Jamie Pope - Surrender At Sunset

Virginia laughed, just imagining Willa in front of her desk in her little New York apartment dancing to celebrate her success. They had happy danced when Willa had gotten her first book deal. “I got the job,” she sang as she shook her hips. “I got the job.” Now they were dancing for her.

* * *

Carlos came up behind Virginia only to catch her dancing as she held the phone to her ear. A foreign sound escaped his mouth and he realized that he was laughing. She had done that to him, made him see the humor in something when for so long he hadn’t been able to find anything to bring a smile to his face. But she’d done it. She was the only one who’d managed it, even though others had tried. She was just herself. Her blunt, quirky self. Maybe he was crazy to offer her the job on the spot. She could be a maniac. But he wanted her, and he always got what he wanted.

Her back was to him so she couldn’t see him, and he was glad because he got to look at her shaking her rump as long as he wanted. He knew her dance wasn’t meant to be seductive, but he felt himself harden. It may have been because she was woman and he was a man who had gone a long time without one. But it had to be more than that. She’d called him out on dating a twenty-one-year-old model and she was right. Looking at her now, that girl couldn’t compare to her. No swimsuit model could.

He wondered what was going on under that long dress. Were her legs as shapely as her hips? Was the skin on her chest as smooth as the skin on her shoulders looked? Did her behind look as luscious and round as it appeared through all that fabric?

She turned around suddenly, her mouth open slightly. She had pretty lips. He had noticed that about her, too.

“Gotta go, Wils. He caught me.”

He could hear the sound of feminine laughter before they disconnected.

“I promise I’ll be professional while I’m on this job. I have references if you want to check. I’m always on time. I mind my manners and I’m efficient.”

“I don’t care if you like to dance on the job as long as you get it done. That means not having me wait fourteen months for some lamps. No renovations that are going to take longer than a year.”

“I understand. I know some great contractors.”

“Good, and you stay out of my bedroom. I don’t want it touched and I don’t want to be bothered during the day. If you’ve got a problem, handle it yourself.”

“Okay.” She nodded.

“One more thing. You’ve got to live here.” He’d thought about putting her up in town, but that was a twenty-minute drive every day. It just made sense to keep her closer.

“Live here? I’ve never lived with a client before.”

“There’s a first time for everything. Do you agree to that stipulation?”

She hesitated for a moment. “Yes. I agree.”

“Good. You’ll take the suite on the first floor. I’ll call the car back for you. You start on Monday.”

Chapter 3

Virginia arrived at Carlos’s door that Monday with her entire life in two large suitcases. She was going to be living there for the next few months, with a man she only knew bits and pieces about from the things she heard on TV or read on the internet. Part of her was nervous about it. This job was so huge. It could change the course of her career or be a huge, epic failure.

Virginia was used to epic failures. All her past relationships were. Her former life as a painter was, too, according to her mother. She’d tried to put that behind her, but as she was driven down the long single-lane road that led to Carlos’s house she couldn’t help but be moved by the natural raw beauty of the island. It made her wonder what this island would look like depicted in oils.

She didn’t normally do landscapes. She preferred people and capturing emotion on canvas, but her fingers itched to pick up a paintbrush and capture the emotion of the land, the rich green from the palm trees, the bursts of bright pink from the flowers. The ocean at sunrise. Or the waves that crashed against the shore at sunset. There was so much to see, she thought she might never tire of looking at it all. But she wasn’t there to paint. She had a job to do.

The front door opened and Carlos stood there. He wore another T-shirt and shorts. His feet were in sneakers. Everything about him screamed jock. And everything, from the way he held his powerful body to the way he looked at her, was appealing. Which was ironic, because he was exactly the type of guy she would have stayed away from in high school and college. Now he was making her hormones go crazy. Maybe it had been too long since her last relationship. Maybe she was in serious need of some sexual release.

It couldn’t happen with him, though. He was a client. She might drive some of her past clients to the airport and clean up after their dogs, but sleeping with them was where she drew the line. Of course, none of her other clients looked like exotic hard-bodied gods. But that didn’t matter, because even if she’d been less than professional getting the job, she would be on her best behavior during it.

“Were you going to ring the bell or just stand there all day?”

“Sorry. I was thinking. How did you know I was here?”

“Cameras.” He took the largest suitcase away from her as he studied her.

She was normally a fairly confident person, but the way he looked at her made her feel a little like a self-conscious thirteen-year-old again. But she was dressed smartly today. No flowy hippie dress. No wild untamed curls. She wore gray slacks and a turquoise blouse with a delicate bow at the collar. Her skin was completely covered and she would have worn a blazer if the Florida humidity hadn’t been a touch too much.

“Why are you so dressed up today?” He stepped aside, letting her into the house.

“Despite the way I acted the first time we met, I assure you I am a professional. And from here on out I plan to treat you with the respect you deserve, the respect I would give to any other client.”

He kicked the door closed, not looking at all impressed by her statement. “If you would have shown up her the other day wearing this shirt, I wouldn’t have hired you.” He walked away from her, deeper into the house.

“What? Why?” She followed, looking down at her shirt. It wasn’t her personal style but there was nothing offensive about it.

“It’s stupid.”

“My mother bought me this shirt and she’s the smartest person I know. I’m going to tell her you said that.”

He looked back at her. The corner of his mouth had curved into a smile and she just about fainted right there on the spot. He was a beautiful man, there was no denying that, but when he smiled at her the way he did, with just a tiny bit of mischief in his eyes, he was damn sexy.

“I’m not afraid of your mother. I think I can handle her.”

“Do you? I’m afraid of her. Think you can give me a few tips?”

His smile widened and, if possible, grew sexier. It caused heat to spread through her belly, and she knew she was in trouble. Never in her life had a simple smile aroused her. But Carlos Bradley seemed to make impossible things happen to her. “My mother can be scary, too. I’ve got nothing for you.”

Leaving her suitcase near the door, he took her through the great room again, and this time she noted the two beautiful winding staircases that led to the second floor and a massive fireplace with an intricately carved mantel in the center of the back wall. She’d been so overwhelmed the first time she was there she hadn’t been able to take it all in, but now she could see the details, the little things that made the place special.

He took her down the long hallway that they had passed on the way to the family room the other day. There were marble floors in different shades of creams and tans, and a little sitting area by the elegantly curved window in the middle of it all that showed distant views of the ocean. “It’s so private back here,” she said, more to herself than to him. “You would barely know if someone else was home.”