The pretense of the real estate shoot evaporated. It wasn't about the house anymore. It was about the undeniable, unexpected heat between a confident woman who knew what she wanted and a younger man who was bold enough to ask for it.
The afternoon sun, thick as honey, poured through the bay window of the suburban Chicago kitchen. Claire, 42, ran a hand through her cascade of copper-red hair, a shade that had never come from a bottle. She was waiting for the real estate photographer, a young man named Leo, who was supposed to shoot the newly renovated space for the listing. mompov redhead
“That red against the white cabinets,” he said, almost to himself. “In the morning light, it would be a killer shot. The contrast.” The pretense of the real estate shoot evaporated
He grinned. “Now that’s a listing I’d pay full asking price for.” The afternoon sun, thick as honey, poured through
He stepped closer, close enough that she could smell his clean, soapy scent. “How about holding this one?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing a stray strand of red hair from her cheek.