Chapter Two

Brielle

After a deep sleep with no dreams that I can remember, I wake breathing heavily, exhausted to the bone, and covered in a thin but cloying layer of sweat. I immediately stretch my right hand out to tap the button on my alarm clock, silencing the aggressive, noisy peal that threatens to lead off my long day by conjuring a headache.

Why am I so tired? It's not like I was up late…

A glance down at my tangled sheets provides a clue.

Huh. Must not have slept as peacefully as I thought.

I throw back the twisted cotton, swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit up, rubbing my eyes as I yawn. I have never been that much of a morning person, and still find it hard to believe I chose a profession that many times calls for being not just awake, but functional, before ten a.m.

Chuckling to myself at the familiar battle in my brain - Six o'clock. Seriously? Is the sun even up yet? - I make myself stand up and stumble toward the bathroom for a quick shower.

"If people only knew what it costs me to set eight o'clock appointments," I grumble under my breath, then yawn again as I turn the handle and wait for the water to come up to an acceptable temperature.

The cool dampness of my skin reminds me I had been sweating when I woke. I frown at myself in my bathroom mirror as I quickly brush out the tangles in my shoulder-length brown hair.

They said I would probably hit menopause quickly after my hysterectomy, but that was years ago… lucky it took this long, I guess. I need to remember to ask Dr. Adranis if there is anything that can help with night sweats at my next appointment.

My frown deepens when the memories of why the surgery had even been necessary threaten to surface, and I tamp them down.

Hard.

Nope. Not today, I tell myself firmly, and make myself concentrate instead on getting rid of every tangle.

A faint ripple of movement in the mirror catches my attention, and I notice a small cloud of steam rising from the open top of the glass-walled shower behind me.

Finally. It's taking longer and longer for the water to get hot. Note to self - may be time for a new water heater. Sigh. Another addition to my 'fixer-upper-when-I-have-time' list…

Turning, I close the distance to the shower. I slide open the glass door, step in, and slide the door closed again, reveling in the warmth that immediately wraps around me like a blanket. Putting my back to the showerhead, I tilt my head back and wet my hair thoroughly before pumping shampoo from the dispenser into my hand and lathering it into my hair. The familiar fragrance of vanilla soothes my semi-sleepy awareness, dragging me softly and gradually toward fully awake.

By the time I rinse out the shampoo, replace it with equally fantastic-smelling leave-in conditioner, and reach for my loofah and body soap, my brain has snapped to attention and is racing down the list of the day's tasks.

Let's see… meet the Millers at eight at the Esters property for the first of four showings. Two conference calls - or was it three? I need to check that - followed by the open house on Prescott Avenue from noon to two today. Then two closings. Oh, and I need to follow up with Anne at some point today about the bidding war on that warehouse...

The frown I had worn earlier returns as I step out of the shower and towel off, then blow-dry my hair before I twist it upward into a sleek chignon.

The warehouse property has me puzzled. While its location is decent - at the edge of a well-established and high-traffic industrial complex - I personally do not think it's worth the extreme attention the site has garnered of late. What started off being a relatively easy set of circumstances veered into complication overnight. My client and at least one other party that I am aware of are fighting to claim that location as their own.

I might understand the competition over it if the existing building was in sound condition. But it isn't. Not by a long shot. 'Derelict' is even too kind a term. Frankly, even the cost to raze it to the ground and start over from scratch more than outweigh its current market value. Pile on a City Planning and Zoning Commission with a very narrow and inflexible scope of what the property can and cannot be used for, and the whole situation has become a nightmare. I have tried to persuade my client to focus a different direction, but he is intent on owning that warehouse.

Go down that rabbit hole later. For now, get dressed. Pick out comfortable shoes, too - you are going to do a lot of walking today.

Ugh.

I move to my closet and look once, longingly, at the left side where my jeans and t-shirts reside before I step dutifully to the right and grab a pale blue linen pantsuit that will at least allow for low-heeled shoes.

Allen

We have been in our Wednesday morning meeting all of two minutes when I drop my bombshell on him. Grant stares open-mouthed at me from behind his desk before he finally finds his voice.

"What do you mean, you're leaving?"

"Just what I said," I reply calmly. "It's time. You knew going into this that I had plans to start up a security company. It's time for me to switch gears and focus on that."

"I know. I just didn't expect us to have this conversation before the first of next year."

"Grant, you've got a great thing here. It's solid, with an excellent team in place. Trust me, the way this company is structured, now is the optimal time for me to go my own direction. I'll still be your partner, Grant, just a silent one."

The younger man considers for a moment, then nods.

"Were you planning to stay around here?"

"I'm thinking a bit further north, actually. I have been considering the Dallas/Fort Worth area for a while now, specifically Pantego. It's situated about halfway between the two, so it's the ideal location."

"So, what comes next?"

"I'm going to travel up there next week and have a look around. Some friends of mine recommended a realtor that can help me find office space and a house."

Grant grins despite the circumstances.

"Not gonna do another apartment? Had your fill of yelling couples and screaming kids?"

I chuckle. "And how. Nope, I am going all in. A space all to myself that with any luck will have at least fifty feet of yard all the way around it so I can control how close my neighbors get."

"When do you think you'll make the move?"

"By the end of the summer, at the latest," I answer honestly. "At least, I hope it doesn't take longer than that. I have been restless for a while now. This is something I really want, Grant, and I need to get started."

Grant stands and extends his hand.

"Let me know if I can help in any way."

"Thanks, man."

***

When I get back to my desk, I pull out my cell phone and navigate to the last text message I had seen from Kenneth Myers, my roommate from college.

Here is the number of the realtor we used. Extremely helpful, knows her stuff. She will do right by you.

The text ends with a name and phone number.

Drumming my fingers on the desk, I dial and wait. Four rings later a rich, sultry tone fills my ear, making the blood in my veins rush to places that it has no business traveling to while I am sitting at my desk in an office with glass walls.

"You've reached the voicemail for Brielle Cerver," the smokey voice intones. "I'm terribly sorry to have missed your call. Please leave your name and number and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

I clear my throat and fervently will my body's reaction away as I wait for the obligatory beep.

"Ms. Cerver, my name is Allen Jones," I say into the phone I am now gripping tightly in my effort to focus on the task at hand. "I'm looking to buy both residential and commercial property in Pantego, and you came highly recommended."

I pause, barely stopping myself from adding 'and you sound hot as hell'.

What are you, sixteen? Idiot. Get it together.

I clear my throat again and press on.

"If you could please call me back, I'd appreciate it. I'm planning to travel to that area next week and I'd like to line out some showings."

I finish the voicemail by reciting my number, then disconnect the call, and am immediately struck by the sudden urge to call her number a second time just to hear that sexy, breathtaking voice again.

Somehow, I overcome the impulse, and purposely wait several minutes to make sure I will not be embarrassed before I stand up to walk to the conference room for my ten o'clock planning session with the engineering group.

I nod at each team member as they enter the room and take their seats, pushing any thought of Brielle Cerver - and my very out-of-character reaction to her - firmly to the back of my mind for the moment.