Free Signed, Sealed, Delivered by Sandy James Page A

grocery or the mall for his handsome visage. It was as though he’d dropped off the face of the planet after their night together, or at least from Cloverleaf. Not that she knew what she’d do if she had found him. Explain, she supposed.
    She’d been the one to run away from her own passion and the feelings he’d inspired. With a note of self-disgust, she realized that had she found him she’d probably have dragged him right back into bed.
    She was thirty-five, for shit’s sake! She shouldn’t be drowning in some adolescent hormonal surge, but that was exactly how Connor affected her. Desire ensnared her in talons as sharp as a raptor’s, and she couldn’t seem to break free.
    His interruption was ill-timed. After what they’d shared, she simply couldn’t see herself fighting him for the Ryans’ business. Even if she could gird her loins and tangle with him, she had no idea who would win. Did he have experience selling real estate? Could he offer them some proof that he knew exactly what he was doing and had been successful at it?
    She’d judged him to be close to her age, which meant he’d been doing
something
to earn a living. It was hard to imagine someone else taking a plunge into a brand-new career in his thirties. Sure, she was contemplating doing a one-eighty-degree turn. But was he considering taking the same kind of bold move? And if he was, what had prompted the change? A stalled-out career? A divorce?
    God, she knew next to nothing about this man, a man she’d slept with, and she was clueless as to his job, motivation, or plans for the future.
    “You must be Connor Wilson. Come in, come in.” George shut the door behind Connor, who obviously still hadn’t noticed her, probably because he was so focused on George.
    “I’m so happy you agreed to meet with me. I hope I can convince you that trying to sell your home yourself can be risky.”
    “I already explained those risks to them.” Juliana folded her arms under her breasts and leveled a hard stare at him while she drummed her fingers on her on her elbow.
    Connor whirled to face her, mouth open and eyes wide. “Red?”
    “Red? What a cute nickname,” Sheila said, clasping her hands. “Especially because she has such pretty hair.”
    It took all of Juliana’s self-control not to roll her eyes. Sheila was right—it was a cute nickname. Except it wasn’t hers. Despite her hair, no one had ever called her Red. Not even her best friends. Only Jules. Since she didn’t want to offend potential new clients, she held her tongue. The last thing she wanted to do was get into a squabble with Connor over something that petty. There were bigger things to worry about. Besides, she rather liked the name. He was the only one to use it, which somehow made it special. Endearing.
    Still, she went for the kill. This was, after all, business. Her whole life was at stake, and she needed this listing. “I was just explaining to George and Sheila how dangerous it could be to let strangers into their home.”
    Connor nodded, his face fixed on hers. “She’s right. You never know when they’re not really interested in buying. They might just be giving your place a good look and making plans to come back later and rob you.”
    She wasn’t about to let him score any points with the Ryans. “Some might even steal from your jewelry box or”—she nodded at a jar full of coins near the front door—“take your money. You really need a good Realtor to watch out for you. Let me help you through the process of selling your home. This isn’t something you want to do on your own.”
    Sheila kept shifting her gaze between Juliana and Connor, clearly torn on who to choose. George, on the other hand, kept staring at Connor. Then Sheila must have noticed where her husband directed his attention, because she sidled up closer to Connor, all but turning her back on Juliana.
    She was losing them.
    Don’t panic!
    “So, could you give me a quick tour?” Juliana asked.