Or was it the fact that any fleeting look or touch from Ms Agent herself and his body stirred.
Yet she’d made it ever so clear it wasn’t happening, not in a million years.
He was now at the point where he was convincing himself his attractive little sister was far more the agent’s cup of tea. Or indeed, her choice of cocktail, the drink suiting her fire so much better. The attention she was lavishing over Julia, totally OTT in his opinion, and yet his sister was lapping it up.
‘So, come on, what do you think?’ came Julia’s on-the-spot question.
They both turned to him expectantly, his sister’s skin annoyingly aglow and happy—she liked it...really liked it. Ah, skit.
He cleared his throat and pushed away from the door, heading to stand between them, careful to keep his eye on the window and the view beyond. ‘It’s...nice.’
He had tried to sound enthused, but the reality was his comment stank, its tone utterly tepid. Funny enough, just how he was feeling.
‘Nice?’ she pressed.
‘The view is good; the location is convenient and—’ he shrugged ‘—nice.’
‘What about the actual apartment?’
He turned and let his gaze sweep the living area, the dining table for two and the kitchenette; he didn’t even want to think on the bathroom.
She could do better.
Her sleaze of an ex-husband should be picking up the brunt of the cost and if not him, she should be letting Daniel help. But he’d had this argument a thousand times over and she wasn’t having any of it.
‘You need to stop frowning so much,’ she piped up. ‘Gives you wrinkles, you know.’
‘You’re clearly not impressed,’ Zara remarked and guilt nagged at him. It wasn’t down to her ability, or lack thereof, to sell the place; she was doing her job plenty well enough.
‘It’s not your fault,’ he assured her. ‘My sister is being stubborn, and, rather than accept other people’s money to afford the kind of place she has grown up with, she is determined to do this alone.’
Julia rolled her eyes, her arms folding across her chest as she pinned him with that pig-headed stare he was accustomed to. ‘Don’t start that again. Dad’s trust fund is already helping me out enough. I’m not taking your charity too.’
‘If not mine, then you should bloody well take Edward’s money. The guy deserves to be coughing up for all he did.’
‘Do you honestly think I want any ties to that man?’ she said f
iercely. ‘It’s bad enough that he did the rounds with my so-called friends. The sooner the divorce is final and I can cut all ties, the better.’
He could sense Zara backing away, could feel the personal nature of their conversation putting her on edge. ‘Okay, okay,’ he said, reining it back in. ‘I’m sorry to have mentioned him. I just want what’s best for you, and this isn’t it.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s impractical.’
‘Why?’
‘Kristus, Julia, you’re a tall woman—care to explain how you’re going to use that bathroom?’ He threw his hand in its godforsaken direction and she frowned, his point failing to register. ‘Allow me to demonstrate...’
He strode for the bathroom and pulled open the door. Doing his damnedest to ignore the sickly pink decor and vanity ware. He waited for them to appear before climbing into the bathtub, contorting his body to fit between the glass shower screen and the sloping wall.
He straightened as far as he could, his head slightly bowed as the shower head met with his shoulder—‘See?’
They saw, all right. Their eyes glittered, their lips quivered and then they had the audacity to erupt in almighty belly laughs—for fuck’s sake.
He dropped his gaze, dislodging himself from the enclosure with as much dignity as he could muster. ‘You think it’s so easy? You try it.’
‘I’d rather not,’ Julia blurted, her hand over her mouth as her eyes still danced.