assumptions again. All I know is the driver stood with the sign until everyone was gone and no Connor O’Brian.”
“He has to be somewhere. His hotel? Did you check there?” She thumped the sign, which immediately fell over, so she kicked it for good measure. When had her life taken a wrong turn?
“Of course I checked.” Lisa’s voice brought her back to the conversation. “If he’s on Mustang Island, he hasn’t checked in yet.”
“Great.” Andrea sighed and glanced around. Was there a man in the car across the street? A second glance revealed nothing. “Well, keep trying to find him. We can only assume he’ll show up for his appointment this afternoon.” She added a quick thanks to her assistant and disconnected.
Connor slumped lower in the seat and held his breath. He could have sworn the woman looked straight at him. A buzz vibrated his hip. He pulled his cell from the holster. “Hello?” he said in a low voice.
“Where the hell are you?” His friend and financial advisor, Bill Farnsworth, bellowed. “I came to have a drink with you before your flight, and you were nowhere to be found.”
“Bill, I was only going to Mustang Island. I think seeing me off was overkill.”
“Not for you. It was for me. I wanted to make sure you actually left town this time. I need a break.”
“You poor slob. I know managing my finances is a real drain on you. Wait! Isn’t that why you became an advisor?” He could feel his muscles tensing, so he focused on the shapely behind of the woman and took a deep breath.
“Don’t be an ass. You’re my friend. I enjoy working for you. But I need a life, too, you know. I’m hoping you’ll meet Miss Right and get married and have nine kids. And if you spend just five minutes a day with each child, it will free up forty-five minutes a day I can have all to myself. Is that too much to ask of an old friend?”
Bill was right about him needing a vacation, Connor realized as he pressed the disconnect button after the call. Granted, looking for vacation property wasn’t technically it, but it was as close as he was able to get at the moment.
“That son of a bitch!” Andrea slammed down the phone on her desk, then fumed while she checked her nails for chips. Bad enough that Rich, her ex, was still mucking with her life, chipping a newly manicured nail would be the final straw of her lousy day.
“Problem?” Lisa peeked around the door of Andrea’s office as though afraid what she might find.
“If Richard Redd was here right now, I’d cheerfully strangle him.” Slumping back in the smooth burgundy leather desk chair, Andrea closed her eyes and rubbed her aching temples. “Then I’d castrate him with a dull butcher knife, just for fun.”
“What’d he do now?”
“Stole another damn listing. The Hendersons just told me they decided to go with him instead of Redd Hot Properties.” She opened her eyes to see Lisa edging into the room, mail in her outstretched hand, and sighed. “Lisa, relax. I’ve told you before—I don’t blame you for anything he does. Or doesn’t do.”
“Thanks to my mother’s dip into the shallow end of the gene pool, before she had the good sense to marry my dad, I’m still related to the scumbag.”
Andrea regarded her best friend and ex-sister-in-law with a smile. “Well, at least something good came out of me being married to him. I met you.”
“BFF. That’s sweet.” Lisa glanced at her watch. “But if you don’t get a move on, you’ll be late to meet Connor O’Brian.”
“Connor O’Brian?” Andrea shifted some papers on her desk and scrolled through her appointment list. “I assume you found him, then?”
“Yeah, turns out he took an earlier flight and rented a car. He called while you were out.” She motioned to Andrea’s phone. “I sank all the data for you. With traffic, you need to leave ASAP. Like now.”
Andrea retrieved her purse from the desk drawer. “The preapproval letter is in order, right?”
Lisa chewed on her lower lip. “Well, not exactly.”
“What is it…exactly?”
“Not here yet. But I’m sure it will be, any time now,” Lisa rushed to assure her. “Ray wouldn’t have referred him if he didn’t have the money.”
“True, but you know my policy. I don’t waste my time on clients without a preapproval of some kind.” She dug in her purse, finally dumping the contents on the desk. “Where are my damn keys?”
“In your car, I assume. Remember? You sent it to be detailed this morning. It’s out front.”
“Right. I knew that.” Andrea stood and smoothed her skirt. “Pick all that up for me…please? I’m going to brush my teeth and do a quick makeup check.”
“IOI.” Lisa reached for the pile on the desk.
Pausing at the door to her private bathroom, Andrea turned. “What?”
“I’m on it.” Lisa did an eye-roll. “OMG.”
“Cut it out, Lisa.” Andrea twirled. “Do you think I should swing by home and change? I wouldn’t want to give the old guy a heart attack.” She chuckled. “At least not before he buys a house.”
Her assistant smiled one of her damn wan smiles, the ones that always made Andrea nervous. “No prob.”
Closing her eyes and counting to ten didn’t lessen the feeling of foreboding Lisa’s smiles always conjured. “I’m not going to waste precious time with twenty questions.” She leveled her gaze on her assistant. “If you’re withholding vital information, I suggest you get your résumé in order because you’re fired.”
“NBD.”
2
Andrea tossed her keys to the valet and strode through the revolving door of MacClairen’s, girding herself for the inevitable feelings of inadequacy that always washed over her when entering the posh hotel. Logically, she knew it was a throwback to her less-than-fiscally-healthy beginning. A knee-jerk reaction.
Less than five minutes later, she breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped out of the private elevator onto the lavishly polished marble entry of the penthouse suite.
She could do this. A deep breath gave her oxygen-deprived lungs a moment to relax. Rolling her shoulders helped. It was a common occurrence; a lot of people held their breath on elevators.
Girding her business persona, she briskly tapped the polished brass knocker, pushing aside the niggling misgiving about Connor O’Brian’s lack of preapproval. Surely it was an oversight. It would arrive any time.
The door swung wide, derailing her worrisome train of thought.
The young man standing in the open doorway cocked his head as he perused her from head to stiletto and back again, his sun-streaked blond hair falling boyishly over his forehead.
He was gorgeous—she’d give him that—and he probably knew it. No doubt girls flocked around him like homing pigeons.
She preferred her men more…mature. Casual sophistication that came with age was very…reassuring. Comforting. You knew where you stood with older men. They knew how to play the game, censure their facial expressions.
Unlike the young wannabe stud before her, who was all but drooling as his heated green gaze licked her from head to toe, pausing at all the tingling spots.
Which was utterly ridiculous. She was too old to tingle.
She straightened and glared her fiercest don’t-fuck-with-me look.
He had the audacity to grin, his teeth white and straight in his guileless face. His long finger pushed up a pair of rimless glasses she hadn’t