“Are we good?” Hunter asked . . . not quite sure why it mattered.
Blake turned and shrugged. “My wife takes personal responsibility for every marriage her company sets up. What’s important to her is important to me. With Gabi, it’s personal. Not simply because she’s an employee.” Blake leveled his eyes and paused. “Don’t hurt her, and we’ll be fine.”
Hunter sucked in a deep breath while Blake left his office.
Chapter Nine
The mature trees thickened as they drove up into the Bel Air Estates.
“We will find you the perfect home today.” At sixty-three years old and with over twenty years of selling real estate to the wealthy, Josie Fortier spoke with conviction.
“I hope you’re right. The news vans in my current neighborhood are earning dirty looks from my neighbors.”
Josie drove farther up the hillside and continued en route to the first of three homes they had scheduled to see that morning. “The neighbors here are much more accustomed to dealing with the press. It proves that private gates are necessary.”
Gabi relented. “I suppose you’re right about that.”
“Everything I’m showing you today is gated. Each home has a separate guest house.”
While Josie spoke of bedrooms, bathrooms, and square footage, Gabi’s thoughts drifted to the taste of Hunter Blackwell. The frustrating bastard that he was had jolted something she thought was dead inside her.
The last thing Gabi wanted was to feel anything but anger and hatred toward her husband.
Desire wasn’t on the menu.
Not now . . . not ever.
She shook the memory of his lips on hers and tried to pay attention to Josie’s description of the home they were approaching. The double gates opened to reveal a tree-lined drive. The manicured landscape surrounding the drive added a sense of privacy the previous homes they’d looked at didn’t have.
“You’re sitting on a smidgen over two acres. Lots of room between you and your neighbors. Much more appropriate for your husband’s needs.”
“Excuse me?” Hearing Josie speak of Hunter was a strange twist.
Josie parked her car in the circular drive. “When Mr. Blackwell called me yesterday, he suggested more land.”
And why would he call Gabi’s real estate agent? Wasn’t this her decision?
As the two of them exited the car, a sleek graphite gray Maserati pulled in behind them. Gabi wondered, briefly, if it was the current owner of the home. Then the now familiar frame of Hunter pushed out of the sports car, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His strong jaw and not-quite-perfect hair had the hair on Gabi’s arms standing high.
Josie offered a brilliant smile and moved to join Hunter. “Mr. Blackwell. I’m glad you could join us.”
“My schedule opened up,” Hunter told them.
Gabi attempted to look away as Hunter shook hands with the real estate agent before narrowing the distance between the two of them. He stepped into her personal space as if he’d done so on a regular basis and leaned down to brush his lips to Gabi’s cheek. “Smile,” he whispered.
She did, and then chastised herself for following his demands so easily. “You didn’t tell me you were coming,” she said loud enough for Josie to hear.
“Work became impossible once the media leaked our marriage.”
“You didn’t tell me you were married to Hunter Blackwell,” Josie said with a laugh and a slight pat to Gabi’s arm.
“We . . . we were waiting to announce the union.”
Josie unlocked the front door and started spouting off the home’s qualities while Hunter and Gabi took several paces back.
Gabi leaned close and lowered her voice. “What are you doing here?”
He removed his sunglasses and tucked them inside his jacket. “Expediting our search.”
“Expediting? We haven’t been married a week.”
“The sooner we move in together, the better,” he whispered. Instead of letting her hold back to grumble quietly, Hunter placed a hand to the small of her back and moved the both of them closer to their tour guide.
“There are five bedrooms, six bathrooms in the main house, two bedrooms, one and a half baths in the guest quarters.”
They walked through a foyer that held a double staircase to the second floor. The home was sparsely furnished, indicating the owners didn’t live there.
White walls and marble covered most of the vertical and horizontal surfaces. They stepped into the kitchen, the same cool feeling keeping Gabi from seeing the qualities Josie was touting.
The great room moved into a formal dining room and Gabi found herself frowning.
“You don’t care for it,” Hunter said at her side.
She shook her head. “Too cold, too modern.” Though it wasn’t modern in the hard edge and contrasting colors kind of way.
Josie overheard her. “With furniture the space will warm up.”
Hunter moved farther into the dining room and glanced out the window to the yard beyond. “I don’t think so.”