Page 9 of Punked By the Playmaker
There was a long pause as his gaze swept over me from head to toe, pausing for a touch too long on my breasts before meeting my eye, where I saw the spark of interest in his.
Oh boy.
It wasn’t the first time a client had expressed an attraction to me, whether verbally or with body clues like Levi Nixon was doing now. And while I could admit he exuded a raw sex appeal—I mean,holy hell, those muscles, that chiseled jawline with just the right amount of scruff, and the devil-may-care smirk teasing up a corner of his lips—this needed to stay professional. Since I was supporting both Austin and my mother, I couldn’t afford to put my position—my reputation—at risk for a chance to get laid. Even if I would outrightkillfor an orgasm that came from a flesh-and-blood dick instead of one made of silicone.
The rough callouses of his fingertips grazed the sensitive skin of my palm as his hand slid against mine so that we could shake.
“You can call me Levi,” he purred, voice deep and husky.
And cue the damp panties.
This close, his scent curled around me like a caress, and I bit back a whimper. Fuck my life that this gorgeous, rich man was completely off-limits.
Swallowing thickly, I cleared my throat before repeating, “Levi.”
Gesturing toward the plush chairs positioned opposite my desk, I invited him to sit while rounding to my side. Space was definitely needed to clear my head. My focus needed to be ondoing my job, not on picturing what it would be like for him to sweep an arm across my desk before he bent me over the edge and made me scream.
Get a grip, girl. You’re at work!
I squeezed my thighs together, hoping that would be enough to ease the ache, as I asked, “Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for. Location, ideal square footage, bedroom and bathroom counts, any must-have features, and most importantly, price range.”
Levi reclined in his chair, propping one ankle on the opposite knee. “I want to be on the Pacific oceanfront. Everything else is negotiable.”
“With a true oceanfront property, we are talking about at least an eight-figure price tag,” I cautioned, needing to ensure we were on the same wavelength before I wasted time showing him listings that cost more than he was willing to spend.
He lifted a shoulder as if that enormous amount of money was of no consequence, remarking, “I am prepared to make an all-cash offer when we find the right house.”
A cash offer? Holy fucking shit, was this guy for real? If so, I needed to send the biggest fruit basket I could find to the teammate of his who referred me after I sold him a home last year, as a thank-you.
Working like hell to maintain my composure, I navigated the internal listings network to narrow it down to a few that met his criteria that were available for me to show him today, several of which were in the exclusive gated neighborhoods of La Jolla.
I jotted down the addresses and entry codes on a notepad before standing. And just to be absolutely certain I’d covered all my bases, I asked, “Should we consult with Mrs. Nixon? Perhaps via video call if she hasn’t made the move out here yet?”
Levi chuckled. “There never has been, nor will there ever be, a Mrs. Nixon.”
Message received. Loud and clear.
He wasn’t just letting me know he was single, but that he intended to stay that way.
It was a relief learning that he was untouchable after that initial spark of arousal. While dating was the last thing on my mind while raising Austin and taking care of an ill mother, if I did ever decide to put myself out there again, I would be looking for a partner, someone to help carry the burden. Meaningless hookups were a thing of my better-off-forgotten past.
“Shall we head out?” I motioned toward the door for him to precede me.
Levi rose to his full height, and damn if I didn’t have to crane my neck with us standing this close.
“We can take my car,” he suggested, pulling a key fob out of his pocket when we emerged from the building, the California sun high in the sky.
I plastered a fake smile onto my face. “Uh, sure.”
Allowing him to lead me across the parking lot, we came to a stop before a gleaming luxury SUV. With a beep and the flashing of headlights, it was unlocked, and Levi held open the passenger-side door for me.
“Thank you.” I ducked my head in gratitude.
By the time I was buckled, he’d already rounded the hood and gotten behind the wheel. “Where to first?”
I reached toward the touchscreen monitor, which featured a GPS. “May I?”
“Be my guest.” Another charming grin was aimed in my direction.
