“But...” Charlotte had already discharged her only arguments. She didn’t really have any other means of selling herself. She was, as always, an unproven proposition. “I’m family. Surely that counts for something. It’s the Grand Legacy. This isn’t some random building you and Noah decided to sink money into.” She could see Sawyer’s eyes soften and she knew she had to open up her heart. “I love the hotel so much, and being there over the last few days has been amazing. Isn’t it important to have someone who really, truly cares?”
“You don’t know that this other agent doesn’t care. I’ve had multiple conversations with Michael Kelly about this over the last few months and I can tell you that he absolutely cares.”
Charlotte’s heart had stopped beating. Or at least it felt that way. Unwanted visions of Michael popped into her head—all six feet and six inches of his trim and muscled swimmer’s body. He might have crushed her heart, but he’d looked good doing it, with his thick, dark hair she loved to comb her fingers through, and magnetic blue eyes she could get lost in for days. “Michael Kelly? Seriously?”
“Do you know him? He’s a really good guy. Straight shooter. He cares a lot. He’s told me so.”
Charlotte blew out a breath. Michael Kelly cared, all right—about himself, money and his job. Everyone else was going to have to fend for themselves.
* * *
Michael knew he didn’t have much more time in the pool this morning. Just a few more laps. He touched the tile wall with his hand and took his turn, propelling himself through the water, beneath the surface, to return to the other end.
The rhythm of swimming relaxed him. After tens of thousands of hours spent in the pool, his muscles knew exactly what to do, and he could give his brain some space to roam. This was the only time during his day that he was unreachable, his cell phone turned off and tucked away in his personal locker at the brand-new Empire State Athletic Club, an expensive and exclusive replacement for the old Downtown Athletic Club, which had been converted to apartments years ago. He loved this sliver of his day, when he had a chance to unplug. Owning and running the top residential real-estate agency in the city, The Kelly Group, meant that he was otherwise expected to be available 24/7, 365 days a year.
He made another turn and switched to freestyle, the stroke that had won him three Olympic golds. He always ended his swim this way. It was a powerful reminder of what had once been, of everything he’d worked so hard for and, most important, what it felt like to win. Coming out on top was a high unlike any other, and after his retirement from swimming six years ago, he’d been working his butt off in real estate just to get a taste of that feeling. He lived for that moment when you’re invincible, standing at the top of the mountain, looking down at everyone else that couldn’t match up to you. There was no roar of the crowd or medals awarded in real estate, but the money helped. And there had been a lot of it, not that there wasn’t always more to earn.
He skimmed along in the water at the end of his final lap, came to the surface, pulled off his swim cap and tossed it onto the pool deck. He scooped water into his hair and hoisted himself up out of the pool, grabbing his towel. There was one other person still in the pool—Gabe Underwood. Gabe had taken up swimming a year ago, when he also set his sights on knocking Michael from his perch of top-selling real-estate agent in Manhattan. Gabe certainly knew he wasn’t in the same league as Michael when it came to the sport that had won him Olympic medals, but he insisted that he wanted to remind Michael that he was on his heels and closing in.
It was annoying, but Michael couldn’t stop the guy from swimming laps at the same time he did. They were both members of the club, and all the money in the world wasn’t going to help Michael put an Olympic swimming pool in a Manhattan apartment. That would have to be for later in life, when he retired out in the Hamptons or Connecticut.
Michael trailed into the locker room and quickly took a shower. The hot water felt fantastic on his muscles. There was definitely a part of him that could have stood beneath the spray for a long period of time, but he had to be on his way. Sawyer Locke and the Grand Legacy apartments were waiting. Towel wrapped around his waist, Michael made his way into the dressing area, where his suit was waiting, freshly pressed by the club staff. His black leather Italian wingtips had been given a polish as well.
“I beat my own time today, Kelly. I’m making big progress.” Gabe’s voice grated on Michael like little else.
“Yeah? Good for you.” Like I care. He went ahead with getting dressed, hoping Gabe would take a hint, hit the showers and leave him the hell alone.
“Just like I’m closing in on you in sales. With everything I have lined up for January and February, I’m very close to replacing you as the top agent in the city next year. I have to say, it’ll be a sweet reward and very well-earned.”
Michael didn’t want to take the bait. He wasn’t going to take it, but damn, it was hard. Michael fed on competition, but he couldn’t let someone see that he cared about their achievements. Focusing on his own was the best way to maintain the steely demeanor necessary for winning. “I’ll keep doing what I do, but thanks for the heads-up.”
Completely uninvited, Gabe perched on the locker-room bench. “What do you have in the hopper these days? Anything new and exciting? Some big fish on the line?”
“Always. But I’m not about to share that information with you.”
“I heard you landed the Grand Legacy residential units.”
Dammit. Michael worked his feet into his shoes. He wasn’t about to spill the details. It was all sewn up, but there was no point in bragging. He’d let news of the sales filter through the circles of the real-estate world on their own.
“No comment?” Gabe asked. “I get it. Trying to be the mysterious Michael Kelly. Well, I’m psyched for you, but just so you know, I’ve worked on several properties with Sawyer’s brother, Noah. I even snagged an invitation to Sawyer’s wedding. Pretty sure those guys are eager to work with me.”
Michael cast his eyes at Gabe, but only for a moment. The less he acknowledged him, the better. “I know the game you’re playing because I invented it. Don’t try to go up against me. You’ll only regret it.”
“Is that some sort of threat?”
“I don’t need to make threats, Gabe. Threats are for people who can’t deliver. I always deliver.” With that, Michael grabbed his suit coat. “Have a good day.”
Michael strode to the elevator and took it down to the parking garage, where his car was waiting. He was one of those guys—the ones who insisted on having a car in the city, even when it was generally a pain in the butt. He didn’t like waiting around for other people, he didn’t like barking orders from the back seat. He knew the best way to get where he wanted to go, and driving himself was the only way to get there.
Traffic wasn’t too heavy, so he arrived at Sawyer Locke’s office in twenty minutes and nabbed a spot in the lot next to his building. He took the stairs and still arrived five minutes early.
“Please have a seat, Mr. Kelly. Mr. Locke is finishing up a conversation with his sister. Can I get you a cup of coffee while you wait?”
His sister? Charlotte’s back in town? Michael shifted in his seat, finding it more than a bit uncomfortable. “Uh, No, thank you. I’ve had two cups already this morning.”
“It shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”
Michael had learned long ago that there’s a bump in every road, especially when you’re sure everything is going to go smoothly. Apparently, today’s bump was going to be Charlotte. He’d probably jinxed himself by daring to think the Grand Legacy was a done deal. Now he had to hope that Sawyer didn’t mention who his ten o’clock was with, opening the door for Charlotte to rail on Michael, call him a jerk or insensitive or any of the things she’d called him the day she’d ended it with him.
The thing was, Michael had had no choice but to open the door for Charlotte