Helen Myers - It Started with a House....

“Help.”

There was another pause, then her weak, “You’re not playing fair.”

“Darling, I’m not playing at all. If you don’t agree to help me, I’ll have to hire a perfect stranger, and I don’t want a stranger around, I want you. When you aren’t driving me to distraction, you’re a balm to my weary soul.”

“You seem to be overlooking that I have a job.”

“Not at all. This could be lunch dates, dinner dates and getting-to-know-you weekends. No pressure, no rush.”

“I think I already experienced your idea of ‘no pressure.’”

“But as you noted, you kissed me back.” Heartened by the wry tone in her voice, he entreated, “I improve over wine and with time.” To his relief, Genevieve managed a genuine chuckle. Growing serious again, Marshall added, “Genevieve, I’ll unpack and set things out, but you have an eye, I can see that. And you have the added benefit of having seen many of the properties in the area and undoubtedly have seen what works and what doesn’t.” He softened his voice. “I promise to be the gentleman you want me to be until you feel comfortable with taking things to another level.”

She was silent for several more seconds and then said, “I have to take this call. Let me think about it, okay?”

“Fair enough.”

As Marshall disconnected, he wasn’t entirely satisfied. He would have liked her to say that she would call him back later, see him tonight, but at least she hadn’t turned him down outright. He would have to find the patience to wait for her to give him what she could of herself. Just the thought had him feeling restless and depressed again. But remembering what he’d promised her, he went to attack the nearest stack of boxes.

As soon as Genevieve disconnected from the call that had been holding on her office phone, Avery Pageant pushed open her door and with her usual untimid style draped herself over the nearest of the two chairs facing the cluttered desk. Avery’s exotic Eastern scent followed then settled around the brunette like an intoxicating presence signaling anyone without eyes that she wasn’t a woman who expected to be overlooked or taken for granted.

“Since when do you close your office door when you aren’t with clients?” she asked, glancing at Genevieve over her red reading glasses.

Genevieve didn’t stop shuffling through the yellow phone messages their receptionist-secretary Ina Bargas had handed her when she’d entered the building, but she knew it was useless to ignore the question entirely. If anyone was more persistent than her mother, it was this woman, whom fellow agent Raenne Hartley teasingly dubbed “Dragon Lady.” “I needed a few minutes before this interrogation commenced. But now that you’re here, how are you?”

“Taking some exception to the term interrogation. I think we should open a bottle of wine at your place or mine after work—yours, mine hasn’t been dusted or vacuumed in ten days—and get in some serious girl talk.”

Genevieve dropped the phone messages, only to gesture expansively. “Are you not looking at this disaster? I’ll be here making sense of things until at least nine tonight.”

“The price of success. Cooperative soul that I am, I volunteer to go get the wine and help you. We can talk in between phone calls and printouts. It’ll be the working woman’s pajama party.”

“I have a better idea—I’ll buy you a bottle of wine if you’ll go away.”

“I actually sold more property than you did this month, I can buy my own wine. Talk to me, darn it. He’s made you all hot and bothered—and that’s a good thing.”

“I’m not ready, Avery.”

“Elaborate, please. You’re not ready for a relationship or to talk about what happened at his place?”

Oh, murder, Genevieve thought, did she have every thought mirrored on her face? “I will give you my very next referral regardless of the potential value of the property if you will please change the subject.”

Looking a bit impatient, the brunette crossed her legs, her black designer slacks whispering as linen brushed linen. Then she straightened the collar of her red silk shirt. “You may not think four years is long enough to prove that you were devoted to Adam, but from this side of our age difference, I assure you, I’m convinced. I suspect so is every person in this freaking town who is watching you waste your youth.”

Aghast at her boldness, particularly since Avery had divorced twice, Genevieve gasped. “Stop it! You have no right to tell me how I should feel or behave. You don’t know a thing about it.”

“No, I don’t. But I have a right to worry about you.”

Her sudden tender tone and gentle look had Genevieve shaking her head. “Thank you,” she grumbled.

“The truth is I’d like to feel that deeply about someone just once,” Avery replied ruefully. “So was that Mr. Hold-On-To-Your-Heart Roark you were talking to on your BlackBerry just now? You just left him and he’s already calling you? Why couldn’t I have been born a honey-eyed blonde?”

“You’re perfect just the way you are,” Genevieve replied in total honesty. “A little scary at times, but I know there are strong men who aren’t intimidated by that.”

Avery sucked in her cheeks as she continued her speculation, which added to the sharpness of her high cheekbones and sharper chin. With her ear-length bob, the rinse-enhanced brunette reminded Genevieve of a modern-day Cleopatra, who had also been purported to be no great beauty, but a captivating character nonetheless.

“Trying to shut me up with flattery?”

“Did it work?”

“Almost.” Avery tilted her head as she studied her. “You may not want to hear this either, but I do think it’s started.”

That got Genevieve’s attention. “What has?”

“The remoteness that’s been like a fog around you all this time. It’s lifting. You’re less the Ghost of Genevieve Past and more present. Bravo.”

Sneaky, conniving woman, Genevieve thought, returning to sorting her files into stacks. But she was determined not to be totally suckered in by Avery. “Thank you…I think.”

“Damn it, G.G., don’t make me wish your luscious Mr. Roark would have called me instead of you. He’s what, closing in on forty?”

“Thirty-eight.”

For a moment Avery was nonplussed, then she shrugged. “That’s only four years younger than me. He does comes off as older.”

“He takes life seriously. In case you haven’t noticed, he’s had reason to.”

“I could redirect his focus. Maybe even teach him a few things.”

“I doubt it.”

Snickering, Avery rose. “Well done, Sleeping Beauty. Okay, I’ve had my fun.” She floated the paper she’d come in with so that it landed in front of Genevieve covering what she’d been pretending to peruse. “I just wanted you to know I’m dropping the Ferris property. It’s overpriced and you’ll see by my notes on all of the calls I’ve received after viewings that prospective buyers concur.”

Genevieve winced at the number of negative comments. “Are Mr. and Mrs. Ferris that clueless about the market that they’re resisting a price adjustment?”

“Blinded by ego and greed.” A veteran in the business, Avery pulled no punches. “Like too many, they feel a smart buyer will recognize all that they’re getting for that money.”

Genevieve studied the address to refresh her memory. “Okay, but isn’t this the house at the end of a dirt road where people have used the woods for dumping?”

“Bingo. Quite an attractive and well-kept property, but out of the city limits. Those woods could have a trailer parked on adjoining land next week and a meth lab operation thereafter. Too much of a risk for a buyer.”