Big Shot(12)

“I can’t believe it’s come down to this,” she said, trying to calm the jitters in her stomach.

“It’s not over until it’s over,” Richard said, trying to be supportive.

Since she and Wes had made the bet, it had taken her five days of major hustling, dozens of cold calls, and pounding the payment before she’d gotten a solid lead from the relocation company. They had just signed on a new client, a neurosurgeon, who was transferring from Pittsburgh to Chicago with his wife and three children and were looking for a new residence. Their criteria had matched the Magnolia listing, and after flying into Chicago to walk through the house, the Sandersons had fallen in love with the property.

Unfortunately, Wes had a client who was equally enamored of the home.

First thing this morning, Natalie had submitted a full price bid for the house for her clients, confident that the seller would accept and the feather would be solidly in her hat. Less than an hour later, Max had called her back to let her know that Wes’s clients had submitted a higher bid right after hers, and wanted to know if her buyers wanted to increase their offer. Thus, a bidding war had ensued, with back-and-forth phone calls all day long between her, her clients, and Max, who was representing the seller’s best interest.

Her clients wanted the house, but it seemed that Wes’s buyers wanted it more. For every offer she submitted on behalf of the Sandersons, his client outbid. The one-point-six-million listing was now up to one-point-seven hundred and fifty, which was Wes’s buyer’s last bid. Natalie was now anxiously awaiting a return call from the Sandersons to see if they were willing to go any higher.

She nearly jumped out of her chair and Richard chuckled when her phone vibrated and chimed on her desktop, and the name Jeff Sanderson showed up on the caller ID. Taking a few seconds to collect her composure and to send a silent plea up to the betting gods that her clients would come through for her, she answered in a calm, even voice . . . only to have all her hopes crushed when Jeff said, “My wife and I decided not to increase our bid. We’re backing out.”

All of Natalie’s optimism plummeted in that moment, and the back of her throat grew dry from disappointment. She’d known that with every increase, they were getting further and further away from what the Sandersons could comfortably afford, but a part of her had been holding out hope that Wes’s client would fold first.

Jeff told her that he’d like to look at other similar houses in their price range, and she was at least grateful that somewhere down the line was a million-dollar sale. But not one that would win a bet against Wes.

More painful was making the call to Max, to let him know that her client had backed out of the bidding—which was equivalent of her conceding defeat.

“You did well, Natalie,” Max said, and she could hear in his voice that he felt bad that she’d lost the bidding war. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for your client.”

“Thanks, Max,” she replied, appreciating his kindness, instead of him saying something to kick her when she was down. He was a great guy, and she was truly bummed she wasn’t going to get the opportunity to work with him at Premier Realty.

She disconnected the call and glanced up at Richard, who looked disappointed on her behalf. He knew how important this had been to her. It hadn’t been just about winning a bet against Wes—though that would have been a nice cherry on top of the sundae—but more about proving that she had what it took to work for a luxury real estate firm. Specifically, Wes’s firm.

“I was hoping to take you out for a celebratory drink, but I’m thinking this situation calls for drowning yourself in something rich and chocolatey at Ghirardelli’s,” Richard said like the good friend he was.

She managed a small smile, but before she could reply, her phone vibrated and chimed—but this time with a text message. From Wes. She’d expected him to gloat, but his note was short and concise.

Meet me at Navy Pier beneath the main arch at nine p.m. tonight.

She had no idea what he had planned, but she’d agreed to do whatever he asked, without complaint. She was beginning to regret giving him that kind of power over her, but she’d never reneged on a bet, and she wasn’t about to start now.

*

Wes hadn’t heard back from Natalie after sending his text, and with it nearly nine p.m., he was beginning to wonder if she was going to show. He’d been standing beneath the Navy Pier sign for the past ten minutes, and for a late August evening, it was thankfully cool instead of humid. But as each minute ticked by without any sign of his sexy adversary, he had more doubts about her meeting him as he’d requested.

Which wasn’t like Natalie at all.

Even as a young kid, while she’d always been competitive, she’d never been a sore loser. No, failing at anything only made her more determined and driven to conquer whatever had eluded her grasp. He wasn’t sure how she was going to spin this loss into something positive, and maybe she’d come to the same conclusion, as well, which would explain her possible no-show.

Five minutes after nine, just as he reached into his pocket for his cell phone to call Natalie, he caught sight of her approaching the pier. She was taking her own sweet time walking toward him, as if she hadn’t kept him waiting. He knew her well enough to realize it was a deliberate slight on her part, that even though she’d obeyed his request, she was doing so on her terms. And Jesus Christ, that defiance of hers made his dick twitch at the thought of taming her in the bedroom, of making her give up control to him and enjoy doing so.