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“I’m guessing it was too much of a bachelor pad for your taste.” Even though it had been just down the street from his ex.
“It didn’t exactly spell family,” he agreed drily.
Eve brought out the specs she had previously sent him. She refreshed his memory with a few photos from the sales brochure while they sat at a stoplight. “You may like the next one.”
“Daddy!”
Derek glanced at his daughter via the rearview mirror. She looked ready to start fussing at any moment. “Hi, honey,” he said, turning around to smile at her briefly, before picking up the conversation where they’d left off. “I hope so,” he stated quietly. “Tiffany’s been a trouper, but she’s really tired.”
Unfortunately, the next property elicited as many frowns and scowls from both Derek and his little girl as the first two had. Luckily, there was no open house going on, so they were free to talk frankly. “What is it you don’t like about it?” Eve asked, trying to get a handle on what it was Derek truly wanted in a home.
He walked around the huge rooms.
Part of the estate of a late oil tycoon, it had been built in the early eighties, and recently staged and updated in sophisticated neutral palettes.
“Let me count the ways,” he said, placating the little girl he held in his arms with the baby bottle of apple juice he’d brought in with them. “The marble floors are way too cold and hard. The floor plan is awful, and I think the spiral staircase could be dangerous for a kid.”
Okay, Eve noted, that was a start.
She edged closer. “It’s five streets over from your ex’s home. The staircase could be replaced. And it has a nice big backyard with a fence, and room for a really nice play set.”
Finished with her juice, Tiffany pushed the empty baby bottle at Eve, then reached out and touched Eve’s hair. The little girl smiled as she got a fistful, and held on tight.
Afraid to move, Eve smiled back at her and stayed very still.
Derek came to the rescue, his touch tender as he extricated her from his daughter. Which in turn made Eve wonder what kind of lover he would be. Probably excellent, if her feminine intuition was any indication. Not that she should be thinking this way...
“It also has a pool,” he continued, while Eve put the empty bottle back in the diaper bag slung over his broad shoulder. “I don’t think I want a swimming pool with a toddler around, fenced or not. Maybe when she’s older. Not now.”
Aware that Tiffany was looking restless again, Eve rummaged in the diaper bag and found a set of plastic baby keys she could play with. “Pools can be taken out. The entire decor can be changed.”
Tiffany grinned and shook the keys in both her tiny fists until they rattled.
Derek continued glancing around. “It would still be way too big.”
As would all the properties in the seven-to eight-million-dollar range, Eve thought, since the asking price was directly related to the amount of square footage.
Trying to be helpful, she asked, “Do you want to look at something smaller?”
His jaw set in that stubborn way she was beginning to know so well. Tiffany grabbed the sunglasses tucked into the neckline of his cashmere sweater, shook them once and threw them to the floor. They landed with a clatter but, to Eve’s relief, didn’t break.
“I wanted there to be parity in our homes.” Derek set Tiffany down on the floor. Happy to be able to flex her legs, she grabbed the keys and sunglasses and toddled happily around the foyer, babbling all the while.
“Okay,” Eve said.
Derek blocked the way to the staircase, keeping an eye on his daughter while studying Eve shrewdly. “You don’t agree with that objective, though.”
There he went, putting her on the spot again. Although it wasn’t always what a client wanted, Eve decided yet again to be honest. She shrugged and knelt down to engage Tiffany with another toy the little girl had previously discarded. “Your homes are going to be different, no matter the square footage and price tag.”
Tiffany took the stuffed bunny and sat down on the floor to examine it.
Confident that the toddler was entertained, at least for the moment, Eve rose. She looked her handsome client in the eye and continued, “Carleen has a husband and seven kids, if you count Craig’s. At your place, it’s just going to be the two of you.” Eve paused to let that fact sink in, and then forged on. “Tiffany is going to feel the difference. It doesn’t mean she’ll like one place any more or any less, especially at this age. Your home should reflect who you are, what you want, Derek. Not what Carleen and Craig need and want for their brood.”
Tiffany stood and grabbed her daddy’s jean-clad legs. “So something cozier.” Derek smiled and picked her up.
His daughter nestled against his chest, as if in heaven, a reaction Eve could understand, given who Tiffany was nestling against. It had to feel great, being that close to Derek. She knew she would be happy with his big, strong arms wrapped around her.
“There are smaller homes in this area,” she told him. “Some have been redone, some not. In any case, the price tag will be quite different.” Which, Eve knew, could be a deal-breaker for a venture capitalist who also wanted a house as a monetary investment.
Derek squinted. “How different?”
“It depends on how small you want to go. Not to mention the overall condition of the property.”
Derek sighed as Tiffany grabbed his sweater with both hands and let out an impatient shout. “Bye-bye!”
He headed out the door. “Meaning we have to keep looking.”
Eve paused to lock up. “If you want to be happy with your choice, you do.”
He glanced at his watch. “I have to take Tiffany back to Carleen.”
It was almost five-thirty. “You want to call it a day, then?” Eve asked, unable to help but feel a little disappointed that their time together would soon be ending.
“Actually,” he said, as if reading her mind and feeling the same way, “I’d like to keep looking tonight.”
“Okay, then,” Eve smiled. “Let’s do it.”
* * *
“I THINK WE should stop. At least for today,” Eve said, an exhausting three hours later.
Darkness had fallen a long time ago. They had physically gone through two more homes, and driven by eight more, only to have Derek dismiss them out of hand for one reason or another.
“After a while, everything begins to blur together. We can start again tomorrow if you like.” Plus, without Tiffany as a tiny chaperone and constant distraction, Eve found herself way too physically aware of her hunky client.
The only good thing was that once they had dropped his daughter off, they’d been able to swing by the office so she could pick up her car and do the driving. While Derek concentrated on perusing the neighborhoods from the passenger seat, she tried hard not to think about how intimate it felt to have him sitting so close beside her.
“What about that one?” His mind evidently where it should be, Derek pointed to a cozy English Tudor‒style cottage with a for-sale sign in front.
Grateful for the latest diversion, Eve steered her car to the curb. Up and down the street, homes were lit up with Christmas lights. However, the one in front of them was dark and neglected. Familiar with the original 1960s interior, she warned, “It’s a fixer-upper. Nowhere near move-in ready. And way below your target price.”
Derek continued to stare at the ivy-covered brick. “I’d like to see it, anyway.”
They wouldn’t need an appointment; this property was on lockbox. She could let them in.
“Okay,” Eve said, thinking that if anything were to end his desire to keep looking, this particular property would be it. She cut the ignition and led the way up to the front porch. Inside, it was worse than she remembered from the initial agents tour: chill and dank. Bad carpeting, outdated everything.
“What’s the story on the property?” Derek asked.
She continued switching on overhead lights. “The owner has gone into a nursing home. The family isn’t interested in doing anything to the house.” Hence, it had been cleared of all belongings, but not staged or in any way adequately prepared for sale. “They’re hoping it will go as a teardown.”
He shot her a questioning look.
“Which means that someone will buy it for the lot—which is a premium—demolish this property and start from scratch,” she explained.
Derek ran a hand over a wall in the study. He shook his head admiringly at the built-in bookshelves and ornate trim. “Look at this wood.”
“Paneling’s not really popular these days.”
“I like it.”
The client was always right. And it could be stripped and refinished to give it a more updated look. “It’s very masculine.”
He pivoted and regarded her speculatively, as if wondering if she was playing him.
She wasn’t.
After a moment, he seemed to accept that.
Eve sobered. “I want you to see the kitchen, though.”
They walked down the hall to the rear of the house. Eve hit another switch. Derek blinked at the orange-yellow-and-brown-plaid vinyl wallpaper. “Talk about a blast from the past,” he murmured.
The laminate counters were also bright orange, the floor a speckled linoleum. “I know,” Eve sympathized, looking past the grime-smeared windows and severely outdated appliances. “Really awful, hmm?”
He peered at a cobweb overhead. “It could use a good cleaning, that’s for certain.”
Eve moved her foot away from something sticky on the floor. “No joke.”
Derek came closer. He stood next to her, thoughtfully looking around, his steady presence and the warmth of his tall, strong body a nice counterpoint to the lingering chill inside the home. “But with all new appliances...”
Ignoring the tingling deep inside her, along with the wish the two of them had met some other time, some other way, Eve drew a deep breath and pointed out the rest of the flaws. “It’s going to need brand-new cabinets, counters, flooring and updated lighting, too.” She turned abruptly, her shoulder bumping against his bicep. “The kitchen alone would cost you at least fifty thousand. Then there’s the furnace and air conditioning, and it will also most likely need all new electrical and plumbing.”
“How much are they asking?”
Doing her best to tamp down her continuing awareness, Eve showed him the listing information left on the kitchen counter. “One point five million, but that’s too high for the condition of this house.” She led the way up to the second floor. There were four nice-sized bedrooms and two full baths, one off the hall and one off the master bedroom.
Derek continued to look around with real interest. “What do you think it should be going for?”
Eve studied the worn carpeting and cramped, outdated bathrooms, the dingy walls and lack of adequate closet space. “One point two million, max. And that’s mostly due to the location.” She turned back to Derek, in full business mode, but found herself temporarily blinded by his brilliant blue eyes. “I’d, uh, be tempted to go in at one point one million, and then let them talk you back to one point two, as the most you would pay. Although, with your time frame, wanting to be in before Christmas, I can’t recommend you take this on.”
Derek stood, legs braced apart, hands on his waist, still looking around. “Surely you know contractors who would be willing to do whatever it took, particularly if bonus pay was involved.”
He really was serious. “I do.” Despite herself, Eve began to get excited, too.
Derek walked around some more, as if dreaming about what a good infusion of cash and a little tender loving care could do for this home. He swung back toward her. “Could you get it done in a week?”
Good heavens, the man was demanding! But all of a sudden willing to be ambitious, too, Eve straightened her spine and replied, “Maybe two, if we come to terms with the sellers right away, and you’re willing to pay time and a half for the entire job.”
He shrugged off the problem. “I’m okay with that.”
They finished looking around the bedrooms and went back downstairs. “Why this house?” she asked curiously, turning off another bank of lights.
Derek shook his head. He prowled the first floor, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t know. Something about the way it looks. Feels.” He turned to her with a grin, certain now. “I want to put an offer in tonight.”
Eve studied him. She hated snap decisions when it came to something this important. “You’re sure this is what you want?” she asked finally.
Derek nodded.
The light in his eyes, his sheer enthusiasm, were irresistible. Okay, then. They went back to her office again.
Eve called the other Realtor to let her know an offer was coming in, and then wrote up the contract. She had barely faxed it over when her cell phone rang. Derek’s offer, to take the house as is, without inspection, had been accepted.
He grinned. “Looks like I just bought myself a house!” he said, wrapping Eve in a warm, Texas-style hug. It was the kind of embrace people gave each other after the winning goal in a football game. Yet the brief expression of exaltation left her tingling and on edge long after they broke apart.
Eve congratulated Derek again, more formally this time, and then bid him good-night. It was a good thing her business with Derek McCabe was almost over. She was going to have a hard enough time forgetting the powerful attraction she felt for him as it was.
* * *
EVE WAS STILL thinking about the congratulatory hug from Derek—and her unprecedented reaction to it—when she went to the hospital the next morning to help with her mother’s transfer.
As expected, even though the facility was bright and cheerful, Marjorie was less than enthusiastic about her upcoming stay in the cardiac rehab unit.
“I’d rather just go home,” she grumbled, accepting the bag of comfortable clothing Eve had brought her.
Aware of the irony in taking on the parental role in their relationship, Eve handed over her mother’s computer tablet and the weekend newspapers. “This is a necessary part of your recovery, Mom.” Although she doubted her mother would change anything about her life without putting up a heck of a fight.
Marjorie made a face and removed the real estate inserts from both papers. “Have you found Derek McCabe a house yet?”
Grateful for the change of subject, Eve gave her the details.
Her mom blinked. “I thought he was in the market for an eight-million-dollar home!”
Eve knew a transaction of that magnitude would have likely given them a solid lead in the annual sales race. Refusing to feel guilty for doing what was right for her client, however, she explained, “He decided he wanted something much smaller in scope and more baby-friendly. The good news is he’s very happy.”
Or at least he had been the night before. Eve still had the feeling it was all happening a little too fast for comfort.
Her sense of foreboding increased the next day.
She had been given permission to get contractors in to look at the property in advance of the closing, and she went to the house to let them in. By the time they’d finished, Derek had arrived. The kitchen and bath designer, plumber, electrician, flooring rep and painters all conferred with him, and promised to have formal estimates for him the following morning.
Bad news relayed, they filed out, one by one.
Leaving Derek and Eve alone.
“So what do you think?” she asked, looking around at the empty house. The heating and ventilation system was out of commission, so the interior was chilly and dank. A light rain was falling, and on this gloomy December day the house seemed even more in need of tender loving care. “Feel overwhelmed yet?”
Derek shook his head. “Excited.”
