He necked his bottle and gestured to Johansson—time to break out. He had a plan brewing and he wanted a clear head when he put it in motion.
Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘HOW’D IT GO?’
EJ asked the question from under her desk, head and fingers buried in a nest of cables.
‘It was okay,’ Zara said, slipping off her jacket and rubbing away the tension in her neck. The tension that had taken up permanent residence since Daniel had walked out the previous night. ‘What exactly are you doing?’
‘Trying to make sense of this mess,’ EJ muttered. ‘The IT dude may be a dreamboat to look at, but his technical abilities I’m less than sure of.’ She gave a harrumph and tossed the stuff aside to clamber up, brushing off her summer dress as she went. ‘Just okay, huh? Doesn’t sound good.’
‘No, no, it was fine,’ Zara assured her, knowing full well her less than enthusiastic response was down to a very different cause.
‘Fine?’ EJ raised her brow. ‘So, what’s the problem?’
Zara rubbed at her neck again. ‘Blasted men.’
‘Amen to that,’ EJ said on a laugh. ‘I’m getting some water on ice—you fancy one?’
‘Please.’
She left EJ to sort the drinks and headed into her office, swinging open the window and letting in a fresh breeze. They were having a surprising heatwave and, no matter that the office was air-conditioned, nothing beat the real thing. She took a breath, taking in the distant view of the city as she evaluated the day’s viewings.
It had started out well enough. She’d got through one viewing with praise aplenty from Julia, and then the woman’s phone had pinged on the threshold of property two and giddy, excited Julia had become a woman intent on murder. She’d apologised profusely, saying she just had to make a call and, thinking to give her privacy, Zara had stepped back outside. But she’d have to have been in another neighbourhood to miss the eruption that had then ensued as Julia had delivered her brother—the man Zara was doing her damnedest not to think on—the ear-bashing of a lifetime.
‘So come on, give us the low-down,’ EJ said, coming in behind her and kicking the door too. ‘I’m all ears.’ She passed a chilled glass Zara’s way and promptly sat down on the visitor chair. ‘And don’t skimp on the detail.’
In spite of her stress, Zara laughed. ‘I wouldn’t dare.’
‘By men, are we referring to Mr Swedish Sexy-Pants?’
Her laugh erupted twice over, EJ’s way with words working some magic. ‘In part. It seems Mr Swedish Sexy-Pants took an old flame of Julia’s out on a bender last night and managed to get himself papped by the tabloids with some women.’
‘So by old flame, not really all that old, then?’
‘No, I’d say it still burns strong enough.’
‘Enough to put a dampener on the remaining viewings?’
‘No, she seemed happy enough.’ She took a sip of her drink, her mind backtracking over the viewing and Julia’s parting words. ‘She’s actually considering making an offer on the second.’
‘An offer? Well, that’s fantastic.’ And then her eyes narrowed on Zara, her lips turning down. ‘But you’re not acting like it’s fantastic.’
‘It is, you’re totally right.’ But she couldn’t inject the enthusiasm into her tone. Truth was, the first thing she’d done when she’d left Julia’s company was google Mr Swedish Sexy-Pants and been confronted with the very same image Julia had likely been sent. And it had stung, the burn of jealousy wholly out of her control.
‘So I take it the problem is nothing to do with Julia and everything to do with Mr—’ A tap at the door saved Zara from the remainder of EJ’s damning statement and she pushed up out of her seat. ‘Hold that thought.’
Zara turned back to the window and EJ headed to the door, pulling it open.
‘Someone’s here to see Zara,’ she could hear Russell, one of her trainee agents, say.
‘Well, she doesn’t have any appoint—’ EJ’s voice broke on a strange little sound. ‘Right—good—yes, I’ll be out in just a sec.’
She promptly closed the door and leant back against it as Zara turned to eye her curiously. ‘Who is it?’
‘Er... Mr Swedish Sexy-Pants.’