Chapter Four
Improvisation is my forte, and you bet your bottom dollar I play it to my advantage.
But Cooper Sterling has thrown me a massive curve ball, and one I can’t seem to recover from even an hour after our encounter.
“It was a level beyond awkward,” I tell Sarah, pacing behind my desk in my bare feet.
“There’s not a chance I’m getting that commission.”
Sarah bites her lip, most likely masking her amusement at the disarray of my appearance.
The hour has given me ample time to pull my blonde curls from its up-do, leaving it frayed and haggard.
I’ve talked my lipstick clean off, my once crisp business look is now hanging loose, my top buttons undone in an attempt to breathe.
This is how I deal with embarrassment, confusion, and when things do not go according to plan—destroy the wardrobe!
“Well, you’ve got the open house,” Sarah attempts an encouraging sort of smile.
I’m sure she’s pinning my reaction as an over reaction, but she doesn’t have all the information.
Losing a big client happens every day—that’s not what I’m concerned about at the moment.
I blow out a breath, setting my hands on my waist as I study the view from my teeny tiny office window.
I used to have a direct line to the city park—trees, joggers, birds, a pond.
It was all very cathartic until they built Almonte’s, a Mexican eatery that, while very delicious, doesn’t give off the same vibe.
I tilt my head and snatch my cell from my desk.
Any chance we can move the date to tonight?
I can meet you at Almonte’s after work .
It may not be the ideal place to woo a potential suitor, but it will ease my mind if I have plans tonight instead of dwelling on this insanity.
I send the text off to my sister and then let the phone drop back on top of my messy desk.
“Should we do lunch?” Sarah asks, dragging her finger across her open iPad.
“We have a bit of time between 1:00 and 3:00.”
“I thought Thomas was taking you out.”
She laughs me off.
“I eat with my husband every day.”
I let out a small chuckle at her enthusiasm to ditch her hubs.
Sarah’s in the honeymoon stage of her relationship as far as I can tell, even with the three kids—two with other men and the baby with Thomas.
He slipped a ring on her finger late last year.
He’s currently out of work, which is why Sarah finds herself with me more than him—she’s running herself ragged here—and I’m about to point that out when line one on my phone lights up.
“Maya?” Garrison’s voice comes from the speaker.
My eyes turn to full moons, and I flick them up to Sarah donning an equally moon-struck expression.
“Um, yes Mr. Parks?”
“Are you available to run up to my office?”
Why?
“S-sure thing,” and then the line goes dark again .
“Maybe you were more memorable than you thought,” Sarah says, excitement straightening her spine.
My stomach feels like it’s about to drop straight out my ass.
I take a deep breath and start toward the elevators when Sarah clears her throat and nods to my lack of footwear.
Right… even if the boss wants something as menial as paperwork—which I doubt—I should probably show up in shoes.
After slipping on my heels, I clack my way to the elevator, heart thumping in a cadence much faster than my gait.
Perhaps Mr. Kissy Face has already left.
Meetings like his rarely take longer than an hour, and it’s the only thing somewhat calming the jitters crawling under my skin.
The metal elevator doors shut me in, and a jolt runs through my stomach when I catch my reflection.
I look as if I’m about to travel down the street in the infamous walk of shame.
My fingers fumble around the hem of my shirt as I attempt to tuck it back into place, shakily trying to smooth out the fabric bumps in my pencil skirt.
There is no hope for my hair.
My stomach dips as the floor numbers tick upward, and I yank the pins from my frayed bun, bending at the waist and flipping my hair back and forth like a maniac, hoping that when I rise it gives off a wavy, relaxed effect.
I only end up with a “just out of bed” version…
which is a tick worse than where I was before.
“Fookmer,” I growl, the intelligible expletive covered by the ding of the elevator hitting Parks’ floor.
I hurriedly fasten my hair at the nape with my elastic, unable to see the outcome as the reflective surface disappears into the walls .
“Maya,” my boss says, an unusual smile set on his clean-shaven face.
It’s not as if Garrison and I don’t get along; it’s just normally, business is business, and I don’t get such a friendly greeting.
My eyes drift from my boss’s rare grin and stop on the man sitting in front of Garrison’s massive desk.
I step off the elevator, wobbling in my carelessly strapped on heels.
Cooper rises from his seat, a dimple creasing in his cheek.
I’m reminded of the first time I saw that sucker, and I clench my knees together.
“Mr. Sterling, this is Maya Baker.” Garrison chuckles.
“Is she who you’re looking for?”
My eyes widen, my spine ramrod straight.
Paranoia will kill me some day.
I curl my shaky fingers into balls, begging them to calm down long enough to shake Cooper’s hand.
His skin is rough, nothing I’d expect from a billionaire.
Then again, his attire isn’t what I’d expect either.
“Nice to formally meet you,” he says with a knowing grin, one that makes my skin run a degree hotter but my blood ice over.
I still have no clue what to think of him, and if he thinks money and a rugged demeanor will drop my guard, he better think again.
“Maya,” Garrison interrupts as Cooper drops my hand, “Mr. Sterling is looking for a property up on Rose Summit.”
My eyes swivel to Cooper, who finds my expression laugh-worthy.
“It’s a long story, but there is a place I’ve had my eye on, but it sold before I could get my shit together and hire a realtor. I found another one yesterday, so…” He spreads his arms out.
“Here I am… hoping it hasn’t been sold yet. ”
A wave of relief hits—this is business talk, which I can handle if I can get a grip on myself.
I clear my throat and put on my realtor’s smile.
“Are you not looking to build?” With a bank account like his, I expected to sell him property, not a home.
The two men chuckle, apparently having already gone over this.
“I’m not exactly thrilled about that idea.” Cooper scratches the back of his cap, exposing a toned tricep to match the rest of his upper body.
I take in a deep breath and shake myself into business mode.
“I’ll call the seller…” I say to Garrison, drifting off as I see him shaking his head.
“Before you jump the gun, Mr. Sterling has a few conditions before he hires you.”
I raise an eyebrow, and Cooper laughs.
“He makes them sound frightening.” Cooper reaches for his jacket hanging over the back of his seat.
“I was just going to take you out first.”
My paranoia rushes back, so much so that I trip backward into the elevator doors.
“Um…”
“I mean to brunch or something,” he clarifies with an embarrassed glint in his ocean eyes.
“Talk about what I’m looking for. Maybe… clear up a few things.”
Garrison levels me with a look, telling me silently not to blow this deal.
I don’t need the encouragement, however.
A chance to clear things up sounds golden to me.
I smooth my impromptu ponytail over my shoulder.
“No. ”
Cooper’s bushy eyebrow arches at my bluntness.
I allow myself a small laugh at his expense—it’s nice to know I can throw him off his guard.
“I’m taking you out.”