What She's Looking For (3 page)

Jesus, she was something.

“Interesting”, he’d thought when
he’d first met her. It was a serious understatement.

She was wearing her “realtor’s
uniform”. He’d seen it on others, but few could pull it off the way she could.
Her dark hair pulled up tastefully, the streaked highlights (her only style
points
not
typical of a realtor) were burnished golden by the fading
sun. Then there was the dark conservative suit coat with the matching
mid-length skirt just tight enough to emphasize the devastating curves of her
hips.

If it were up to him, that skirt
would most definitely stay, but that coat frustratingly prevented an accurate
assessment of her tits. Hers were big enough that the coat couldn’t completely
hide them, but conservative it was nonetheless.

Should be against the law. Would
be against the law — if she were mine.

“So, here’s the stove.” He slapped
a hand down on the cold, black cast iron. It was a squat, utilitarian stove,
nothing ornate about it. But it did the job.

She flashed him a smirk, as if to
say “thanks genius”.

“Now, come on over here and get a
closer look. You’ll want to learn this, because if I have to trudge over here
on a frigid night to get this going for you, it’s gonna cost you.”

There was that becoming flush again
as she nodded, stepping closer to the stove.

“You see that knob in the back? That’s
the damper — forces the smoke through the catalytic converter.”

“The … what? Stoves aren’t supposed
to have words like that. Fire, wood. Burn. You know — simple.” Her eyebrows
cocked ever so slightly as she said it, and it made him want to kiss them.

Whoa tiger. Calm down.

So she was hot, and apparently
single — and didn’t know a soul in town. It didn’t mean she would be ready to
hop in the sack with him. Still, he couldn’t help himself.

“The catalytic converter just helps
to clean the smoke. Think of it like a filter.”

She shrugged, her arms clasped
across her chest. Obviously not in her element here.

“Okay, now reach back and turn the
knob. You’ll have to do this when the stove is hot sometimes too, so you’ll
need to watch it.”

He was doing just that as she
gamely followed his instructions. He rather liked the fact that she didn’t
protest or whine. She just did as she was told.

Parker also very much appreciated
the way that skirt perfectly outlined the heart shaped ass as she bent over.
Her ass looked bigger than it did when he’d first seen her. Perhaps the dark
skirt fooled the eyes?

Regardless, he loved it. He could
not fight picturing her bent over his bed in much the same way, as he flipped
her skirt up and slowly drew down silky panties, eager to feast on the vision
of that juicy, round ass. His cock stirred in his jeans, and he realized she’d
straightened, looking back at him.

She cleared her throat.

Well done, Parker. Caught
drooling over her ass like a fifteen year old.

“Is that all there is to it?” Her
smile was mischievous.

Clever girl.

“Oh — well, you need to use that
damper to keep the stove from getting too hot. If it does, you’ll have a flue
fire and probably burn the whole place down.”

“Shit, maybe I can just use a
heater then?”

He shook his head. “This is it,
Ashley.”

“Guess I better hope it stays warm
this fall,” she muttered, stepping past him into the dining area that opened
off of the living room. It was a great room, really, no walls separating the
areas.

He walked her through the rest of
the house, making sure to check the lock on the basement door as he passed it
in the hall. No sense in dropping her in the deep end right off the bat.

“Where’s that go to?” She stopped
by the door.

“Oh, that’s where all our crap is
stored.” He turned to look back at her. “Basement. We didn’t have time to move
it out of here completely. Didn’t think that ad would be answered so quickly.” He
grinned at her. “Thank you, by the way.”

She nodded, smiling back.

As she walked past him, Parker
watched her gaze linger for just a moment on that hallway door, before walking
into the bedroom.

“Oh, it’s
beautiful
,” she
breathed.

“We were going to move this out
too, but Erik thought … well, he thought you might like it — if you don’t have
a bed already.”

The bedroom was dominated by an
old-fashioned four poster bed, complete with canopy. There were even lavender
curtains, tied back with sashes to either post at the headboard. The deep
cherry wood was dusty, but Parker thought the bed was in remarkably good shape
considering how old it was.

“Oh, I’ve got one.” Ashley ran a
hand up the contours of one of the carved posts. “But it’s nothing like this.
Let me think about it, okay?”

Parker nodded. “Sleep on it
tonight. If it’s not everything you’d hoped, Drake and I will drag it out of
here tomorrow.”

Ashley cocked her head, shooting
him a doubtful look.

“Yeah, Erik might have to help too,”
Parker said, chuckling.

Cheeky thing. She was looking more
irresistible by the minute.

Ashley looked over at the door
opposite the bed. “How about that one? Is that a bathroom?”

He shook his head. “More … stuff.
My stuff, actually.”

“Did you used to stay in this room?”
She ran fingers along the diaphanous lavender fabric draping the bed. “Doesn’t
really strike me as a man’s room.”

“Well, it wasn’t just me.”

He saw her bright cheer dim ever so
slightly, before the realtor veneer kicked in once more. “Oh, I see. Didn’t
mean to pry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Didn’t work
out, simple as that.”

She nodded, looking at the bed
again, leaning a hand against one of the posts as if to test its strength.

He didn’t know what he was doing
straying into a topic like this, but he found he didn’t have to be evasive. She
was a woman, she’d obviously understand. Sometimes people just don’t … mesh. He
knew he was being an idiot.

“Look, you probably have things you
still need to get moved. I left the keys in the kitchen. I’ll just let myself
out.”

“Wait, Mr. McCready — Parker.”

He stopped in the doorway to the
hall. He liked the way she’d said it. Respectful. He’d like to teach her more
respect. He had a feeling he’d like that very much indeed.

“I haven’t even said I’ll take it.”
She folded her arms over her chest again.

Another thing outlawed if you
were mine, my dear.

“Is there really a question? It’s
perfect for you.” He leaned against the doorjamb, his arms crossed over his
crisp button down shirt.

“Well, how about the rent? What are
you asking?”

“What can you afford?”

The giddy little boy in him would
have let her rent it for a dollar if she’d asked. He wanted her around, that
was for sure.

She looked down a moment, then
clasped her hands together in front of her thighs.

So many self-protective
gestures. Out of her element here.

He found he didn’t mind that at
all. Keeping a woman — his woman, especially — off balance, was a good thing.
It helped emphasize who was really running the show.

“I’m really not sure, yet. I have a
little left from the move. But, I … “ She looked at the bed again, a crease in
her pretty brow.

“We’ll work something out,” Parker
said. “We can always barter or something right?”

She laughed. “Sure, what can I sell
you in lieu of money? Do you need a maid?”

“When Erik stays here we do. The kid’s
kind of a slob.”

Very nice. A maid. A tight corset,
those boobs spilling out of a starched white bodice, the too-short skirts.
Watching her totter around on ridiculously high heels. Her downcast eyes as he
berated her for not cleaning to his standards.

Jesus, you need to get laid,
pal.

“Look, I really like it, it’s just—”

“How about we talk about it tomorrow?
I’m grilling some steaks for dinner. You aren’t a veggie or anything are you?”

Ashley snorted. “Does it look like
it?”

Despite the deadly curves of those
hips, she looked quite thin. Too thin, by a comfortable margin. He’d like to
see her filled out more, in all the right places. Preferably with no clothes
on.

“You look like you could use a
steak or two.” He regretted it as soon as the words left his lips. Too
familiar. She was already uneasy. Being too pushy was bound to scare her off.

But she didn’t seem to mind. Just
blushed again.

“You come on by. You don’t even
have to eat. Just a drink or something. We’ll work out the rent situation. I’ve
been in a jam before — I know what it’s like.”

“I guess I can do that.” She smiled
up at him.

“Seven sound good?”

“I’ll be there.”

Parker knew he’d be counting the
hours.

Chapter Four

I
t started because she wanted it to.
When a girl marries a boy she’s supposed to be able to let her guard down. Be
herself. Tell her husband what she wants, what her fantasies are. Share
herself.

“Open up bitch,” Terry said, his
hand twisting in her hair. She gasped with the burn in her scalp, and he took
the opportunity to plunge his cock between her lips. Driving, driving back to
her throat. He wasn’t particularly large, so taking all of him was doable, if
she could suppress her gag reflex.

She knew from hard experience that
making her gag and cough only turned him on more, so she’d learned to just deal
with it and get it done as swiftly as possible.

“Fuck. Watch the teeth!” He shook
her by the head, like someone shaking a puppy by the scruff of the neck. She
squealed around his cock. It felt as if he might rip her hair clean from her
scalp.

Quickly, Ashley.

She’d learned the hard way what he
liked, so she did it, her vision blurring with tears, eager to put an end to
it. Sometimes he’d be more gentle after coming. Sometimes.

After a few minutes of bobbing her
head, her lips almost numb, he pulled out. He held her by the hair even
tighter, and she craned her head back to try to alleviate the pain. She closed
her eyes knowing what was coming. Terry seemed to think all women liked
receiving the “money shot,” liked the slimy gouts of semen splashed across
their faces.

“Whore,” Terry grunted as the last
of his seed dribbled out, his cock already deflating. He stood there and looked
at her a moment, eyes gleeful. Not a hint of warmth or compassion. She knew he
enjoyed her degradation. Under the right circumstances, in her fantasies, she
thought
she
might enjoy it too. But not the way he was with her. It had
a hard edge to it that disturbed her, objectification over adoration.

Her phone buzzed, snapping her back
to the present.

Thank you, God.

She wiped the tear from her cheek,
and snatched up her phone. She didn’t even care who it was. Anything seemed
better compared to what she’d gone through with Terry.

She vaguely recognized the number
as if she’d seen it recently.

“Ashley Dietrich, how can I help
you?”

“Hi.”

“Parker?” She felt the butterflies
in her stomach. Christ, she barely knew the guy, but just hearing his voice
flustered her.

“Yes, glad I found you.”

“How did you find my number?”

“I looked at my phone. You called
me first, remember?”

“Oh, right,” she said, clapping a
hand over her eyes.

She got up and walked over to the
lone window, the room flooding with light as she pulled the curtains back. “Did
you find a buyer or something?”

“No. The place is yours to rent, if
you still want it.”

“Good. I don’t think I’d do too
well with more shitty news this morning.”

“Oh? What happened, if you don’t
mind me asking.”

“Uh nothing, really. Just lost a
sale to the competition.”

Not only had Mr. Doctor and Trophy
Wife not called her back, they’d actually complained to the regional office
about her. They’d said she was making inflated claims about the property. She
could only assume it was the Hollywood couple thing, which was completely
unfair. It was true! But in real estate perception was reality, and the
perception of her … hadn’t been good, apparently.

It was a great way to start a new
job.

“Are you still coming by tonight?”

Why didn’t he ask her what she did?
Wasn’t that one of the first things you were asked by a guy?

This isn’t a date, Ashley.

“I think so.” She squinted against
the sunshine pouring through the window. “Will be moving stuff over today
anyway.”

“You shouldn’t be doing that
yourself,” he said, voice even.

“Who else would move me in? My ten
thousand friends?”

“We could do it for you.”

“Uh, no Parker. I think I can
handle it. Everything I own fits into my car anyway.”

Leaning against the cheap desk, she
pulled on her nylons. She hated the damned things but it was either those or
thigh-highs. Clients already seemed to think she was desperate. Adding slutty
to the mix probably wouldn’t help matters.

“What about your bed? Furniture?”

Shit.

“Well, since you so gallantly
offered me the use of the bed that’s already there, I won’t need one.”

“Okay, what about furniture though?
As pleasant as it is to picture, I doubt you spend all of your time sitting on
the floor.”

What the hell did he mean by
that?

“I left it at my old place,” she
said, not
technically
lying. “I thought I‘d buy new stuff here. Saves
the hassle of moving it.”

He chuckled. “Made of money are
you? Or is it the girl who wasn’t sure what she could afford for rent?”

“I … well, it’s not as simple—”

“I have no doubt about that,
Ashley. See you tonight.”

She was about to try to explain,
put some window dressing on her dissembling. But he’d already hung up.

Who cares, Ashley. He’s just
some guy.

But a small part of her
did
care. Cared that he might think she was a liar.

* * *