What He Wants by Tawny Taylor Page A

she touched in her life.”
    His smile nearly took my breath away. For a man I guessed was within a handful of years of my mother’s age, he was strikingly handsome and fit. Ten years had done nothing to change that. His hair was very dark, almost black. Not curly. But not straight either. His features, as they had been then, were well balanced and masculine. Not pretty, but not too rugged either. And his body, from what I could tell, was also still in great shape. Shoulders broad. Waist narrow. His black jacket fit him perfectly, as if it had been sewn just for him. Same with the pants. The white shirt was a stark contrast against the jacket and the honey brown color of his skin. The only thing a decade had done was add a sprinkling of silver hairs glinting at his temples, just enough to make him look sexy and distinguished.
    “Katherine Deatrich was a one-of-a-kind woman.” He turned, facing me. “Why are you selling the house?”
    “I can’t afford the mortgage payments or the upkeep, and it’s too big. I live alone…unless you count my cat.”
    “I see.” He reached up, caught a curl that had flopped over my face and tucked it behind my ear. For some reason, the intimate touch sent me careening back into that old place, back into the childhood crush. Our gazes tangled, and my heart did a little hop in my chest. “I can’t get over how much you’ve changed.”
    “Kids do that,” I said, holding my breath.
    “They do. How old are you?”
    “Twenty-one.”
    He shook his head. “Damn. Where’s the time gone?”
    Still feeling a little wobbly, I shrugged. “I couldn’t say.” I motioned to the bedroom. “Erm, the master bath is a nice size.”
    “Oh, yes. The house.” He glanced around, almost as if he’d forgotten where he was. “I’ll take it. What are you asking?”
    My insides did a flip flop. Could it be I’d just sold the house? Or was he just playing with me? “Three forty-nine, nine. That’s the balance of the mortgage. I’m not making a penny from the sale.”
    “No agent?”
    “No, I didn’t want to have to pay another five to ten percent out of pocket. The closing costs alone are going to kill me.”
    “I’ll have my attorney draw up the papers and schedule the closing with the title company.”
    This couldn’t have gone any better. It was honestly too good to be true, which made me a little nervous. Thankfully, my best friend was an attorney. She’d offered to handle the closing for me pro bono. “I already have someone.”
    “Fine.” He reached in his inside jacket pocket, pulled out a card. “I’ll be expecting a call then.”
    “Do you need time to secure financing?” I asked. My fingertips brushed his as I took the card from him.
    “No, I’ll be paying cash.”
    Cash. I couldn’t imagine paying three hundred fifty thousand dollars cash for anything. “Wonderful! We’ll be seeing each other soon, then.”
    “Soon.” He took my hand again, and little buzzing electrical charges seemed to zap between us. I couldn’t believe it. After all this time, ten years, there was still something there. I wondered if he felt it too. “Goodbye, Bristol. It was a nice surprise, running into you today.”
    *
    Three weeks later, I slid a cashier’s check into my purse.
    Jill congratulated me with a sparkly-faced grin. “How are you feeling, now that the house is officially gone?”
    “Relieved.” An understatement.
    “Excellent. Want to go celebrate?” she asked, smoothing a few stray away amber hued hairs that had slipped out of her slick bun. “I have a few loose ends to wrap up, but I can be ready to go in about an hour.”
    “Sure. Okay. I guess…” I said, following her from the building. “I could go run a few errands while I wait.”
    “Cool. See you soon.” She tossed her briefcase into her sparkly new Subaru, and climbed in. I threw her a wave before unlocking the door to my trusty old Toyota. As I was pulling it open, a car pulled up behind mine and