didn’t get to be a top Realtor—okay, an up-and-coming Realtor—without a lot of tact, so she didn’t take off her shoe and throw it at his head, as much as she was tempted. “Okay, let’s try the other question. Who are you?” she asked, in a calm, clear voice.
“Robert Klassen. And you are?”
“My name is Hailey Fleming. I’m a Realtor and this house is for sale.”
He put up two hands with nails that could use a scrub and rubbed his eyes. “Is that why the place looks like a furniture store? I barely recognized it. My grandmother sure never had such modern taste. The only thing I recognize is this bed.” He glanced at the MacDonalds. “She died in it.”
Sam made a startled sound, and took a step back, glancing around as though a ghost might be hovering in the room.
Hailey’s sale fell through in that moment. She knew it as well as she knew that if she had her way that bed would see another casualty very soon.
“She didn’t die here in the house,” Hailey said through gritted teeth. “She passed away peacefully in hospital.” She doubted the MacDonalds would believe her. For some reason they believed this guy. Was he really Mrs. Neeson’s grandson? If he was, she had to tread carefully.
The house bore no signs of a break-in and the scruffy backpack leaning against the wall shouted Drifter. However, a pretty fancy camera bag leaned beside it. Hadn’t she heard the grandson was some kind of photographer?
Her unwanted visitor didn’t leap off the bed and race for the door, rather he simply grabbed hold of the two green silk accent pillows behind him and propped himself up. Even wearing mismatched socks, he was imposing, undeniably gorgeous in that annoying unkempt way that only certain men can pull off.
She had absolutely no idea how to proceed. Not that she had years of experience under her belt, but she doubted a scenario like this happened very often to any agent, no matter how experienced. And she really, really needed to keep this listing. It was her biggest break yet in an industry that was tough to crack. The estate lawyer was an old family friend giving her a chance. For some shaggy backpacker to come in here and take it away from her was too much.
However, until she got this mess sorted out there wasn’t much she could do, so she pulled herself together and turned to the MacDonalds. “I am so sorry. There is obviously some kind of a mix-up that I will have to sort out before we go any further.”
“We understand,” said Luke. He stepped back out into the hall. “It’s too bad though. It’s a great house. Perfect for our needs.”
“I know.” At least she had the satisfaction of knowing she’d been correct about the match. Thanks to tall, dark and shaggy, it wouldn’t fatten her bank account, but at least she knew she was on the right track. “I promise to get things figured out, and when I do, you’ll be the first people I call. In the meantime I’ll put together some more houses that will work for you.”
As they went down the stairs, Sam glanced back over her shoulder. “Did the previous owner really die in this house?”
“Of course not. If she had I’d tell you. Agnes Neeson died in hospital. She was almost ninety and lived here happily until a few days before she passed on. It was a stroke. She died peacefully without ever regaining consciousness. We should all be so lucky.”
She kept her bright smile intact until she’d seen the MacDonalds out and then she dropped the happy act and turned back to confront the complete stranger who was doing his best to upset all her careful plans.
Hailey had no intention of letting that happen and tall, dark and disheveled was about to find that out.
3
ROB YAWNED AND STRETCHED, wanting to close his eyes and finish that long sleep he so desperately needed. He heard the front door slam and groaned; clearly he wasn’t alone in the house.
With ominous certainty he knew the woman who had so rudely woken him was on her way back to the bedroom. And he didn’t think she was going anywhere anytime soon.
He listened as she marched up the stairs, striking the creaky section in the middle of the sixth step. There was another creaky spot on step eleven and she struck that one, too.
This house had no secrets from him.
When she appeared in the doorway of the bedroom he was ready for her. Not at so much of a disadvantage.
Of course, his grandmother would have been horrified to see him lounging on the bed, leaning against stacked pillows he didn’t recognize any more than anything else in this room.
He felt almost as though he were in a dream where things were familiar but weren’t. The woman currently surveying him was real though. No question there.
She was also hot, he realized, surveying her. She looked pissed off yet confused and unsure of herself all at once. An interesting combination.
He liked the neat way she’d put herself together. She had long blond hair and eyes that couldn’t make up their mind between gray and blue and so made you keep noticing them, to wonder.
She wore a black skirt and white blouse with chunky black jewelry. She had nice legs. She might have a nice smile; however, at the moment her lips were so tight together they could be sewed shut.
Then she opened them. Not to smile unfortunately. To speak.
“We have to talk.”
He let his head fall back, and if it weren’t for all the fancy pillows on the bed he’d have hit the walnut headboard. “Four most frightening words in the English language.”
He almost got a glimpse of her smile, but to his consternation she managed to suppress it. “I think there’s been some kind of mistake.”
“Yeah. I think so, too.” He glanced around the room once more. “Did you move in here or something?”
“Of course not. I told you, I’m a Realtor. I’ve listed this house for sale.”
“Well, unless my grandmother spent the last months of her life redecorating her house in condo-modern, somebody else’s stuff is in here.”
She looked at him as though he was missing half his marbles. He was tired, but he couldn’t be that tired.
“I had this home professionally staged.”
When it was clear he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, she continued.
“We clear out the clutter and bring in pieces and accessories to showcase the home in the best way possible. I think the improvement is amazing.”
“It doesn’t look like my grandmother’s house anymore.” Except for the big bed which he’d instinctively been drawn to last night. It had reminded him of home, tradition, his grandmother.
As he stared up at her, suddenly the four-poster filled him with other thoughts. Adult thoughts. Her slim hands wrapped around the bedposts while she writhed in passion. He blinked, glancing away before she could catch the lust in his eyes.
“It’s
