Roped into Romance
(Short Story)
von Alison Kent
Lauren Hollister stood beside Macy Webb and followed her best friend's gaze up the exterior of the four-story, redbrick warehouse recently converted into four spacious lofts. The duo had been searching forever for the perfect place to live. But this didn't look promising. And Lauren said so.
"This doesn't look promising."
"Uh, hello? We're not going to be living in the chinks between the bricks." Macy reached up a hand to shade her eyes then walked down the sidewalk and cast a glance along the length of the building's back side. "Besides, the facade is being repaired. The scaffoldings are set up over here."
"Hmm. He did say not to judge this particular book by its cover." Hard not to, though, since Lauren's degree was in commercial art and she had a critical eye. She glanced at the face of her wristwatch. "He also said he'd meet us here at 3:30."
Her cursory building inspection complete, Macy walked back to Lauren's side, reached for her wrist and the watch. "It's 3:27. We're early. He's not late."
"Not yet," Lauren said just as a sleek black Jaguar purred around the corner and eased to a stop behind her SUV. She let out a long low whistle. "Okay. I'm impressed. On time and in style."
As the car door opened, Macy leaned closer. " I'm beginning to think you ain't seen nothin' yet, sister."
Lauren's, "What are you talking about?" died on her lips as Anton Neville stepped from the car.
The architect was six foot one or two at least, and had a body to die for. For some reason — his voice? his demeanor? — Lauren had assumed from their phone call that he was older. Her father's age maybe. But he wasn't. He couldn't have been more than 30 and he was absolutely gorgeous.
His long legs ate up the distance between his car and the sidewalk, lo ng legs displayed to advantage in a pair of tobacco-colored dress pants that were very Versace. His shirt was a lighter shade of camel and his tie a flashy brown print. He was head-to-toe delicious…the head part having snagged Lauren's attention first.
Anton Neville was not your average blonde. Both his build and his complexion declared him a swimmer. And then there was the way the sun had bleached his hair.
It was long, though not unconventionally so. It was just that she'd never seen curls that were so 100 percent male.
Windblown ringlets fell over his forehead, his collar, and his ears. The look was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen, especially when she added in the barely-more-than-stubble length of beard and mustache. But when he took off his Ray-Ban sunglasses…oh, God, she was a goner.
"Anton Neville." Blue eyes flashing, he held out a hand.
Macy accepted first. "Macy Webb. Thanks for meeting us."
And then it was Lauren's turn. "Lauren Hollister," she said as his large hand swallowed her palm and long artist's fingers. She swore his touch had set her belly on fire.
"I hope I haven't kept you waiting long." He slowly pulled his hand from Lauren's and, balling her fingers into a fist that she tucked into her pocket, she said, "No, not at all.
You're right on time."
"Good." He gestured for them to go ahead, flipping through his ring of keys. "Then let's go check this puppy out."
As they made their way up the length of broken pavement to the door, Macy cast a questioning glance at Lauren and mouthed, "You're right on time?" Lauren simply elbowed Macy in the rib cage.
"Our contractors have done their best to utilize as many of the original fixtures as possible," Anton was saying, now leading the way down the high-ceilinged hallway that ran the length of the building. He stopped halfway. "Including the freight elevator."
Lauren and Macy looked on as he used his security key, releasing a huge red button that protruded from the cinder-block wall. One smack from Anton's broad palm and the heavy steel door rolled up. When he gestured for them to enter, they did, taking the trip to the fourth floor along with the
(Short Story)
von Alison Kent
Lauren Hollister stood beside Macy Webb and followed her best friend's gaze up the exterior of the four-story, redbrick warehouse recently converted into four spacious lofts. The duo had been searching forever for the perfect place to live. But this didn't look promising. And Lauren said so.
"This doesn't look promising."
"Uh, hello? We're not going to be living in the chinks between the bricks." Macy reached up a hand to shade her eyes then walked down the sidewalk and cast a glance along the length of the building's back side. "Besides, the facade is being repaired. The scaffoldings are set up over here."
"Hmm. He did say not to judge this particular book by its cover." Hard not to, though, since Lauren's degree was in commercial art and she had a critical eye. She glanced at the face of her wristwatch. "He also said he'd meet us here at 3:30."
Her cursory building inspection complete, Macy walked back to Lauren's side, reached for her wrist and the watch. "It's 3:27. We're early. He's not late."
"Not yet," Lauren said just as a sleek black Jaguar purred around the corner and eased to a stop behind her SUV. She let out a long low whistle. "Okay. I'm impressed. On time and in style."
As the car door opened, Macy leaned closer. " I'm beginning to think you ain't seen nothin' yet, sister."
Lauren's, "What are you talking about?" died on her lips as Anton Neville stepped from the car.
The architect was six foot one or two at least, and had a body to die for. For some reason — his voice? his demeanor? — Lauren had assumed from their phone call that he was older. Her father's age maybe. But he wasn't. He couldn't have been more than 30 and he was absolutely gorgeous.
His long legs ate up the distance between his car and the sidewalk, lo ng legs displayed to advantage in a pair of tobacco-colored dress pants that were very Versace. His shirt was a lighter shade of camel and his tie a flashy brown print. He was head-to-toe delicious…the head part having snagged Lauren's attention first.
Anton Neville was not your average blonde. Both his build and his complexion declared him a swimmer. And then there was the way the sun had bleached his hair.
It was long, though not unconventionally so. It was just that she'd never seen curls that were so 100 percent male.
Windblown ringlets fell over his forehead, his collar, and his ears. The look was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen, especially when she added in the barely-more-than-stubble length of beard and mustache. But when he took off his Ray-Ban sunglasses…oh, God, she was a goner.
"Anton Neville." Blue eyes flashing, he held out a hand.
Macy accepted first. "Macy Webb. Thanks for meeting us."
And then it was Lauren's turn. "Lauren Hollister," she said as his large hand swallowed her palm and long artist's fingers. She swore his touch had set her belly on fire.
"I hope I haven't kept you waiting long." He slowly pulled his hand from Lauren's and, balling her fingers into a fist that she tucked into her pocket, she said, "No, not at all.
You're right on time."
"Good." He gestured for them to go ahead, flipping through his ring of keys. "Then let's go check this puppy out."
As they made their way up the length of broken pavement to the door, Macy cast a questioning glance at Lauren and mouthed, "You're right on time?" Lauren simply elbowed Macy in the rib cage.
"Our contractors have done their best to utilize as many of the original fixtures as possible," Anton was saying, now leading the way down the high-ceilinged hallway that ran the length of the building. He stopped halfway. "Including the freight elevator."
Lauren and Macy looked on as he used his security key, releasing a huge red button that protruded from the cinder-block wall. One smack from Anton's broad palm and the heavy steel door rolled up. When he gestured for them to enter, they did, taking the trip to the fourth floor along with the
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