Loose black ringlets under the cap, touching his sharp hard bare shoulders.
Mirrored aviators hid his eyes, but I felt them on me as I ascended the steps.
Every inch of him screamed rock star. He just drew the eye, absorbed attention. I’d have eyes only for him even if he wasn’t the only other person on the porch with me.
Titus Bright.
“Troubadour Enterprises, huh?” I said, leaning against the railing in front of him.
He just grinned. “It’s my corporate front. Easier to do business with that as my DBA than using my real name. People see my name on an email or something, and they see dollar signs. You see the business name and talk to my gal Alaina? I get proper business treatment.”
“Makes sense.” I gestured at the house, a five-million-dollar, five bedroom, five and a half bathroom, six thousand square foot property designed for entertaining. “And this is, what? All a ruse to get me alone?”
He stood up, unfolding in a single lithe movement to his full six feet, six-inch height. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m actually interested in seeing it. It’s a gorgeous home. Imported African Teak hardwood floors, Carrara marble counters throughout?”
So he’d actually looked at the listing. Interesting.
I’d play. Why not?
“Okay, well, let’s see it, then.” I punched the code into the lockbox on the front door, withdrew the key, unlocked the front door. He immediately took the storm door from me, reached around me, and twisted open the main door. “Thanks.”
Inside, the foyer was bathed in natural light from the rosette window over the front door, and you could see into the kitchen and through to the backyard view of the Pacific. He wandered past me, pulling his sunglasses off and setting them upside down on the brim of his backward cap.
“Nice,” he said. “Pretty sweet kitchen.”
I watched him as he trailed fingertips over the counter, toyed with the gas range grate, opened the sub-zero fridge, closed it again. “My question is whether you really need six thousand square feet and five bedrooms, though.”
“Does it matter what I need? If I like it, and I want it, and I can pay cash, who gives a fuck if it’s too much house for lil ol’ me?” He shoved open the door to the back deck, which was the true piece de resistance, being a massive outdoor living area with built-in seating, a full kitchen, an infinity pool with a glass bottom that cut into the actual interior of the walkout basement, so the pool water would reflect and refract the sunlight and cast rainbows on the whole basement. It was a cool effect, actually.
“No, I guess it doesn’t. But I have to let the sellers know when they have a showing, and these people are super motivated to sell, so if you’re just using this as a way to get to me, then I kind of resent the manipulation. I take my career seriously, Titus.”
He closed the door and went past me again, ignoring me as he moved for the stairs to the second floor. Of course, I followed him. Upstairs, he peeked into the four bedrooms before heading into the master suite, which occupied a full third of the upper floor. It was fully staged, with a king bed and sitting area.
Titus wandered through the bathroom, his and hers walk-in closet, checked out the view from the balcony, and then came back into the bedroom and sat heavily onto the bed.
“I am looking,” he said. “Just not for me.”
Leaning against the doorframe, I tilted my head. “Oh? Meaning?”
“Troubadour Enterprises employs twenty-four people. I have a whole recording arm, distribution, booking, merch, all that. Alaina is my PA, and she’s indispensable, but my real top dog is Jeremy Mullins. He just turned thirty, he’s got a beautiful young wife and four little kids already, and she’s about to pop with their fifth.”
My eyes widened. “Busy couple, huh?”
He nodded. “Yup. I pay them well, maybe a little too well, but they’ve been holding off on buying a house suited to fit their needs. Jeremy grew up dirt-ass poor and he’s a hell of a cheapskate, and his wife isn’t much better. I don’t think they’ll ever go look for houses they can actually afford, so I’m looking for them. Jeremy started as a guitar tech for Bright Bones, and when I do a set that needs an actual band, Jeremy is in it. But he’s a wizard with logistics, and he can talk anyone into anything. And he’s just a really cool guy.”
“So you’re looking at houses for Jeremy and his wife and their four, almost five, kids.”
“Yeah. Last couple years, he’s really gone over and above for me, working a shitload of hours, scrambling to get my last-minute flash concerts up, and I figure I should do something to say thanks.”
“A house is a pretty nice thanks.”
He grinned. “What can I say? I’m a nice guy.”
I gestured at the room. “So, is this it?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Their kids are young—the oldest is, like, seven, and their youngest is just barely two. I’m not sure an unfenced infinity pool is going to fly with Mrs. Mullins.”
“Obviously I don’t have kids, but my clients with younger kids usually don’t end up going for the places with pools like this. Too much risk, I guess.”
“Right, that’s what I’m thinking.”
“So, on to the next one?”
He nodded. “In a minute.”
“And in the meantime, what? Is there another feature in the house you’d like to see?”
“Sort of.” He stood up, his movements leisurely, languid. “Come here. It’s something I wanna show you.”
I pushed off the doorframe, following him into the walk-in closet. The “hers” closet featured a boutique-quality full-length mirror, the three-panel kind so you could see yourself from every conceivable angle.
He stood in front of the mirror, glanced at me as I entered the closet. Gestured for me to come closer, to where he was standing.
My heart thumped.
Play it cool, Laurel.
“It’s a mirror,” I said. “You see these kinds of mirrors mainly in the kinds of stores that sell wedding dresses. It’s so you can see—”
“I know what it’s for,” he murmured, cutting me off.
He was behind me, somehow. Towering over me. His hands slid down the curtain of my platinum blond hair, which hung loose over my shoulders. Not quite touching my hair, but close enough I could feel his touch, almost.
“Just wanted to see you in it.”
“Titus…”
He ducked behind me, and I watched in the reflection as he pressed his nose to the side of my neck. “You smell so fuckin’ good.”
“Custom perfume,” I whispered, “mainly jasmine and vanilla.”
He straightened. Gathered my hair in his hand, pulling it through his fingers so it lay behind my shoulders, down my back. I was wearing a white, tight-fitting, knee-length dress, knee-high tan leather boots, a matching belt under my breasts, and a jean jacket with the sleeves pushed up to my elbows. Turquoise bangles on my wrists and a matching necklace.
He just stared at the reflection of me. “So fuckin’ gorgeous, Laurel.”
“We should go if we’re going to see the next house.”
He wrapped his arms around my middle, his hands palming my stomach, his hips pressed against my backside. “We have plenty of time.”