thought might be in his price range and fit his tastes. She arrived at the water ferry a few minutes early, stood on the dock and answered a couple emails on her phone.
Butterflies stirred in her stomach as she waited for him to arrive. She pulled a small compact from her purse and checked her hair and makeup, again. She’d spent too much time preparing for this encounter. Way too much time. And she didn’t like what she was feeling. She was nervous, and for no good reason. As strong and as independent as she was, her knees still felt somewhat weak when she was in the presence of Samson Steel.
Well, that was yesterday. Today would be better. She’d exhibit more strength. He wouldn’t make her feel vulnerable again. She wasn’t his type anyway. She saw the way he gawked at that young girl in the band—the drummer with the small waistline, skinny legs, exposed flat stomach. He looked all goo-goo eyed. If he liked slight girls, then Bijou was more his type, not her.
She sent a text message to the owner of one of her listings, Jennifer Madison: I have a strong buyer for Madison House. All cash. Full price offer. Quick closing.
Jennifer replied after a few moments: Great. Send over the contract and I’ll take a look at it.
I’m also showing it this afternoon.
The Madisons weren’t any ordinary family. Jennifer Madison’s father had built a successful real estate development company. They were a prominent family that owned homes on Miami’s Palm and Fisher Islands, as well as properties along the coast in the Bahamas. But of all the houses that they owned, the Madison home was Alyson’s baby. It was her first listing that even came close to a million dollars. Her firm had listed plenty of homes on the islands, but she’d personally nurtured this one. It was by far her most expensive listing yet, and was sure to net her a substantial commission—one that would change the financial face of Alyson Talbot and Associates. A sale of that magnitude would earn her the business of every one of Jennifer Madison’s rich friends and associates. She desperately needed it.
The pant legs of her linen Armani suit blew in the wind. Her recently pedicured toes peeked through her shoes, and she’d worn a professional-looking blouse but made sure she showed just a little cleavage—just to tease Samson a bit, show him what he couldn’t have.
He stepped out of a taxi wearing denim shorts, brown leather sandals, a snug gray T-shirt and a gray plaid newsboy cap on his head. He was clearly dressed down, but he even made dress-down look sexy. His perfectly manicured beard caused him to have a strong resemblance to Omari Hardwick. Alyson found it difficult to peel her eyes from his muscular, tattooed arms. She thought it ridiculous for any human being to defile their body in such a way, but there was something tantalizing about Samson’s body art. She looked away. Didn’t want him to catch her staring. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing that she thought he was one of the sexiest men she’d met.
He paid the driver and then headed her way.
“You made it on time,” she said.
“Better than that. I’m five minutes early,” he boasted.
She looked at her watch, and then up at him. His arms were folded across his chest, and a smirk danced in the corner of his mouth.
“That you are.” She avoided eye contact.
“Good seeing you again, Alyson. I appreciate you fitting me into your busy schedule.”
She ignored his greeting and instead ran down their plans for the day. “We’re going to take the water taxi over to Governor’s Harbour. There are a few houses I can show you over there. They aren’t as elaborate, but I’m sure they would fit into your price range.”
“You don’t even know what my price range is. You haven’t asked.”
“You’re a musician. And not a professional one. I admit I’m being a bit presumptive, but—”
“I’d say you’re being extremely presumptive,” he said. “Is this how you handle all of your clients, or just the ones you devalue?”
“Are you telling me that you can afford a property that costs more than two hundred thousand dollars?”
“I’m telling you that you never gave me the courtesy of asking what my price range was. You assumed that I couldn’t afford the properties in your portfolio,” he mocked her. “Isn’t there a process to this? Shouldn’t there be standard questions that you ask a potential client?”
“I do have a few questions, Mr. Steel. Like, what are you doing in the Bahamas for an extended period of time? What are you running from? Do you have a woman or a baby mama in the States who’s chasing you for child support?”
“Those are really inappropriate questions,” he said.
“I apologize. I think we got off on the wrong foot.” She handed him a sheet of paper from her briefcase. “Here’s a list of properties that I thought you might be interested in. If this is not your price range, we can adjust.”
He took the list and gave it a quick review. Handed it back to her. “Actually, I brought my own list.”
He reached into the back pocket of his shorts, pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to her. She opened it. Gave it a quick scan.
“These properties are close to a million dollars!”
“Your point?”
She ignored his question. “And besides, the Madison property already has a buyer.”
“That’s the one that I’m most interested in. I saw it on your website this morning. It was the only one that had a video. You should do that with all of your properties, by the way...add a video. Excellent selling point. And your website didn’t indicate that that property was sold, by the way.”
“I just spoke with the owner this morning, and she’s waiting for me to send over the contract right now.” Why was she explaining this to him? “I already have a solid offer on it.”
“But you haven’t accepted that offer yet, right?”
“Well...”
“I would like to see the place.”
“Why would I show you a property that’s not for sale? And if I thought for one second that you could afford it, I couldn’t show it to you today anyway. It’s on Abaco—over a hundred miles from here. It would take us too long to get there by boat.”
“I don’t have anything but time.”
“It would be a complete waste of time.”
“It’s not the only property on Abaco that I’m interested in. There are others in the same general vicinity.”
“We don’t have transportation.”
“Actually, we do. Jasmine told me that your cousin Stephen owns a boat, and he often transports you between the islands. She even gave him a buzz, and asked if he was available today. He was more than happy to oblige. So what’s your excuse now?”
He was right. Their cousin Stephen was very accommodating whenever she needed use of his boat. Often if his schedule permitted, he’d drive Alyson between islands to
