Bring Him Home by Karina Bliss Page B

accepting a loan from you. If the bank won’t lend me the money, I’m hardly going to borrow from a friend.”
    He’d been tucking into his breakfast, now he paused. “The bank’s against it?”
    Damn. She smiled. “The only way to get the business off the ground was to quit my job. Banks have to be conservative. Without an income, I can’t apply for a loan, despite having substantial collateral.”
    “Uh-huh.” He returned his attention to his breakfast. She waited for more, but he said nothing.
    “What are you thinking?” It occurred to her that she hadn’t needed that question in over a year and a half.
    His gaze lifted. “I’m thinking I’d like to read all those reports thoroughly.”
    Her knife clattered onto the china. “I knew it! It’s too late to get involved now, Nate. I’m too far down the road.”
    “I’m aware of that,” he said dryly.
    Claire ended the conversation by pushing to her feet. “I’ll grab a shower, dress and we’ll go.” She threw out a lure. “We’ve got to keep to schedule if you want to be home in L.A. within a couple of days.”

CHAPTER SIX
    C LAIRE WAS RIGHT . It was too late to start second-guessing her decision.
    As he cleared the table, Nate reminded himself that he was here to sign documents, break the trust and leave with the minimum of involvement. It was a covert op—in and out and no harm done to himself or anyone else.
    Their first appointment was with the estate agent negotiating the sale of Claire’s home.
    “So, Nate, it’s great to have you home at last.” Adam Scott pumped Nate’s arm in an enthusiastic handshake. “I’m sure we’re all keen to play our part in delivering Claire’s dream.”
    Politely, Nate freed his grip. “And how’s your part progressing, Adam?” They were here to view a formal offer from the buyers.
    “I’m glad you asked that, Nate.” Gesturing to a seat in the client’s private meeting room, the young agent refocused his inclusive smile on Claire and some of the phoniness went out of it. She’d dressed in a smoky-gray pantsuit and looked beautiful even though Nate’s new expertise suggested the style was at least four seasons out of date. He wondered when she’d last bought herself new clothes…and whether she could afford to.
    Adam opened a manila folder and steepled his hands over it. Nate half expected him to say, “For what we’re about to receive, make us truly thankful.” “The offer’s a little lower than we were expecting, Claire,” he said earnestly, “and I accept full responsibility for raising your hopes too high. But they were so enthusiastic when they viewed…what was it, three times?” He passed her the document.
    She looked at it and grimaced. “A little? This is twenty thousand under the asking price.”
    “I’m sure they’re expecting a counter.” Adam included Nate in his reassurances. “Another five or six grand and I think we’ve got them.”
    “Five or six,” she echoed, dismayed.
    “For a quick sale and a cash buyer in a stagnant market.”
    As she eyed the figure again, Nate pictured Venice Beach, fixed it firmly in his mind and kept his mouth shut.
    “My price already reflected the fact that we’re at the bottom of a housing slump.” Closing the folder, Claire returned it to Adam. “You said yourself, the market’s picking up again. Which means if I wait another six months then I’m bound to receive a better offer?”
    Good call. Nate relaxed his shoulders. Even if it was a bluff.
    Adam smiled, knowing it too. “But no one can forecast these things with any surety, Claire,” he cautioned. “And you need the money now, don’t you?”
    Never give a commission-driven salesman too much information. It became emotional ammo. Nate tensed for Claire’s reply.
    “Which is why it’s so important,” she countered, “that I decide my bottom line.” She turned to Nate. “I’m beginning to warm to your idea.” She didn’t mean it; the glint in her eyes told