It Must Be Your Love (The Sullivans #11)(10)

Extremely glad to get out of the master suite, she took him up the stairs to the second floor, and when they reached the landing, she said, “In addition to the master suite on the ground floor, there are three other bedrooms upstairs.”

“Only three, huh?” He went into one of the smaller bedrooms and picked up a soccer trophy that the home stager had put out on a boy’s desk. “Well, I guess the kids could share rooms.”

“Kids? Sharing rooms?” She shook her head, wondering how on earth he could possibly have kids she didn’t know about. Because no matter how much she’d wanted to keep her head buried in the sand whenever his name came up on TV, on the radio, or in a magazine over the years, it had simply been impossible. He was too famous. “Whose kids are going to live here?”

“Hopefully, mine, one day. You had five in your family, right?” Still reeling from the brand-new information that he was clearly planning on having a big family, she couldn’t manage anything more than a nod. And when he asked, “Didn’t you say one of your uncles had six?” she immediately corrected him with, “Eight.”

“Wow, eight kids.” He grinned at the thought of it. “Must have been a pretty fun house for them, growing up with all those kids in it.”

“It was,” she agreed, before she realized just how strange a direction their conversation had taken.

“Your uncle and his wife must have really been into each other, given all those kids they couldn’t help but make.”

“My uncle died when I was little, but from what my mother and father say about Uncle Jack and Aunt Mary, they were crazy in love with each other.”

“Crazy in love,” he said in a low voice that sent warmth rolling through her, head to toe. “I know just how that feels.”

Wait...what was she doing telling him all this personal stuff? And why on earth would she ever have been stupid enough to bring up love in his presence, when he was the last person who could possibly understand what real love was?

“Let’s head out to the grounds.” It would be good to get out of the house. Because even as big as it was, standing in the same room with Ford had been way too close.

Directly off the back patio was an incredible rose garden. Between the tower, the roses, and the water view, this property always felt close to heaven. Even when she was doing a showing, she couldn’t resist stopping to smell the roses. But the last thing she expected was for Ford to do the very same thing.

“I’ve only seen this October Moon rose in a handful of places outside of Seattle.” He inhaled their sweet scent, then said, “It’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

During their week together, they hadn’t often emerged from his luxurious hotel suite—particularly the king bed—but on one of their few spontaneous outings, he’d asked her to take him to her favorite place in Seattle. She’d brought him to the Rose Garden at Woodland Park Zoo and together they’d smelled every rose in the garden. By the time they’d returned to his hotel, ravenous for each other again after less than two hours out of each other’s arms, she’d learned that when Ford had stepped away in the garden to make a quick phone call, it hadn’t been to discuss business. He’d ordered buckets of roses to be delivered to his hotel room while they were out.

Long into the night, he’d brushed the soft petals over her skin until she was begging for more than just the petals touching her.

With the potent memories washing over her, she couldn’t lie, couldn’t do anything but nod. All these years, Mia had forced herself to bury the good memories of being with Ford. But with the scent of her favorite rose perfuming the air, it was nearly impossible to push away the heady visions of the two of them laughing and loving together. He’d thrown her off balance by appearing unannounced as her anonymous client. But it was the sweetness of these memories that were really throwing her off.

Badly wanting to shift things away from their past and back toward the house, as they headed toward the pool patio, she asked, “So how do you like this house so far?”

“How do you like it?”

Telling herself it wasn’t that strange a question to parry back at her—clients often wanted to know if she thought a house was a good investment before getting attached to it—she said, “It’s well designed, well built, and in an exceptional location. And even though the tower is unique, it manages to add to the property rather than being something that would turn off future prospective buyers.”

“But can you see a family living here?”

Mia had never done anything but her very best for a client, so she made herself push away her personal feelings for Ford and take in the house from the standpoint of a woman with a husband and kids.

“Yes,” she told him as they walked around the pool. “I can see how much fun it would be for kids to run and play on the grass, and to use the tower as a secret playhouse. And even though it’s a big property, I think it’s just the right size for a parent to make sure no one’s getting hurt or being too nuts with their brothers and sisters.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want a place where people felt like they had to worry about breaking things, or where I’d need a staff to run it.”

Finally, she felt like she was getting to know something about the real Ford. Too late, yes, but still interesting, despite herself. “Honestly, while the house is great, what you’re really paying for is the location. I actually know a lot of local families who live in similar houses and I definitely don’t think it’s too fancy for a handful of messy kids to feel perfectly comfortable tracking mud into the kitchen.” Thinking about how often she and her brothers had done that, much to the consternation of her parents, she grinned. “When we were kids, the amount of mud on the floor was directly equivalent to the amount of fun we had playing outside.”