****
“Ms. Mackenzie?” A short, stocky blonde approached them, her navy blue blazer identifying her as an associate of Spencer Realty. The heels of her black pumps clacked on the hardwood floor of the hotel lobby as she extended her hand.
Kerry shook her hand. “Yes, I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Marilyn Spencer.” The woman smiled and glanced at Damian. “Is this Mr. Mackenzie?”
“No. I thought I explained on the phone, I’m single. This is Damian Greer. He’s a friend.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Greer. Will you be moving with Ms. Mackenzie?”
“No,” Kerry snapped, her cheeks heating. She glanced at Damian who seemed to be enjoying her discomfort. “He drove me here. Car trouble.”
The realtor fumbled. “Oh. I’m sorry. I assumed…”
“That’s all right. Marilyn, is it?” Damian grinned and stuck out his hand to the flustered woman.
“Yes. I’m sorry. Marilyn Spencer.” She took a deep breath. “Well, shall we go? My car is right out front.”
Kerry hadn’t planned on Damian going with her. So far, he hadn’t been very encouraging about her move here. The last thing she needed was him sabotaging her efforts to find a nice place to live. “You don’t have to go,” she hissed.
“Are you kidding me, darlin’? I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I want to make sure you have the absolute best condo Albuquerque has to offer.”
Kerry narrowed her eyes, then followed Marilyn through the door. She climbed into the white Nissan Sentra, tugging the seat belt and snapping it closed. A quick glance into the sun visor mirror confirmed her fears as Damian stretched out his long frame in the back seat, flashing her a grin. She stifled a groan. This was going to be a very long afternoon.
“Mr. Greer,
I assume you also live in Tulsa?” Marilyn glanced at Damian in the rear view mirror as she swung the car into traffic.
“No. Actually I live in a small town right outside of Amarillo.”
“Oh.” Probably completely confused by now, the realtor kept her eyes on the road and lapsed into silence.
The car rolled to a stop in front of a large condominium complex in the northwest part of town. The façade of each building resembled vintage New York City townhouses, with cement steps, wrought iron railings, and doors painted different colors. Damian hated it and hoped Kerry would, too.
“These are brand new condos, and we’re very proud to be the exclusive agency in town to offer them.” Marilyn shifted into park and smiled, her face aglow.
They climbed out of the car, and Damian bent to Kerry’s ear. “Ugly.”
She glared at him before following the navy blue jacket up the steps of number thirty-seven.
Damian took in the surroundings as he climbed behind them. The sound of saws, hammers, and music blasting sounded in the air as construction crews worked on buildings further down the road. None of the units on the street seemed occupied. No curtains on the windows, no cars parked in the miniscule driveways allotted each resident.
“I’m sure you’ll adore this unit,” Marilyn gushed. “It’s one thousand square feet, with a master suite and one smaller bedroom upstairs. Downstairs, we have a living room, dining area, kitchen, and half bath.” She flashed a bright smile at Kerry like she offered her a prize.
Kerry looked around and nodded.
Damian walked up to her and whispered in her ear. “Small.”
“Um.” She glowered at him, and strolled toward the kitchen. “This is a bit small.”
Bingo!
Marilyn hurried behind her. “Yes, it is small, but for a single woman with a full time job, think how easy it will be to take care of.”
The three stood in the kitchen and eyed the modern layout. Typical condominium décor. New stainless steel appliances. Damian hated them. Granite counters that everyone drooled over. He loathed them as well. Too clinical, cold. He felt as though he stood in an operating room, the terrified patient the only thing missing.
“Let’s take a look upstairs at the master suite. I’m sure you’ll be very impressed.”