Completely Mine: Bliss Series, Book Four Page 3

  “About nine months.” He’s bouncing her up and down and she’s playing with a button on his shirt. “Never dreamed I’d be doing this now.”

  “I bet.” I watch as he slips her back into the highchair, then reaches into the fridge and pulls out a couple of beers.

  “Come on. Let’s go sit down.”

  “Shouldn’t we help …” I trail off, pointing at Olivia.

  “No! Go sit down!” she barks at us.

  “Yes, ma’am!” I call back, laughing, as I follow Dave.

  We’ve no more than sat down before the bell rings, and I’m sure it’s Cirilla. “I’ll get it,” Dave yells and jumps up, and I just sit there, wondering how she’s going to take all this, the happy family scene and everything that goes with it. In seconds, I hear Dave introducing the two women to each other, followed by his reappearance in the room, Cirilla right behind him.

  “Sir,” she says, looking straight at me, “is it okay with you if I help Olivia in the kitchen?”

  I just chuckle as I say, “Sure. Knock yourself out.” Dave and I both watch as she disappears, and then he turns to me. I know what’s coming.

  “You tapping that?” he asks, his voice low.

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “That would be wholly unprofessional of me, now wouldn’t it?” I say, frowning.

  “Oh, come on! Don’t tell me for a minute there’s not sexual chemistry between the two of you!”

  I’m dumbfounded. “I don’t know why you’d say that. There’s nothing going on there. Most days I think she hates me, and the rest of the time I’m fairly certain she’s just tolerating me because I’m the boss,” I answer, still flabbergasted. What the hell? What is he seeing that none of the rest of the world has managed to pick up on?

  “You brought her to the club last night―”

  “Holy hell, Dave, we’d just gotten off the plane! I hadn’t even checked into the hotel yet! I didn’t bring her because I wanted to―I brought her because she was already with me. There was no implication of a relationship there. Where did you come up with that?”

  “I have eyes, asshole,” he says and presses the rim of his bottle to his lips.

  Okay, it’s time to change the subject, seeing as how I have no idea what he’s talking about. “So are you staying here, or are you planning to get a different house?”

  “Why would I get a different house?” he asks from around the lip of the bottle, his brow dropping.

  “Because this one’s kind of small, and when Nadine has a brother or sister―”

  “NO! There’ll be no brother or sister! She already has two―Clint and Kathy. That’s all she’s getting! The very fact that she’s even here is something I hadn’t foreseen. I mean, yeah, I was careless, but my god, no. Not another one. This one almost killed me. I’m too fucking old for another one.” He’s adamant about this, and I can see right now if Olivia said she wanted another baby, he’d cave in ten minutes. Talk about a softie. The guy is a marshmallow where this woman is concerned, no doubt in my mind. “So back to you and the princess in there―”

  “Let it go, Dave. Not happening,” I say and throw back another swig of beer. Did I forget to mention that he’s tenacious as fuck? Because he is. He gets an idea in his head and he just won’t turn loose. It’s one of the things I love him for―and one of the things I’d like to throat punch him for.

  “But she’s ripe for the picking, and if she starts coming to the club―”

  “How ‘bout those Seahawks?” I ask, hoping to redirect him.

  “You’re just not going to entertain that idea, are you?”

  I give my head a hard shake. “Nope. And if you keep this up, I’m going to need another beer,” I inform him.

  That makes him laugh. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”

  Before I get in another word, the front door opens and Clint, Trish, Steffen, Sheila, and their kids step in. There’s a flurry of activity as the children’s jackets are all removed and collected. About the time everybody is ready to visit a bit, Olivia appears in the doorway. “Dinner is served, folks.”

  Thank god, my brain sighs, and then I realize if he starts in with that shit at the table, with Cirilla sitting right there, I’m doomed. Please, don’t let him do that, I silently beg. “Olivia, you set a beautiful table,” I tell my hostess as I step into the room. She’s got gorgeous Tuscan-inspired dinnerware with red clay chargers under the plates, and the flatware looks like it’s got turquoise embedded in the handles. “Very beautiful and rustic at the same time.”

  “Thank you. I have kinda eclectic taste, I suppose,” she says, blushing.

  “You have excellent taste. In everything except men,” I say and toss my head toward Dave.

  “Asshole,” he grumbles.

  Olivia laughs, a melodic sound that’s like windchimes in spring. “Yeah, tell me about it! It’s quite the cross I bear, but I’m the one who took it up, so I guess I’m stuck with it.”

  “Oh, you love me and you know it,” Dave growls, but he’s grinning the whole time.

  Quick as a wink, she takes his hand, looks straight into his eyes, and whispers, “Yes. Yes, I do. More than anything.” I glance at Clint and find he’s watching the two of them, a huge grin on his face.

  That simple little act sends my gaze to Cirilla, but she’s looking down at the table and smoothing her napkin onto her lap. If there was any reaction to Dave and Olivia’s display of affection, it’s not registering on her face. The meal goes on, and the conversation is lively―except for Cirilla. She manages a “This is delicious” and later a “Thank you very much” when Dave compliments her hair. I have to admit, it is beautiful. Down her back and deep auburn, it’s possibly the healthiest, thickest head of hair I’ve ever seen.

  And that’s about the extent of her contribution to the conversation for the rest of the evening. When we say our goodbyes and head toward the hotel, I ask her, “So did you have a good time?”

  “Yes, sir. They’re all very nice people.”

  “They are. Dave’s been my friend for a long time.”

  “So Olivia said.”

  That makes me curious. “Did you and Olivia have a nice time talking while you were working?”

  “Yes, sir. She’s a very kind person.”

  That strikes me as an interesting way to describe someone. “Kind? How?”

  She’s staring out the window again as she answers, “She told me if I didn’t really want to talk, we didn’t have to.”

  That’s possibly the strangest thing anyone’s said to me in a long time, and I make up my mind that I’m going to call Olivia and ask her what led her to say that. If I had to guess, I’d say after attempting to start a conversation half a dozen times, she just gave up and said that, but I really want to know if she picked up on something I haven’t.

  The hotel lobby is busy, and I ask her, “Would you like to have a drink before we go upstairs?”

  “Why, sir?”

  Why indeed? What the hell made me think she’d want to do that? “Oh, no reason. I just thought it would be nice.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is that yes sir, it would be nice, or yes sir, I’d like a drink?”

  “I suppose we could talk about the apartments I found,” she says, to my surprise.

  “Okay. That sounds like a good idea. Let’s go.” As I point toward the bar, she heads that way and I bring up the rear. The server shows up almost instantly and I order for both of us, a scotch on the rocks for me and, at her request, a bourbon, neat, for her. Bourbon. Never would’ve pegged her as a bourbon drinker. “So, what did you find?”

  “I found quite a few nice ones. Here are the ones by the university.” She starts pulling sheets out of her bag, folded neatly, and she unfolds them and places them flat on the table. “So this one is really nice,” she says, pointing, and I look at the page. “But this one is really nice too,” she says, pointing to yet another one. “And t
his one here, it’s very, very nice,” she says, handing it to me. It’s in Bellevue, and it’s a beautiful place.

  I look them over, then look up at her. “Anything else?”

  “Just this one.” She pulls out a piece of paper, unfolds it, and lays it on the table. I take a look at it and almost gasp.

  It’s in Lower Queen Anne and it’s spectacular, overlooking Centennial Park, so near the water that the Sound can be seen in the picture. Then I look at the amenities―rooftop garden, private balcony, two bedrooms, two baths, bonus room as an office, parking garage, swimming pool and gym in the basement, laundry, all utilities included except electric. It’s not just beautiful―it’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. “Oh, this is awesome.”

  “Yes, sir. I saved the best for last,” she says, and I almost see a smile.

  “How much?”

  “They said forty-five hundred.” I nod until she says, “But I talked them down to thirty-seven with a two-year lease.”

  My jaw drops and my eyelids fly up before I say, “You’re shitting me.”

  “No, sir. I thought that was pretty good, actually.”

  “It’s not good. It’s great. How soon will it be available?”

  Now I do see a tiny smile. “Now. I asked them to draw up the lease, so it’s ready if you want to sign.”

  I throw my head back, close my eyes, and let out a long sigh, then drop my head and look straight into her eyes. “Cirilla, that’s the most amazing thing … Yes. I’ll sign it tomorrow and I’ll go ahead and pay two years’ lease in advance. That’ll make them happy.”

  Her voice is soft and barely above a whisper when she says, “I thought you might want to do that, sir. In that case, it’ll be thirty-two hundred a month.”

  I don’t believe this. I’m in real estate and I couldn’t have negotiated this if I’d tried. “Woman, you are a wonder,” I manage to squeak out.

  “Thank you, sir,” she responds and stares at the tabletop.

  I really can’t talk. I’m in shock. We finish our drinks in silence and head up toward the suite. When we reach her door, I finally pull some words together. “Cirilla, look, I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve an assistant as good as you, but I’m very, very thankful you want to move out here with me. Very thankful. So thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, sir. Goodnight.” I stand there as she shoves the room key into the lock, then slips inside and closes the door behind her.

  My head is still reeling when I land in the bed, and I can’t sleep for everything rolling through my mind, replaying the entire night. What is it about this woman? What’s going on there that I can’t figure out?

  Based on the way she reacts every time I try to ask her something personal, I’m guessing I’ll never know.

  * * *

  There’s a little chill in the air the next morning, and I’m glad I brought a jacket with me. I grabbed the navy one, and it looks good with my gray slacks and white shirt. And yes, a tie. Because if I’m going to do it, I’m going to do it right.

  When Cirilla knocks on the adjoining door and I open it, she’s dressed and ready to go. “Let me get my watch,” I tell her, reaching for it, then opening the door wider. “Come on in and I’ll just be a minute.”

  All she says is, “Yes, sir,” and then I get a look at her. The dress she’s wearing is the same shapeless kind of thing she always wears, and I wonder how she’d look in something that actually fit her. She’s got nice skin, but those glasses … she really needs to do something about those. Ugly things. And the shoes she’s wearing look almost like an orthopedic issue. Maybe she’s got problems with her feet. Of course, if she did, the only way I’d ever know would be if she were limping. She’s sure as hell not going to talk about it.

  “Okay, ready?” I ask and open the door to my room.

  “Yes, sir.” She steps out into the hallway and I follow, then push in on my door after I’ve closed it to make sure it’s latched.

  She’s told me the general vicinity of the place, so I head that direction, and when we get down there, I ask, “So which one is it?”

  “That one right there,” she says, pointing to a huge building with green canvas awnings. It looks like something out of the fifties, and now I’m getting a little worried that it’s a dump with a bit of spit and polish.

  I never should’ve worried.

  The lobby is ultra-modern, its walls adorned with pricey framed art, and there’s a sculpture thrown in every few dozen feet. We take the elevator all the way to the top and when we get there, the car opens to a floor with only three doors. “Just three units on this floor?”

  She nods. “Yes, and the people who lease the other two are only here part of the year, so a good portion of the time you’ll have it to yourself.”

  “You’ll be here,” I remind her.

  “I try to be unobtrusive, sir,” she says. What she really means is invisible, I’m sure.

  “I doubt you’ll be obtrusive. You probably won’t be here long enough for that.”

  Her brow drops. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I just mean I’m guessing you’ll want to get your own place so you don’t have to share with me,” I say in way of explanation. But I’m sorta shocked at how fast she jumped on that.

  All she says is, “Oh.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s see this wonderful place you’ve found,” I tell her and unlock the door.

  This time I do actually gasp. It’s absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous. We’re talking incredible here. Thirty-second floor, two blocks from the waterfront, and Puget Sound is laid out in front of us like a ribbon in the crisp stir of a breeze. When I open the balcony door, a blast of fresh air hits me and I gasp again. “You okay, sir?” I hear her ask me from somewhere inside.

  “Yes. I’m fine.”

  There’s a load of uncertainty in her voice when she asks, “Is this acceptable?”

  “Acceptable? Is this acceptable?” I repeat. “Cirilla, never in my wildest dreams would I have expected to find a place like this. And the deal you got me? Amazing! Just look at the world down there below us, and the Sound out there in plain view. And smell that air! It’s almost like we’re out in the mountains somewhere.” The way the building is turned denies me a view of Mount Ranier in the distance, but that’s okay. It’s no big deal, really. “So which room do you want?”

  “That’s up to you, sir,” she says and points to the doors on opposite sides of the common living area. “You get to choose.”

  I walk on through the large dining area on the right and open the bedroom door. It’s huge, big enough for the bed, dresser, chest, nightstands, and a small, private seating area, complete with hookups for an entertainment system. The bathroom is equally spacious, its deep brown slate tiles glowing. The fixtures are all very new, and so is the tile floor. There’s a good-sized walk-in closet off the bathroom, which I think is just about the handiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  When I’m finished looking around, I make my way to the other side of the living area, through the large conversation area and into the room on the left. It’s equally as enormous as the other bedroom but painted a lighter shade of gray. Then I open the bathroom door.

  There’s a nice tiled shower with glass doors and a built-in seat, but that’s not what catches my attention. No, it’s the object in the middle of the room.

  It’s a huge step-in bathtub. The thing is big enough for three or four people. And it’s jetted, the controls mounted nearby on the tile skirt around it. When I open the closet door, I’m even more shocked. It’s twice as big as the one across the way, with closet systems all around the perimeter and a large bench down the middle, its walnut top resting on a platform made of dozens of little slide out drawers. Shoes. They’re for shoes. Brilliant.

  And that tells me that this bedroom should be Cirilla’s. No, she’s not glamorous or frou-frou, but she is a woman and, as such, she would probably really enjoy having a closet like this. The lighter colo
r, the tub, the closet, all scream female.

  “Do you like it, sir?”

  I nod. “Very, very much. And I’ve made my decision. This will be your room. I’ll take the other one.”

  “Are you sure, sir? Because I can―”

  “Yes. I’m sure. I can’t see me ever getting into a bathtub, and this closet is way too big for my clothes. No, the other one is just fine.”

  There’s a knock at the door and it opens slightly. “Anybody home?”

  Cirilla hustles out into the big living space and says, “Oh! Mrs. Durbin! This is my employer, Brian Zimmer. Sir, this is Bridget Durbin, the realtor.”

  “Pleasure to meet you,” I say and thrust out my hand. She doesn’t disappoint and takes it immediately, giving it a firm squeeze and a little shake.

  “Thank you. Pleasure to meet you too. I take it this place is satisfactory?” she asks with a sly smile.

  “Very. Do you have the papers ready?” I ask.

  She’s pulling all kinds of documents out of her bag. “Yes, several versions. How will you want to pay?”

  “Two years. Cash. Will that be acceptable?”

  “Of course,” she says and smiles. “So that will be thirty-two hundred per month and no deposit.”

  “Very good.” I draw out my wallet from my back pocket and pull out the cashier’s check I already had made out, then hand it to her. “Seventy-six thousand and eight hundred dollars.”

  “All right then! If you’ll sign right here, I’ll give you a copy and it’ll be yours.” She points to a line on the lease, and I sign and date it. “And here are the keys. Also, here’s a list of things the building management provides. I’m sure you’ll find that useful. I hope you enjoy living here.”

  “Oh, I think we will. And here’s your commission check,” I say with a smile.

  “You know, you two make a cute couple,” she says with a grin and turns to leave.

  What the fuck? Cute couple? Then I realize―she thinks we’re together together, not just together. Then I get a glimpse of Cirilla’s face.