CEO'd By Him Complete Series Box Set Page 4

  She hadn’t seen me, she was about to head down the path to the realty company, so I quickened my pace. Looking over, she saw me and her smile became shy. This close, I could see her eyes were big and hazel, filled with flecks of gold, green, and blue.

  Looking down at her, my breath caught, while my heart seemed to stutter in my chest. For a second, I couldn’t remember anything – what I was doing there, who I was, what had happened…

  Then she titled her head and asked, “Is there something I can help you with, sir?” She had that soft, gentle, Alabama way of speaking, making you sit up and pay mind to every word.

  I wanted to pay mind. I wanted to hear everything she had to say.

  But more than that, I wanted to know her name.

  Chapter 6

  Cammie

  Standing outside the office, balancing a tray of coffee, I’d been slightly flustered by that tall man staring at me. However, since he’d also looked like he was suffering from heat stroke, I bid him to come inside and sit down. Then I asked Babs in an undertone if she’d get him a drink of water.

  She eyed him around my side, then nodded. “Oh, he’s Grade-A flank, honey; where’d you find him? And are they havin’ any more sales?”

  Biting back a laugh, I shook my head. “He’s a client. I think he’s a little out of it.” I didn’t want Babs to cotton on to the fact that my heart was pulsing strangely, my hands were a little unsteady. “I’m sorry, I’d get it, but,” I gestured with my chin to the tray.

  Babs’s face became all sympathy. “I can’t believe Roger is makin’ you do all that. You just say the word.” She jerked a thumb at Mr. Westfall’s office, but I shook my head. “Oh fine, you sweetheart. And sure thing, honey, I’ll get your young man some water.”

  Hastening down the hall, I elbowed my way into Roger O’Neill’s office, and held up the tray. He was a senior realtor I’d been shadowing for the last two weeks. Usually, that meant sitting in the corner quietly while he worked or had meetings, but sometimes that entailed getting him and his cohorts at B.R. drinks.

  I wasn’t sure if this was part of the new employee process – Roger had been there when I was an intern and I’d gotten him coffee then – or if he was just milking this for what it was worth.

  Roger took the tray, smiling his thanks, and went to walk out of the office with it, when I spoke up, “Oh, Roger, there’s a new client who just walked in. Do you want me to bring him to your office or…”

  Glancing down at the tray, Roger shook his head, “Oh, no, someone else is gonna have to take him. But how ‘bout you go keep the ol’ boy company for a moment, will you, sweetheart? Thanks.”

  And with that, he vanished before I could reply. Gritting my teeth, I tried to take it in stride, as I had most of Roger’s inane requests. But this one was utter bullshit. Go keep a client company? That was the work of an assistant, not a legitimate broker.

  It was like Roger was trying to make me look like a fool in front of the clients.

  When I got back to the lobby, Babs was nowhere in sight – probably having finally taken her lunch – and the guy was standing now, sipping his water, and looking around him in interest. He didn’t strike me as the kind of person who could sit still for very long.

  I opened my mouth, then paused. I was about to ask him if he needed anything, but he already had water, it was probably too late in the day for coffee…

  While I stood there, gaping like a fool, he saw me and his face lit up. “There you are,” he said, a smile tugging up into his cheek. “I thought you’d forgotten all about me.” Then he shrugged, adding, “It would be a first, I admit, but they say new experiences are broadening.”

  Clapping a hand to my mouth to prevent myself from bursting into laughter, I hastily lowered it and said, “Sorry about that, I had to drop off… never mind. Um, is there anything else you need?”

  He came over to me and looked down, his face becoming serious, but gaze dancing. Taking me in, he shook his head very slowly. “No, I think I have everything I need right here.”

  His eyes were a bright blue, standing out in his tanned face, and his short brown hair was windswept, as though he’d either dragged his hands through it or driven with the windows down. It had a soft, curling texture to it. I suddenly found myself wondering what it would be like to pull my fingers through it when I stopped myself and blushed. Client, Cammie!

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you,” I said after a moment, a little intimidated by his silver tongue and tall, broad frame. It was like he took up the whole room as he towered almost a foot over me. With more bravado than I felt, I held out my hand, “We aim to please at Birmingham Realty, sir, so just know that you’ve made the right choice for your next home purchase.”

  His hand closed over mine, warm, callused, and big. I almost squeaked as he squeezed it. “Thanks.” His white teeth flashed. “I’m Kris Boldin. And you are?”

  Belatedly I realized I hadn’t even introduced myself and hastened to say, “Oh, I’m Cammie Book, I’m…” I trailed off. I’d almost said I was only an intern. What was wrong with me? I was a broker, dammit. And I needed to remember that – no matter how well this man might fill out his black shirt or how hard a chest he had.

  “Cammie Book,” Kris said my name lightly, as though tasting it. I almost shivered. His voice had a deep kind of warmth to it, with a note of something stern behind it. Looking into his face, I suddenly sensed that for all his joy, there was some a heavy grief weighing on this man. His cheeks were hollow, there were shadows under his eyes, and his jaw was a bit too scruffy. While it didn’t take anything away from his handsome face, and he was pretty good at hiding it, I was a Book woman – I could tell he was under some serious strain.

  And in spite of wanting to keep it professional, I felt my heart soften. I’ll just ask him a couple of questions about what he’s looking for, get him ready for the realtor.

  “What brought you in today?” I asked, linking my hands in front of me, and gazing up at him.

  His eyes crinkled up, as though remembering a joke and then he shook his head. “Ah, I’m in the market for a house in the area. Not too big, not too small. Think Goldilocks and the three bears.” Kris’s face became rueful. “I’m afraid I can be a bit demanding in what I need. But not impossible. At least I hope not. I’d hate to be of any trouble.”

  Again his eyes twinkled at me, and I almost felt at a loss for what to say. Usually, men did not intimidate me like this, but there was an energy to Kris, a quickness to his words and the way he spoke that left me feeling way out of my league. I wondered if he came from money, but in spite of his clothes, he didn’t strike me as a typical bored, entitled rich guy.

  Before I could get swept up by him again, I replied, “That won’t be a problem, Mr. Boldin.”

  “Kris,” he said. “And I don’t think it will, as long as I have you to help me, Ms. Book.”

  “Oh, Kris, no, I’m sorry if I misled you, but I’m a junior realtor here.” I lowered my voice. “In fact, I just started, so one of the senior realtors will help you.”

  To my surprise, Kris just grinned. “Just starting out, huh? Makes you even more perfect.”

  Fingers now twisting into my hair, I said, a little breathless, “Kris, I’m sorry. I can’t, that’s not the way things are done here.”

  “Utter nonsense,” Kris said, his voice becoming cool. I had a feeling he wanted to use a different word.

  At that moment, Carter Lloyd appeared around the corner. He was somewhere in his forties, with a slight paunch, a pinched looked about his face and a balding crown. His eyebrows shot up in surprise when he saw Kris, and he all but ignored me.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Carter Lloyd. What can I help you with today?”

  Kris glanced at Carter and then back at me. I could feel the heat of his gaze, but I was determinedly smiling at Carter. “I’m here to buy a home.” His tone was lightly sarcastic, but I doubted Carter would pick up on it. I had to bite my lip to keep f
rom laughing.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful to hear, sir. Exciting time to be buyin’ in Birmingham,” Carter said.

  “Yes.” Kris’s gaze slid away to Carter. “I want to buy a home. But I have some conditions. First of which, Cammie must be the one to sell it to me.”

  “Pardon?” Carter’s voice swung up several decibels. Clearing his throat, he said in a lower voice, “Sorry, sir, but Cammie here, she’s just startin’ out, and we usually don’t let our new pups out in the field so fast, you see…”

  I couldn’t look away from Kris for another second. His blues were filled with amusement as he took in Carter’s measure, then flashed at me. “She seems more than capable. After all, she was the first one to greet me, made sure I was taken care of and was delightfully easy to talk to. Good sense of humor.” There was a wickedness behind Kris’s words, and I knew he’d picked up on how hard I was trying not to laugh.

  Carter glanced at me in some surprise, and I hunched my shoulders as I smiled. Carter then said, in as delicate a tone as possible, “Sir, I understand why you’d like Cammie. She’s one of our most promising young prospects.” The compliment sounded wrenched out of him, like a fishhook pulled from a too-striped bass’s mouth in the Coosa River. “But it is not company policy to let one of our newest employees just be thrust into the field like that.” His voice became pedantic. “It would be unfair to her.”

  Standing there, I found myself balling my hands into fists. It was unbelievable how Carter was talking over me and for me – like I wasn’t even there.

  But as a woman, it wasn’t a place I hadn’t been before. And as I’d learned, all I could do was stand there and take it.

  “Hmph, seems you’re surer of Cammie’s novice ability than you are of your own.” There was an edge to Kris’s voice. “That doesn’t inspire confidence.” Carter gaped at him, and Kris’s eyes gleamed. “Either I get the newbie, or I walk. Take my lucrative business elsewhere.”

  “Ahem, um, well then,” Carter blustered, glancing between me and Kris. I didn’t know whether to laugh or be mortified. Kris had just all but called out a senior realtor on his ability and sort of emasculated him as well. I guess he didn’t appreciate Carter talking for me either. “Let me just – if you could just wait here, Cammie and I will be right back. Cammie, come with me, please.”

  Glancing over my shoulder as I followed Carter to the back, I saw Kris looking after us with a faint smile and a line between his eyes. My heart leaped for a second, but before I could focus on it, Carter had led me into a conference room and closed the door.

  “Girl, you playin’ some kinda game?” Carter demanded instantly.

  “I-what?” I stared at him in bewilderment. “No, Carter. I have no idea what inspired him.”

  Carter snorted. “Oh, I do.” His face twisted “You ever meet him before? You know who he is?”

  “Kris Boldin? No, we just met. And his name sounds vaguely familiar, but I don’t know him.” I was trying to be serene and said, “Carter, I’m sorry, do you want me to talk to him and see if he’ll agree to use you?”

  “Fat lotta good that will do,” Carter muttered, rubbing his head. “Boldin men are more stubborn than donkeys. His father was Lukas Boldin, the big documentary guy.”

  “Oh!” I said, nodding. That’s right. I could vaguely picture a bright-eyed man leaning his head against an elephant, as the animal hugged him with its trunk. “The company is out of Birmingham.”

  “Yes!” Still rubbing his head, Carter now paced around. “Kid is worth millions, Book. Maybe more. Who knows how much that kooky artist had stashed away?” I felt a flash of annoyance but kept my face neutral as Carter turned back to me. “You have to sell to him. You absolutely must make this sale. With Kris Boldin’s connections – Birmingham Realty would be on another level.”

  “Okay,” I swallowed, realizing what Carter was saying. Suddenly his insistence that Kris work with a senior realtor didn’t seem all that crazy or rude. But then I squared my shoulders. “I can do it. I’ll find him his house.”

  “I damn well hope so,” Carter said, rather snidely. “Now get back out there and smile pretty.”

  Hurrying back to the lobby for the second time, I almost bumped into Kris as I came around the corner. He grinned as steadied me, big hands warm on my shoulders.

  “So, is Mr. Lloyd going to break those absurd rules?” Kris asked, letting go of me.

  “Yes,” I said, then I gave him long look. “You know, they’re not that absurd. I am a pretty green broker, and you’d be my first client. I understand if you’re just being nice because I got you the water, but please remember this is a home you are buying.”

  “I know that.” Kris’s posture seemed more relaxed now that I’d said yes. “That’s exactly why I want you, Cammie.” His eyes searched my face. “You’re going to find it.”

  Shaking my head, I smiled. That sounded like an echo of what I’d said to myself earlier. “Thank you for that. It was getting tiring sitting in the corner.” Then I blinked. I hadn’t meant to say that much.

  He grinned and said, “’Nobody puts Baby in the corner.’” Then his phone went off, and he glanced down at it. A look of dismay crossed his face. “Um, Cammie, I’m sorry to cut this short – you can’t even imagine the depths of my desolation – but I have to run.” He looked back up at me. “Got a card? I’ll give you a call next week on Wednesday.”

  Pulling out the handwritten card I’d stopped to write, I winced a little at the informality of it. I didn’t have any business cards yet, and that fact seemed to scream out inadequacy.

  But Kris just stashed it away in his wallet and smiled at me. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with. I’ll contact you next week about details, dates, times, okay?”

  “Okay. See you soon, Kris,” I said and offered him my hand.

  Again my hand was wrapped in his. He squeezed it and his eyes seemed even bluer than before. “Very soon.”

  And then he was walking away. My breathing was a little unsteady and my hand still warm from the pressure of his hand. Watching him leave, I couldn’t help but notice the flex and swell of his muscles through his pants. Damn, is he sexy. I couldn’t help but think, biting my lip.

  Chapter 7

  Kris

  Walking into Striker Man’s, an old-school, beat-up bowling alley in the Collegeville neighborhood of Birmingham, I was greeted with the familiar smell of nacho cheese, wood polish, and popcorn. Arcade games lit up, whirled, howled and beeped as I walked by them, heading for the front desk.

  As usual, the place was deserted. In a way, I found that comforting. After all the changes that had happened over the past few months, it was nice to have one constant.

  No one ever bowled at Striker Man’s. No one even seemed to know about it.

  “Boldin!” crowed a loud voice. “Here to knock down some pins?”

  Vince Curley, stocky, with wavy black hair, thick glasses, and built shoulders, was grinning at me as I walked over. He was the owner of the alley and one of my best friends.

  “Hey, Vince,” I gave him a one-armed hug. “How you doin’ man?”

  “The sun is shining, I’m in my favorite spot, not six feet under, and I got business.” Then he flinched, cheeks going red. “Woah, man, I’m sorry, too soon.”

  “You learned that phrase from my dad, so don’t apologize,” I said with a laugh, while subtly glancing over my shoulder. Business? Down at the end, I saw two people bowling. How ‘bout that?

  Two people, yeah I guess that was pretty busy for Vince. Dad always loved Vince’s “unquenchable entrepreneurial spirit.” Although it was always a mystery how this place stayed open, passed any kind of safety and health inspection, or made any kind of profit.

  “Well, you know me, I always got time for a Boldin brother. Tell me all about the documentary biz. Any big news?”

  “Bold Pictures isn’t quite what I’d thought it’d be,” I commented dryly, as Vince guided me over to the side of the room wher
e there was a sagging couch flanked by a TV and a mini fridge.

  “No?” Vince’s lips quirked.

  “Yeah, no, it’s not all artists laboring together on a precious piece of filmography that will lend itself to the world’s library of great works – it’s basically like herding cats on a boat that’s on fire – and I’m constantly having to tell myself, ‘This is fine.’”

  Barking out a laugh, Vince leaned forward, opened the mini fridge and pulled out two beers. They were locally crafted ones, ripened with peach and lemonade for a summery flavor.

  “Thank you,” I said as he handed me one. “Honestly, Vince, I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, and I thought I could, you know, fake it till I make it, but there’s been more faking and less making, if you catch my drift.”

  He clinked my bottle. “I hear you, Kris. When I first opened this place, I didn’t know a pin from a pinball. It just takes time. You’ll get there.”

  Almost choking on my beer, I nodded and said solemnly, “Of course.”

  “Sorry you’re going through so much shit all at once, Kris,” Vince said, unusually serious for once. “It’s fucked up. But I’m always here, with the beer, whenever you need to get your head clear.”

  At that I did laugh, spraying beer on the floor and coughing. Vince and his damn poetry. He’d had a period where he was convinced writing was his calling. So he’d spent hours writing verse on the most inane topics – everything from ducks to bowling shoes. Dad had one of them framed and I was pretty sure it was still in his home office. I’d have to look when I got home.

  “Thank you, Vince. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it,” I said when I could finally pull air into my lungs again. “It is crazy. I never thought I’d be closing up my dad’s house, looking for a new one, moving and trying to be a CEO all at once.”