Yes, they’d had sex, but only because they’d both been carried away by the moment. Her more literally, but still. She refused to read too much into a single evening of hot lovemaking. That’s how hearts got broken.
She did her best to push any thoughts of Josh out of her mind, only to have them resurface when she saw his offices up ahead. Maybe she should simply ask the question outright. Why was he giving her a deal on a house when he didn’t have to? Asking him was the adult, mature thing to do. She squared her shoulders and walked into the building.
“THERE’S SOMEONE HERE to see you,” Eddie told Josh. “She doesn’t have an appointment. She being the operative word here. Although I’ll give her credit. She’s not like the usual groupies who come looking for you. She’s out of her teens, for one thing, and dressed like a regular person.”
Josh wasn’t in the mood to dash anyone’s hopes this afternoon. He had a lot to deal with, including figuring out how he was going to start training—a relatively easy problem to solve—while dealing with an irrational inability to ride with other people. A problem with a less clear solution.
“You can handle her,” he told Eddie.
“I can, but I don’t want to. She claims you know her. Charity Jones.”
He was out of his seat before she’d finished speaking. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I just did. Are you giving me attitude?”
He ignored her outrage and went out to the reception area. Charity stood in the center, looking nervous and determined. She managed a faint smile, which made him want to promise to fix whatever problem she had.
“I didn’t have an appointment,” she told him. “Do you have a minute?”
“Sure. You don’t need an appointment.”
“It would be nice if someone made one,” Eddie said with a sniff.
Josh pointed to her desk. Eddie sighed heavily before returning to it. He put his hand on the small of Charity’s back, leading her to his office and then closing the door behind them.
“Your assistant has a lot of personality,” Charity said.
“She’s efficient and takes care of me.”
“I like her.”
“Me, too. Not that I want her to know.”
Charity’s smile turned genuine. “She’d use it against you forever.”
“Tell me about it.”
He motioned to the sofa and chairs in the corner. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Iced tea?”
“I’m fine. I just had lunch with Pia.” She sat in a chair.
He took the center of the sofa. “What’s going on?”
She clasped her hands together. “I’m not sure where to start.”
She didn’t sound worried, which was good. As he didn’t have a clue as to what she wanted to talk about, he simply waited. Checking out the view filled the seconds. She wore a short jacket over a lacy shirt and black pants. Very “woman in charge,” a look he enjoyed. It made him think about taming that power, and making the lady in question weak with longing.
“That house we went to,” she began, forcing him to ignore the fantasy of a naked Charity writhing under him.
“You want to make an offer?”
“Not exactly. You own that house.”
He wasn’t sure how she found out, but he wasn’t surprised, either.
“Does it matter who’s selling it?”
She drew in a breath. “You’ve had other offers. People who can pay more than me.”
“I put a lot into that house. I want it to go to the right person.”
“You’re giving me a break on the price that you’re not giving them.”
Normally he would have been happy to take credit for being a great guy, but there was something in her tone, in the way she stared so intently.
“And that’s bad why?” he asked.
“How much of the town do you own?” she asked. “I know about the hotel. Do you own this building? More houses?”
“Want to see a profit and loss statement? My accountant prepares one every quarter.”
“No. Of course not. But you’re rich.”
“By some definitions.”
She shook her head. “Don’t play games. You’re successful and rich and gorgeous and great in bed.” She sucked in a breath. “Well, I can’t say about the ‘in bed’ part, but you obviously know what you’re doing and you do it well. And you’re nice.”
Her tone told him she wasn’t trying to compliment him. The last statement had come out like an accusation.
“Okay,” he said neutrally.
She stood, so he rose. She faced him.
“It’s so not fair. Why can’t this be easier?” she asked.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. Answering the question would be less of a problem if he knew what they were talking about. “I, ah…”
“Sure. For you,” she grumbled. “You get whoever you want. You practically have women being delivered by room service.”
“I don’t do that.”
“I know. I didn’t mean that, exactly. It’s just you could if you wanted. And you don’t, which means more points for you.”
“Charity? What are we talking about?”