Hate to Date You (Dating #4) - Monica Murphy Page 0,66

of offices are. This is where agents take their clients so they can close the deal. Not that I have any deals to close with one Grace Ricci, but she did ask for some privacy, so…

“Here you go,” I say as she enters the small office. I remain in the doorway. “You want something to drink? Coffee or tea? Water?”

“No, thank you.” Grace waves a hand, settling heavily into the nearest chair. “Sit.” She points to the opposite end of the table. “I’d like to speak with you.”

I carefully shut the door and round the table, sitting in a chair directly across from her. I rest my arms on the table and clasp my hands together, painting on my most pleasant, neutral smile. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything is just fine and dandy, young man. I have a feeling that’s thanks to you.”

My smile drops, replaced by a frown. “What do you mean?”

“I know you’ve spoken to my family. The entire lot of them. Well, at least Lorenzo and his children,” she mutters under her breath before her sharp brown eyes meet mine once more. “You know I have four more children, right?”

“I had no idea.” Should’ve known, though. The Ricci family is huge.

“I also have thirteen grandchildren and two great-grandchildren,” she says proudly. “We are a large family.”

“I saw that when I was at your son’s house the other day. That family portrait hanging in the living room was impressive.”

“Isn’t it, though? There are many of us, and while most of the time they drive me up the wall with their antics and how they never, ever listen to me, I do love them so.” She slowly shakes her head. “What’s most unusual is how they’re suddenly listening to me now. And they’re encouraging me to buy that condo by the beach.” Her eyes twinkle as she studies me. “I know that’s your influence.”

“Oh, I don’t know about—”

“Hush. Don’t bother protesting. My grandsons wouldn’t listen to me. My son definitely doesn’t listen. Even Stella would brush me off. Until you kept telling them that I was serious,” Grace says.

“Who told you I said that?”

“Stella. Your girlfriend.”

My mouth pops open. This woman is presumptive. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Uh huh. So you have no interest in her.”

I’m tempted to tell her we live together, because I’m starting to hate that we’re keeping that fact a secret, but that would blow our cover. “We’re—friends.”

Grace remains quiet for a moment. Her gaze is shrewd. Her mouth is thin, to the point that I can barely see the bright pink lipstick she wears. She taps her fingers on the tabletop, her rings twinkling with the movement, and I feel like I’m in some sort of standoff to see who breaks first.

Well, I go toe to toe with some of the best negotiators around, so I know when to hold my silence.

“I don’t believe you,” she finally says. “I saw the way you two interacted with each other Sunday night.”

I tried my damnedest to keep my distance from Stella at her parents’ house. I didn’t want any of them to become suspicious. The only reason I was there was thanks to Michael’s invitation. I made sure to mention that very fact at the dinner table at least a couple of times.

Didn’t help that Stella and I showed up together, though. That was a mistake. We should’ve driven separate cars to keep up the charade.

Damn, I really hate that we’re lying to her family. That we’re lying to everyone.

“We barely spoke to each other that night,” I say.

“Exactly. A sure giveaway that you’re interested. That you like each other.” She smiles. “I approve, by the way.”

My face is actually hot. I think I’m blushing, which I never do. I’m a grown man, for Christ’s sake. And now I’m embarrassed like a little kid, thanks to Stella’s too-observant grandmother.

I decide to change the subject. “Is that the reason you stopped by? To thank me for getting your family to actually listen to you?”

“Well, yes, though I was also hoping you could help me find one of those fancy beach condos.” She wags her eyebrows at me, making me chuckle. “Maybe you could line up a few for us to see and we could look at them next week?”

I perk right up at her suggestion. “Are you saying you want me to be your real estate agent?” I ask.

She nods. “Yes, I would love that. Though I’m not quite ready to sell the house yet. A couple of contractors