already lost them.

Damn it.

“He seems like a very professional young man,” Sheila added.

It wasn’t what she said as much as the confident tone in which she said it that clicked. Juliana finally understood the problem—they were going to be more comfortable with a guy working on the listing.

Small-town Illinois. Forever stuck in the 1950s.

Catching Connor’s sympathetic gaze, she almost excused herself and bolted for the door. She would pause long enough to give him a whack upside the head for interfering. Why did he have to show up and ruin things?

She should go ahead and leave. The Ryans wanted Connor. He was going to get the listing for…

For whom?

Although he was trying to get this listing, she didn’t know what firm he worked for. He wasn’t wearing a hideous blue blazer. He hadn’t mentioned representing any firm. He hadn’t even given George a business card.

Could Connor be flying solo, too?

A brilliant idea quickly bubbled to the surface, although she had no idea whether it would work. A little far-fetched, but at this point what did she have to lose? The listing was already going to Connor. Why shouldn’t she try to snatch back a part of it for herself?

Juliana gambled her future on him understanding what she was about to do—not only understanding but agreeing. Using her best confident tone, she launched her new plan. “Didn’t I tell you? No, it appears I didn’t. No wonder you’re both looking so confused.” She took a few steps to get nearer to Connor and then flashed the clients a confident smile. “Goodness, I should have told you when I first got here. Mr. Wilson is my partner.”

“Partner?” George glanced down at the business card he still held. “He’s your partner? This only has your name on it. Juliana Kelley. Kelley Realty.”

“I can explain that,” she insisted, scrambling for a reason that didn’t sound like the lie it would be.

“Well, then.” Connor cocked his head, the only sign he even heard what she’d said. The guy had a poker face that could win every pot. “Why don’t you go ahead and explain away?”

Thankfully, she heard no anger in his tone. If she judged it correctly, he was amused.

She tried not to stammer, a problem she tended to develop whenever anxiety got the better of her. “Mr. Wilson and I just formed the partnership yesterday. I haven’t had time to print up new business cards.”

George still appeared skeptical. “He’s with Kelley Realty?”

“It’s
Wilson
-Kelley Realty,” Connor corrected. His eyes dared her to contradict him.

So she did. “Actually, it’s Kelley-Wilson Realty. We agreed on it back when we formed the partnership at the Ramada.”

“Sounds a little fishy to me.” George rubbed the back of his neck.

“Nothing fishy, George. Honestly,” Connor reassured. “We’re not accustomed to working with each other yet. Too used to being single rather than part of a duo.”

Good God, he was going along with the ruse.

Or was it a ruse?

Maybe this could really work.

Only in a romance novel…

But she was willing to give it a try.

“We’ve never had to check with each other before visits like this before,” she said.

“We got our signals crossed,” he added. “That’s all.”

“Well, then…” George smiled at him then at her. “If he’s with you…”

She gave him a decisive nod. “Oh, yes, sir. He sure is.”

He thrust a hand out to Connor. “Then you two can sell our house for us.”

* * *

Connor shook George Ryan’s hand, although he wasn’t quite sure whether he should be grateful to Juliana or pissed at her.

What in the hell was going through her mind to dream up a partnership and spring it on him like a trap? He didn’t know anything about her. Sure, they’d had sex. But the rest of her life remained a complete mystery. To agree to work with her was foolhardy at best, a devastating mistake at worst.

The woman had fled his bed as if what they’d shared was tawdry. His ego would have been flattened if she hadn’t been so vocal about her pleasure in what they’d shared. Something else had set her running; perhaps she’d sensed the depth of his feelings. But wasn’t it usually the guy who tried to escape something before it grew too serious?

He was supposed to be launching his own enterprise, had spent the better part of a month moving and then fixing up his own house and office to get ready for the launch of Wilson Realty. Even though it was late June, the renovation was still in the nightmare stage. Now that he was entrenched and starting to search for listings, it was time to find a good contractor and make the place something more than merely functional.

This house should’ve been his first listing in Cloverleaf, one that would lead to another and another until he found himself challenging Max Schumm as the number one Realtor in this town and the surrounding counties.

The Ryans’ place was money in the bank, a vintage home with enough restorations to make it marketable. Some staging and it would sell quickly. One short phone conversation with George had led to an appointment that seemed like a sure thing. Connor’s traveling office—his laptop and portable printer—came along with him so he could produce the contracts for the couple to sign just as soon as he got their approval to list the home.

George was an old-fashioned kind of guy who clearly wanted to work with a man. Connor had figured that out from the phone conversation alone. What came as a shock was that Juliana had seen the way the wind was blowing so quickly. Not only that, but she came up with a brilliant idea to save at least some of the pie for herself, even it cost him part of his potential commission.

He’d never known another Realtor as fast on her feet.

Except me.