Karen Van Der Zee - A Love Untamed

‘All right, you get the contract ready and I’ll have a look at it.’

After Mrs Fletcher had left, Livia made herself some soup and crackers and went back to work. She put the train set and the other toys in the room Clint had slept in. She stared at his duffel bag, her stomach churning. She wanted him gone. Maybe signing a contract would get him out of the house.

It’s the place I call home…

Just imagine coming home and finding your house has been sold out from under you…

Damn, damn! She hated feeling this way. As if she owed him something. As if she was guilty of something.

She lay awake for a long time that night, listening for his car, but it never came. Finally she fell into an exhausted sleep.

The next day she emptied one more bedroom and took up what seemed like miles of carpeting, listening all the time for his car, feeling nervous and jittery and hating herself for it.

Clint came back just after eight that evening. From the living-room window she saw him climb out of his car and her heart turned over. He looked like a different man. He wore new clothes—stone-coloured cotton trousers, navy jacket, a shirt and tie. His shoes gleamed with newness. His hair had been cut. Everything about him was crisp and streamlined—an image of professional confidence and authority. He even carried a leather briefcase. Very impressive.

She wasn’t too impressive herself in her dirty jeans and T-shirt, but that was the way it went. She slipped back to the kitchen, feeling a breathless sense of trepidation. What would he think when he saw the house, which was now basically empty apart from his bedroom and one small room on the third floor?

‘Hello, Livia.’

‘Hi.’ She felt tense all over. Brittle. Angry. ’the door has a bell,’ she said coolly. ‘Please use it.’

He ignored it, put the briefcase on the kitchen table and opened it. He extracted some papers. ‘I have something for you to look at.’

She glanced at the papers. It wasn’t difficult to see what it was. A contract for the right of first refusal.

‘I understand Mrs Fletcher was here to discuss this with you yesterday afternoon.’

‘Yes.’ She glanced quickly over the paper. Then her eyes stopped. He intended to pay two thousand dollars. Cash, non-refundable. It was way more than the average fee. It was a very generous offer.

Her stomach churned. There was no reasonable way to refuse this deal. It was excellent business on her part to accept it. It would give her valuable cash upfront while she was doing all the work. And she was free to do what she wanted with the house.

But would she be? She bit her lip.

‘Is something wrong?’

‘No.’ She swallowed. ‘You’re willing to pay a high fee.’

‘I want to make sure you have no reason to refuse,’ he said evenly.

She didn’t. Not any reason that would make sense. Only reasons for which she had no words. Feelings, fears, apprehensions. And the damned little fairy jumping up and down inside her.

She collected herself. This was absurd. It was nothing more than a standard business agreement and the price was right. More than right. She sat down and began to read more carefully, making sure all was in order.

All was. It was a simple agreement, wrapped in legalistic jargon with which she was quite familiar by now.

’do we have a deal?’ He was still standing, looming over her, tall and commanding.

She met his eyes. ‘It would be unreasonable to refuse it, wouldn’t it?’

He gave a crooked smile. ‘Yes, it would be,’ he said quietly. There was something else in his voice, something beyond the calm tone. Anxiety plucked at her insides.

‘And if I want to be unreasonable?’ she asked.

He leaned towards her, bracing his hands on the table, his face close to hers. ’then so will I.’ There was a devilish gleam in his black eyes. ‘I will haunt you, sweet Olivia. One way or another I will own this house again, don’t doubt it for a moment.’

She didn’t. Once she was done with it it would be up for sale. Anybody with money could buy it. She shrugged. ‘I don’t doubt it.’ He was so close that she could smell the warm male scent of him. It had a disastrous effect on her heart rate.

He straightened, and tapped the document with a brown finger. ‘You sign this and I’ll get my things and be gone.’ Pushing his jacket back, he slipped his hands in his trouser pockets and observed her calmly, waiting for a reply.

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