She tried for blasé. “No problem, Phil.”
“Then I suggest you show that man his property.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather some other agent look after him.”
“Sure. If you don’t mind finding another job.” Phil strode toward his desk. “You, better than most, know the commission on that size sale.”
“Of course I know, but—”
“Here’s something you obviously don’t know.”
He held up today’s newspaper, folded back to that dreaded page five. She’d almost hyperventilated this morning when she’d flicked through and had seen the photos: a picture of Alex looking devilish handsome at some black-tie romp had been butted up against a studio headshot of a stunning looking Bridget Davidson. It made Natalie wonder what on earth Alex saw in nothing-out-of-the-box her.
Phil dropped the paper. “That man is Alexander Ramirez.”
“I can explain—”
“Your personal life and lovers’ spats are none of my concern. I do know the phones are running hotter than usual this morning, I’m guessing because the today’s headline girl works here. I also know Ramirez is a serious man with serious money.” The groove between his thick dark brows eased as he tossed the paper back on his desk, next to his toppling in tray. “You’re the best agent I have. We need every commission we can get. These aren’t the best of times. We can’t afford to pass up even the suggestion of a possible sale.”
She chewed her lip.
The market was in a ditch, the more expensive properties included. Last week, a long standing agency had closed its doors. She couldn’t tell Phil that Alex’s enquiry was a ruse to get her alone. Or perhaps Phil suspected as much but was prepared to go forward with the inspection on the off chance the query ended in a sale.
No matter how she rationalised, when push came to shove, Phil called the shots.
Beaten, she shrugged. “You’re the boss.”
Phil slipped in behind his desk. “And you’re a trooper.”
She exited Phil’s office, closed the door and lifted her chin. Alex’s onyx eyes burned into hers. Oh, yes, he was serious, all right.
She moved to join him, crossing her arms again, a bid to convey some pretence of distance, not that she thought he would sweep her up and whisk her away. At least she didn’t think he would.
She cleared her throat. “Just so you know, I have a busy day ahead of me.”
His grin was lopsided and inherently sexy.
She swallowed and knotted her arms more securely over her churning stomach. “This won’t do any good.”
“Are you going to show me this property or not?”
“I’m going to show you this property, then I’m going to get on with my day.” When his grin eased wider, she dropped her arms and threw back her shoulders. “I’m not kidding.”
He took her elbow. “Neither am I.”
Chapter Five
Alex insisted on taking his car. He thumbed the vendor’s street into the GPS and a short time later pulled the gleaming black sports car into the exclusive address.
Natalie depressed a remote button and, like curtains introducing a spectacular stage, the colossal iron gates fanned open. Tall pencil pines stood guard on either side of a long paved drive, and immaculate gardens greeted them with stunning spring bouquets. At the far end of an emerald lawn resided a magnificent rendered building.
The Quinton mansion.
Parking beneath the enormous front portico, its columns twined with lemon bougainvillea, Alex slid out from the driver’s side and swung open her door. Stepping out, she scanned the interior. The air smelled of sweet floral perfume and generations of money.
“The owners are visiting the U.S.,” she told him in a professional tone. “They’re eager to sell.”
She felt his gaze on her, moving over her hair, down her limbs, leaving a glorious blistering heat in its wake.
Brushing down her dress, she willed the telltale fire from her cheeks. They hadn’t spoken during the drive here but she’d felt the force of Alex’s concentration as he’d negotiated the Sydney streets. He’d been formulating a foolproof plan to get what he wanted.
But she wasn’t a fool anymore, even where Alexander was concerned.
“The reporters have been onto you this morning,” he said.
She sighed. So it begins.
She moved ahead, up the broad stone steps that led to a pristine slate veranda. “The house has six large bedrooms, all with private sitting rooms and imported marble bathrooms—”
“They’ve been onto me, too.”
“—as well as two offices, a home theatre, an indoor pool along with outdoor swimming facilities, including sauna and ten-person hot tub—”
“I have an idea.”
She spun on him. “So do I. It entails getting back to my office and diving into some real work.”
His dark eyes sparkled in the dappled sunlight. “So you’re curious.”
The stern look slipped from her face, but damned if she’d grin back. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” His arm went out to bring her close but she dodged and headed toward the double front doors.
She turned the lock and stepped into a grand vestibule while Alex’s voice came again from behind. “The publicity hype will only get worse.”
She’d weather it. After Alex retracted his engagement statement, she’d simply keep her head down. Get on with her life. And never, ever become so involved with any man again. Not that any man could compare with Alexander.
An unnerving sensation seared the pit of her belly and she set her briefcase on the marble tiles resolutely.
Don’t think about the future. One step at a time. One day at a time.
But Alex wasn’t giving up. “We could work with the publicity rather than against it.”
Standing beneath an authentic French classic chandelier, Natalie angled slowly back. “Are you forgetting where this all started? There’s a woman who’s alone and carrying your baby.”
His eyes glinted. “That’s not been determined.”
“Then perhaps you ought to help organise some tests.”
She hated being snarky, but talk of buying multimillionaire dollar mansions or taking advantage of bad publicity wouldn’t help the situation.
“I spoke with a friend this morning,” Alex said. “Mateo’s a leading OB/GYN.”
Her ears pricked. He’d spoken of Mateo Celeca before. Alex and the doctor had been fast friends since high school.
“After samples are taken from both Bridget and myself, we should have the results of the paternity tests within a week.”
A wave of light-headedness swept over her.
If he was the father of that baby, they, as a couple, really would be over. No more acceding to games like today’s. He would need to be with Bridget Davidson and her baby. No way would Natalie place herself in the middle.
She reclaimed her detached air. “Then it’s going to be an intense week for you,” she said, starting up the stairs.