Granddad's House (On Geneva Shores) (11 page)

“I’ll give her the message. Have a good evening, Olivia.”

The next morning she presented her grandfather with the counteroffer forms, which he signed, along with the rest of the original offer. When the last page was initialed and dated, she returned to the office and made two copies. She slipped one into an envelope and printed her grandfather’s name on it. She would drop it off at his house on the way home. She called Beau’s office and left him a message. The rest of the day she forced herself to focus on other buyers and sellers, and the small and large questions the other agents brought her. That night she went home, not quite sure what to do with herself. She kept thinking of her grandfather’s house, and Beau.
Why can’t I get him out of my mind?

She went to bed early, intent on reading a book that would focus her on other people’s problems. The phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Is that you, Olivia? I know it’s late. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Sally! Where have you been?”

“Just back from visiting my aunt—in Minnesota, remember? Will you come with me to the lake on Saturday? We could have a picnic. It’s supposed to be a nice day. Or do you have clients?”

“Not now. The couple I was supposed to see changed our appointment. I’d love to see you. Want me to bring lunch?”

“Great idea. I’ll see you at our favorite table.”

“I can hardly wait. See you then.” Olivia hung up and leaned back against her pillows, smiling at the unexpected surprise. She’d known Sally since they began preschool together.
If Sally can keep a positive attitude after her mom’s breast cancer, why can’t I?
So Granddad’s going to sell his house. It was his right. Even if he had to bunk in with her for a while, which he said he’d never do. She would make sure he wasn’t homeless.

She sighed, turned out the light and tried to go to sleep. An hour of tossing and turning left her frustrated.
What
is
my problem?

But she knew what it was. That world-class kiss, two of them actually. And that infuriating man who’d planted them on her. Her body kept begging for more whenever Beau came to mind. She wondered what it would be like to feel his arms around her, pulling her to his chest again. She had to stop thinking about him. He was coming to the office tomorrow so she could tell him of her grandfather’s counter.
I’ll just have to concentrate on something else.
  Her dad’s trick of imagining people in their underwear wouldn’t work with Beau. Whether he wore boxers or briefs, she imagined he would look fabulous, and even better without them.
Gawd! Why am I going there?

Then there was Ned, an annoying thorn she couldn’t seem to get rid of. She had to dig him out of her life once and for all. They had no future. Except she’d said she would meet him for dinner on Saturday. She grimaced. No more dinners with Ned and whatever he wanted afterward. She wasn’t up for it.
I’ll call and cancel.
First thing tomorrow.
She finally fell asleep, after convincing herself she could handle whatever happened over the next few weeks while she looked for a place for her grandfather.

Beau was waiting for her when she arrived at the office the next morning. He bowed slightly as he opened the main door for her.

“Trying to impress me with your Southern manners?” she asked, wishing her heart would stop its skipping around with her stomach.

“Just showing you I have them, ma’am,” he drawled. “I came for the news. Miss Genevieve said you had a response.” As he passed by the receptionist’s desk, he said, “By the way, you look lovely, Genevieve, as I’m sure you do every morning.”

It was all Olivia could do not to roll her eyes.

The receptionist blushed to her dyed roots. “I’m glad you think so, Mr. James. Would you like some coffee?”

“I would indeed. Black. I take mine straight and strong.” He chuckled. “How about you, Miss Olivia?”

In spite of herself, her skin heated up. “Yes, coffee, Genevieve, please.”  She pulled out the extra copy of the contract and placed it in front of him. “As you can see, my grandfather has countered your offer.”

“How so? Perhaps you should point out the changes.” He moved his chair closer to hers so that they could read off the same copy.

“Here.” She pointed. “And here, too.” She took a sip from her coffee too soon and burned her mouth.

One of his legs was snugged next to hers.
Is he trying to distract me?
He brought his head closer and leaned one shoulder in her direction.
And that aftershave—so fresh, like a sea breeze.
She forced herself to look at the contract, the better to concentrate on something other than his tanned neck, so close to her face. She imagined leaning closer, the better to savor his scent.

She cleared her throat. “He needs a ninety-day close.” Before he could object, she explained. “He has yet to begin looking for a replacement property and I will not allow him to be homeless. If you can’t give him that time, he may terminate.”
How’s that for fear of loss, Mr. James?
She barely prevented herself from smirking at a classic method of kicking a buyer off the proverbial fence.

Beau sat back in his chair before he replied, seemingly more to himself than to her.
“Our permits will have expired by then.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” But she wasn’t. Her heart began to sing again. Maybe that was the way to get out of the deal. Thank goodness she had insisted on a longer time before possession.

“Unless we can get an extension.” He glanced back at her, the look in his eye a clear challenge. “How long do we have to consider this counteroffer?”

“Take all the time you like. The listing remains active, and should another offer come in before we hear back, I will let you know, as a courtesy—because it’s the ethical thing to do. I run an ethical business.”
Now why did I say that? Of course, I’m ethical and he knows it!
“Obviously, since we don’t have mutual acceptance until you sign this counteroffer, you risk losing first position.” She tried not to let her sense of having won show when she dared to look back at him.

His lips beckoned when he leaned forward a bit. She moved forward to meet them, then caught herself and leaned to the side, away from temptation.

His arm went around the back of her chair, pressing ever so lightly against her back.

She moved forward, away from the arm, but that put her dangerously close to his face again, and those sensuous lips, those green eyes that seemed to have magnetized her own. She took immediate refuge in another sip of slightly-cooled coffee.

He followed her example by bringing his own cup to his lips, but his eyes never left her face. Finally, he said, his voice cooler, “You’re making this as difficult as you can, aren’t you, Olivia? Do you treat all buyers like you’re treating me?”

Her right hand began to jiggle the pen. “I have no idea what you mean.” She forced her eyes to look at the papers in front of her on the table. 

“I think you do.” His voice was now distinctly icy. “Let me spell it out for you. You don’t want me to buy your grandfather’s house—because I don’t represent a family, even though my plans for it are in keeping with city regs and I have no intention of ruining it. I daresay the neighbors will be very happy with the results when we’re done.” His drawl seemed stronger as he continued, his words coming more slowly, deliberately. “I don’t take kindly to losing a negotiation, particularly when I’ve made a bona fide offer and have the cash in hand to prove it. As you have already confirmed.” He fairly spat out those words.

She didn’t know what to say to that, her nod barely perceptible, her heart galloping along,
her breath coming in little gasps.

“Then there was the other night,” he said. His voice turned soft, too sexy for her to ignore. “I’m sorry you ate so much and ended up wasting that wonderful wine to boot.”

She looked up at him then, glaring daggers, as if she thought it crude that he had stated out loud what he’d suspected she’d done. 

“Let me be perfectly clear.” His words were now clipped and without a hint of Southern charm. “I did not intend to make you drink too much. I don’t take advantage of women when I ask them to dinner. I thought we were going to discuss our business venture—you on behalf of your grandfather. How such a nice man, a real gentleman, got saddled with such a
hellion
for a granddaughter is beyond me.” His eyes were so intensely green it took her breath away.

“Nor did I take your briefcase and coat,” he continued before she could object. “I was worried about you when I took you home. Then you showed up at my place, and you caught me by surprise. You were still so tipsy, you could barely stand up. You practically fell into my arms.
An accidental kiss or two, I can accept. Deliberately plotting to make me catch you is another matter. I don’t take kindly to women who come on to me, especially when it turns out they have an ulterior motive.”

Olivia was stunned. But it took her only a second to catch her breath and set the record straight. “No way. It was the other way around. You came on to
me
,” she blurted, before realizing people outside the office might be able to hear her raised voice.

His voice dropped low again but stayed tense. “
Our
kisses, then. You can’t get those kisses out of your head, can you? Neither can I, if you must know. That first one really was an accident. I’m not even sure myself how it happened. The second one—” he smirked—“now
that
was an encounter I intend to repeat, especially since it was obviously mutual. You kissed me back, darlin’, and you know it.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he clapped his hand over it and stopped her from uttering a sound.

“So how about we separate our business from our personal feelings and go to dinner again? I promise not to order too much food if you go easy on the wine, since you obviously can’t handle both. Be an adult and show me you can separate business from a dinner between friends.”

“Since when are we friends? I think it’s time you left my office, Mr. Beauregard.” She rose from her seat so suddenly her coffee cup spilled onto the pages of the counteroffer.

He backed away from the cup that clattered in his direction on the table. “What did you call me?” He chuckled, one eyebrow raised above a broad grin. 

“Never mind. Look what you’ve done.” She moved to wipe up the spill. “I’ll have to get Genevieve to get us another copy.”

“Correction. What
you’ve
done. And don’t bother. I wasn’t going to sign it today anyway.  George and I will have to see about the permit deadline.” His powerful hands gripped her waist and pulled her around so that she was facing him. “I know that makes you happy—for the moment. I’ve always preferred to engage in win-win negotiations, Ms. Brown. Don’t think for a minute I’m going to roll over just because you are standing there like a miniature ogre guarding the castle gates—”

“Since when am I a miniature …ogre?” she interrupted, her face inflamed and her body at least as hot and begging her to do something about it.

“Compared to me you are. What are you, five four? I’m six one, which makes you a lot smaller than me, in spite of the fact you have an ego as big as all outdoors. Too big for your own good, if you ask me.” His eyes seemed to glow as he stared back at her, his voice dropping and his words slowing seductively. “Think what a win-win would mean between us, Olivia. And I’m not thinking just about your grandfather’s house.”

She couldn’t seem to move as his words curled through her brain, her imagination racing as rapidly as her pulse.

Beau huffed out a little breath and straightened his tie, his tone again businesslike. “My offer remains on the table, not yet fully signed around. I expect you to honor that—like you said. And, I’ll call you later to set that dinner date.”  Before she could stop him, he turned on his heel and walked out of her office.

She refused to open her door until she’d mopped up the spilled coffee, her heart was no longer thundering, and she had called her grandfather to tell him that the counteroffer remained unsigned.

“Does that mean he’s going away? I really liked what he had in mind. His plans for the place. And I like him, too.”

“No. This isn’t necessarily a deal breaker. But the ninety-day close—”

“Since when? I thought it was sixty days?”

“I made that change so you would have plenty of time to find another house, Granddad. Don’t you remember? It was on the first page. You initialed that change.”

“Maybe I forgot. Now what?”

“I’m going to hold another open house in a week or so. In the meantime, all of my regular marketing is on schedule and we will move forward with it. I’ve had several inquiries and I’ll follow up on all of them. All you have to do is sit back and enjoy—enjoy living there—until we have a firm buyer. Maybe a family, like you wanted …” Her voice trailed off.

For some reason, the expectation that she would feel good about this had melted away in her exchange with Mr. Beauregard James. What if he did step away from the deal? What if no one else wanted to buy the house? Would she have to go back to Beau for the only offer that had
come in, hat in hand, practically begging—a mental picture she hated to think about—and offer the house to him without those contingencies?