BAD REPUTATION

Olivia Carter sat in the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly, her coffee forgotten in the cupholder. The parking lot was quiet, save for the occasional squeak of tires on asphalt and the distant hum of the city. Her friend, Tessa's voice came through the speaker, sharp and teasing as always.

"I still can't believe Jack canceled again last night," Olivia said, shaking her head. Her eyes scanned the row of sedans and SUVs, but she wasn't really looking.

"I can believe it," Tessa shot back. "Honestly, Liv, I've hated that guy from day one and you know it. What the hell do you see in him... Well, apart from his money? You deserve better than-"

"He had a rough night," Liv interrupted gently, laughing despite herself. "He didn't mean it. You know how busy he is..."

"Busy? Sure. Busy being shady. Too busy to remember the one thing that actually matters... showing up for the woman he supposedly loves?" Tessa groaned. "You know what, I'm sick of this, I and Izzy have been talking, and we might have to stage an intervention."

Olivia chuckled, shaking her head. "Jokes on you, Tess. I'm about to meet up with Izzy right now." She tapped the phone lightly against her ear for emphasis. "I'm showing her the houses this afternoon, so... mission accomplished before your intervention even starts."

"You are?" Tessa's laugh carried a mix of disbelief and amusement. "Well, that sucks. I was really looking forward to her and I talking some sense into you."

"Yes," Olivia replied, a grin tugging at her lips. "And that means I get to see her before you talk her into your bloody intervention."

Tessa snorted. "Wouldn't stop us, though. Just... slow us down a little."

"Yeah, yeah. Intervention or not," Olivia said with a laugh. "I'll survive."

The line went quiet for a beat before Tessa's voice softened. "Alright, Liv. Good luck with your client. Don't let her pick a dump just to mess with me."

"Copy that. Love you, Tess."

"Love you too. And remember... intervention pending."

With that, Olivia ended the call and tucked her phone into her bag. She exhaled, letting the tension in her shoulders ease as she opened the car door. The late-afternoon sun spilled over the lot, glinting off the polished SUVs and giving everything a warm, golden glow. She stepped out, smoothing the front of her suit and grabbing the folder of listings she'd been preparing. Today was about showcasing homes, not obsessing over Jack.

But even as she clicked the car door shut behind her, a small, nagging thought lingered-maybe Tess was right. It did hurt when Jack had cancelled on their date yet again. She'd spent forty minutes picking that dress last night. Forty minutes for a text that said Rain check? She'd tried to understand but if she was being honest with herself, she'd been very disappointed.

Tessa could be right. Maybe some interventions were unavoidable... maybe even necessary. And she and Jack had to have a serious conversation about their relationship.

____________

"Easy, little sister," Derek said into his phone as he pressed the button for the lift to her floor. "I'm here now,"

"Less of the little," his sister, Isabella snapped, her irritation making him grin.

He gave a mock shudder. "Quit the strop, then." Someone swept up behind him, a scent wrapping around him, vanilla twisted up in something so enticing he was damned if he could place it, and his eyes swerved of their own accord.

"Strop!" Isabella continued on the other end, "You were supposed to be here half an..."

His sister's voice trailed away into the distance, his sight landing on the woman whose interesting scent had nothing on the visual. He felt his mouth quirk, his interest instant.

She was beautiful. So not his type, a definite 'no' on paper, but when presented with the physical, she was all kinds of yes. Usually, the women he went for looked very different. Slim, tall, models even but this woman looked nothing like that.

She was the opposite in fact. She was short, but in a way that made her even cuter, still quite short despite the heels she wore and she was... Chubby. Curvy. Literally carrying all the right fat in the right places.

She faced the lift, waiting just as he was, one purple stiletto tapping impatiently, her body encased in a fitted black trouser suit, a folder hooked under one arm, all quite usual but-

"Are you listening to me, Derek?"

"Sure, I'll be right up," he said distractedly, cutting the call and pocketing the device.

It was her hair that fascinated him. The reddish-brown mass was parted high to one side, windswept almost. And then there was her make-up, neutral save for the liner around her eyes and the bold lip colour... was that purple?

His gaze narrowed over it and she must have sensed his attention, her eyes flickering in his direction. "You know, it's rude to stare."

Her voice was husky, a crisp edge that rasped along his spine and sealed her appeal. Derek was hooked. Her eyes were back on the doors, her lack of interest obvious. He should've taken it as a sign, but since when had he backed off from anything he fancied? In truth, her lack of interest only added to the appeal.

"Rude?" he said, raising his brow. "I've been called many things before- arrogant, reckless, even an asshole-but rude, not had that one yet."

Her mouth twitched but she didn't turn to look at him, the ping of the lift arriving serving as a temporary interruption.

The doors opened and he gestured for her to precede him. "See, I'm not entirely rude."

She looked at him then, her grey eyes sparkling and those bold-coloured lips lifting into a smile that momentarily gutted him. Jesus, she was hot. The bow-like shape stretched and still her lower lip was full- swollen, even-almost as though it had just been thoroughly devoured. Maybe she'd had to reapply that colour after it had been rubbed clean away. Oh, to be the cause of that little misdemeanour.

"Thank you."

It took a second to realise she had spoken, to realise he was staring all over again, and then sanity returned. "You're welcome-which floor?"

He pressed the number for his sister and her thick black lashes lowered to trace his move. "The same." she replied.

He nodded and came to stand beside her. The lift closed and together they stood, the silence heavy and loaded... at least to him.

Did he have to be heading to the same floor?

Olivia had had enough of arrogant assholes in her life and now she was stuck in a lift with a self-professed one. She couldn't deny he'd amused her with his honesty and self-deprecating introduction though.

But he was trouble. She didn't have to be told. She just knew it.

He wasn't like Jack. He wasn't smooth and perfect, clean-shaven and pristine. No, this man was all about the stubble and the bedhead hair. Like a sun-kissed surfer plucked from the ocean, jazzed up and dumped in the city. The jeans and sweatshirt hugging his imposing frame looked laid-back but they screamed designer from top to toe. And the way he had her pulse tripping over itself, he was just as dangerous. On every level.

"Now that you know so much about me," he suddenly said, his voice thick and exciting her far more than was fair, "how about you let me take you for a drink?"

Olivia almost swallowed her tongue, the portfolio digging into her side as she turned rigid. "No, thank you. I'm busy." she replied.

"Not right this second," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief and amusement and holding her own. "But at a mutually agreeable time, of course?"

Of course. She mentally rolled her eyes. Would he just get the hint?

Her resolve was good, but she wasn't immune. She could feel the temptation well enough and the sooner she got free of it, the better. She was in a relationship for God's sake and she sure as hell wasn't a cheater. She dragged her eyes away, forcing them on the intricate pattern twisting through the gold lift door ahead. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Care to tell me why?"

Because I'm not a fool, Olivia thought, but aloud, she said, "I know you."

The lift announced the arrival of their floor and he spoke over it. "You do?"

"Obviously not you exactly," she said, relief sweeping through her as the lift doors opened and she stepped out.

Purposeful, she turned left towards Isabella's and hoped he would take the hint or a different direction at least. He didn't.

"Obviously," he reaffirmed, falling into step behind her. "I'd definitely remember if I'd met you before."

Her tummy gave an annoying flutter and she squashed it. She was going to have to be more specific. Brutal even... "What I mean is, I know your type."

"My type?"

"Hell, yeah, great in the sack, perfect bedroom material..." she sent him a scathing look "...but beyond that...well, we don't go there, do we?"

His step faltered. "Wow, hung, drawn and quartered."

She could hear his surprise, feel his unease, and victory surged warm in her veins. Her harsh assessment had hit its mark, hopefully enough to send him running. And if that didn't, the hint of her being the relationship kind should do it.

"You have quite the opinion of men." He added.

She gave a derisive laugh and turned a bend, the sanctity of Isabella's hotel room now only a few strides away.

"So, you're either an anti-male lesbian-" it was her turn to falter mid-step "-or you've been burned before. Which is it to be?"

A lesbian... She laughed with reignited vigour. It wasn't the first time she'd been mistaken as such. She found it quite flattering actually, but she wasn't going to tell him that.

"Typical arrogant male-just because I'm not interested in you per se, I have to be a lesbian." She'd arrived at Isabella's door and to emphasise her point, she faced it and rapped against it. "Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do."

He wasn't moving away. If anything, he was settling in right alongside her-what the fuck? She didn't have time to ask what he was playing at; the door swung open to reveal her rather disgruntled-looking friend and client.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, Izzy." Olivia said.

Izzy frowned, "You should be," she said, shrugging a tan leather jacket over a white T and looking from Olivia to her unwanted companion. "The pair of you."

Pair of us?

Olivia looked at him and he gave her a bemused shrug. "Seems you can't get away from me that easily."

"Oh, good God, Derek, don't tell me you've hit on my estate agent and friend already?" Isabella's eyes flashed furiously, and Olivia observed that their colour was strikingly similar to his.

"I wouldn't call it hitting on, exactly," he said, with another one of those annoyingly casual shrugs. "We were actually just discussing sexual tendencies."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Isabella looked at Olivia, cheeks flushing, eyes bright. "Seems I owe you an apology,"

"You do?" Olivia's voice sounded faint, her brain rapidly piecing the situation together.

"This animal," Isabella said, gesturing to him in mock disdain, "Is my brother. My older brother, to be exact. But seriously, Derek, what the hell?"

"Brother?" Olivia repeated, her eyes sweeping to the man himself, who she now knew as Derek, the realisation that she wasn't going to evade him any time soon setting off a troubling dance in her chest.

She recalled that Isabella had told her weeks ago that her brother was moving back into town after years of being away, but she hadn't mentioned that he was back already or that he would even be here with them today.... Or that he was so damn attractive and charming.

"In my defence," he said, a curious frown creasing his brow, "She brought it out in me."

"That's your excuse?" Isabella said incredulously, delivering a playful shove that barely moved him, his eyes remaining fixed on Olivia's every bit as curious and heated and very, very interested. "If I didn't value your opinion so much, I'd tell you to just go and leave us to it."

"Seems that makes two of you today," he said, his penetrating gaze reaching inside Olivia's mind and triggering a replay of all that she had said with embarrassing clarity. "It's a bloody good job my ego is big enough to take it."

"No one's ego can be as big as yours, weirdo," Isabella said. "It's just lucky your heart is also as big."

"And don't you forget it," he said, looking at his sister with open affection now, freeing Olivia at last, to breathe, to think, to get with it... "So, are we going to take this show on the road? Or are we going to stand here and do more Derek-bashing?"

Isabella gave a giggle and, God help her, Olivia smiled, the move easy. Too easy.

"For the record," Derek added when he saw their reaction, "my preference is definitely for the former."

And then Olivia laughed. Really laughed. He really was charming. Good-looking. Dangerous.

No. No. No.

... And besides, she reminded herself, she was already in a relationship. With Jack Stewart.

__________

Derek was grinding his teeth. His arms folded across his front. His body rigid as he leant back against the door that housed what Olivia had referred to as an ample bathroom for this size of apartment, in this desirable area.

He'd say this: desirable or not, you could certainly save time going for your morning constitution while brushing your teeth over the sink. And the shower-over-the-bath-you had to be some kind of contortionist to use it. Why was he the only one seeing these issues?

At least this third property was an improvement on the previous two. It had natural daylight for starters, and no pounding pub or store adjoining.

He watched them cooing over the open-plan living space now-the strategically placed sofa that permitted the perfect view of the park across the road and the minute television that was as big as it could ever be in the space available-and bit into his tongue.

He wasn't sure what was more painful: The fact he'd been forced to take the estate agency's car when his state-of-the-art car was at the ready, seriously, what sense did that make? Absolutely none. Or the fact that his opinion, when he chose to voice one, was counting for nothing, despite what his sister had said to the contrary earlier. Or was it the fact that any fleeting look or touch from Ms Agent herself and his body stirred. Yet she'd made it ever so clear it wasn't happening, not in a million years.

He was now at the point where he was convincing himself his little sister was far more the agent's cup of tea. Or indeed, her choice of cocktail, the drink suiting her fire so much better. The attention she was lavishing over Isabella, totally OTT in his opinion, and yet his sister was lapping it up.

"So, come on, what do you think?" came Isabella's on-the-spot question.

They both turned to him expectantly, his sister's skin annoyingly aglow and happy-she liked it...really liked it. Ah, skit. He cleared his throat and pushed away from the door, heading to stand between them, careful to keep his eye on the window and the view beyond.

"It's...nice." He had tried to sound enthused, but the reality was his comment stank, its tone utterly tepid. Funny enough, just how he was feeling.

"Nice?" his sister pressed.

"The view is good; the location is convenient and-" he shrugged "- nice."

"What about the actual apartment?"

He turned and let his gaze sweep the living area, the dining table for two and the kitchenette; he didn't even want to think about the bathroom.

"You need to stop frowning so much," Isabella piped up. "Gives you wrinkles, you know."

"You're clearly not impressed," Olivia remarked and guilt nagged at him. It wasn't down to her ability, or lack thereof, to sell the place; she was doing her job plenty well enough.

"It's not your fault," he assured her. "I just want what's best for Izzy, and this isn't it."

"Why?"

"It's impractical."

"Why?"

"What the hell, Izzy, you're a tall woman-care to explain how you're going to use that bathroom?" He threw his hand in its godforsaken direction and she frowned, his point failing to register. "Allow me to demonstrate..."

He strode for the bathroom and pulled open the door. Doing his damnedest to ignore the sickly pink decor and vanity ware. He waited for them to appear before climbing into the bathtub, contorting his body to fit between the glass shower screen and the sloping wall. He straightened as far as he could, his head slightly bowed as the shower head met with his shoulder-

"See?"

They saw, all right. Their eyes glittered, their lips quivered and then they had the audacity to erupt in almighty belly laughs-for fuck's sake.

He dropped his gaze, dislodging himself from the enclosure with as much dignity as he could muster. " You think it's so easy? You try it."

"I'd rather not," Isabella blurted, her hand over her mouth as her eyes still danced.

"Okay." He looked at Olivia pointedly, ignoring how her amused gaze lit him up inside. If she thought the apartment was so good, she could bloody well demonstrate. "Why don't you do the honours?"

His demand appeared to sober her up, her eyes flicking between the pair of them and her professionalism winning out as she said, "Sure, could you just hold this?"

She thrust the portfolio into his chest and stepped inside the room. He realised the error of his suggestion immediately. He should have first left the confined space before goading her to enter, to get up close.

Head out of your pants, head out of your pants, head out of your pants.

"It's like this," she said, eyes flashing defiantly, their bodies chest to chest -she could tell him anything now and he'd fall for it, but, to his surprise, she raised her hand and pulled at the shower screen, the damn thing moving towards him as she stepped away. "Just back up a little," she ordered.

Back up? He was pressed into the edge of the toilet as it was. He spread his legs, the position oddly vulnerable and erotically acquiescing. He watched, fascinated, as the access opened up, creating space to permit her entry, all graceful and easy as she climbed inside.

But, ha, the shower head still looked ridiculous as it brushed the tip of her head, despite her height.

"And you can remove this for more height, like so," she said, reading his mind and slipping it out of its rest. "Which also makes it great for cleaning the bath." She gave a sweep of the area but in truth all he could think about now was her wet and naked and all soaped-up-not even the sickly pink backdrop could dampen the heat spreading below his waist.

"Perfectly demonstrated, thank you, Liv." His sister gave him a smug grin. "See, big bro, that's how it's done."

"You're welcome," came Olivia's response, his eye swiftly returning to her and the imaginings he shouldn't be having. She slotted the shower head back in place and slipped him a sidelong glance through the glass screen. Her fingers froze over the contraption, her eyes widening ever so slightly, her pupils following suit-did she know where his head was at? And then the moment was gone, a shutter falling over her expression as she gave a small cough, her eyes snapping away.