SURVIVAL INSTINCT

CHAPTER: 1

Sarah Miller, the blonde with sea-blue eyes, had been forewarned. People had said to her that real estate is a cutthroat business, but she thought they didn't mean that literally.

Sarah Miller is a 27-yr-old, divorcee, and is the new-minted realtor, who has recently embarked into the real estate business in Kansas City, Missouri, U.S.A. She sells houses. Or we could say that she is trying to sell, because she is brand new at her job, and if truth has to be told, she has not sold even a single flat. She should have therefore realized, when she received a call that came in from 102 South Massachusetts Avenue, that it was too good to be true.

It was nine in the morning, and a Friday in September and Sarah was at her usual workplace. For the last five weeks, she had been on call for all of twenty-four hours, seven days a week. She was looking at setting up her own working hours, though.

It has to be mentioned that Sarah didn't actually have anything else to do. She used to work at the make-up counter at the mall, but when she received her real estate license, she quit her job and started living off her savings in the hope that her dwindling bank balance would give her the incentive that she needed to succeed. So far it had not worked, and if something did not change soon, she would have to crawl to the 'Crown Center' shopping mall, to beg for her old job back. Provided it was still available, with the way the economy was going downhill these days.

That was the reason why, when the phone rang, she snatched it up on the very first ring, and had to actually take a couple of steadying breaths before she put the receiver to her ear. "Good morning. Thank you for calling 'Parker Real Estate Agency.' I am Sarah Miller. How may I help you?"

"Sarah Miller?" a male voice repeated back.

"Yes, Sir," Sarah nodded.

She waited for him to comment, but instead, he just continued to be pally, as if they were old friends, "See, Sarah, it is like this. I was supposed to be meeting Ms. Diana Walter at eight, to see the property at 102 South Massachusetts Avenue, but I have been waiting here for the last one hour, and I have not seen her."

"I too have not seen her this morning, either," Sarah answered, her heart starting to beat faster. Someone was interested in buying 102 South Massachusetts? And her senior colleague and competitor Diana Walter, had dropped the appointment? "Though it isn't like her to be late." Actually, Diana loved to come early for an appointment, so she could feel superior while the other person would merely be on time. "Will you be able to wait, while I try calling her?" Sarah asked the person on the phone.

Sarah's caller said he was waiting, so she put him on hold before dialing Diana's number, and when there was no response, she tried her residence. There was no answer there either. Sarah got back on the line. "Sir? I am sorry, I cannot get in touch with her. But if...that is I mean..."

Sarah's tongue tripped over itself in her eagerness to offer help. The caller did not say anything, but Sarah could sense his amusement through the line. She gritted her teeth and tried again. "If you would still like to see the place, I would be glad to come out and open the door for you...?"

Sarah held her breath. The Edwardian property, and surrounding four acres were listed for almost half a million dollars, a fairly high price for Kansas City, Missouri. The commission would pay her rent and suffice for the petrol, and food for the rest of the year, at least. 

'Are you sure you can spare the time, darling?" said the husky and low voice, with a hint of roughness that made him sound like he had just woken up from deep slumber.

Sarah assured him with utmost sincerity that there was nothing she'd rather do than be of service to him. The man on the other end chortled but did not comment. Even so, the ripeness of the chortle brought a blush to Sarah's cheeks. She ignored it, promising him she would be there in fifteen minutes. But the first thirty seconds she wasted in doing a victory march, though prematurely. She then grabbed her purse and headed towards the door. She checked out her watch, she had fourteen and a half minutes to reach from the office to the property at 102 South Massachusetts Avenue. Sarah knew she would have to keep her foot glued to the accelerator, the whole way.

Sarah kept thinking on the way. She thought about Diana Walter, the Real Estate Queen, as she preferred to think of herself. She is a short, and heavy woman, having long hair, with a big ego, and was approximately 45-yrs-old. She had disliked Sarah from the moment she had first set eyes on her. It could have probably been because Sarah was younger and thinner than Diana, or probably because Sarah had natural blonde hair, whereas she had colored her hair blonde. 

The thought of being able to put one over on her made Sarah feel warm and fuzzy as she skidded around the corner of South Massachusetts Avenue, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with a Honda Odyssey.

It took a total of twenty minutes for Sarah to reach the property. Before she could pull her orange Ford-Mustang, the safest car on the road, to a stop behind the sleek, black Harley-Davidson waiting in the circular driveway. The man straddling the seat matched the motorcycle: dark, muscular, and a little dangerous. The T-shirt that he wore, looked as if it had been painted on his body for it left little to the imagination, and also the tattoo peeking from under the right sleeve curled around his bicep was that of a cobra.

Sarah hesitated before she opened the car door. Real estate can be a scary business on occasion, Sarah thought. Those involved in it advertise their faces and phone numbers all over the town, then agree to meet total strangers who call, claiming to want to see an empty house somewhere. Often in an area that is not the best, like the one she found herself in now. Sometimes-rarely, but it happens, some of them get attacked. And there was something about this man that suggested that she ought to step carefully.

Sarah did step carefully, both because it seemed prudent and because the gravel was difficult to navigate on such high heels. "Sorry I am late. I am Sarah Miller..."

And then she stopped dead in her track when he removed the sunglasses and she met his eyes. They were dark grey in color and surrounded by long, thick, curving eyelashes. Sarah felt that there was nothing wrong with her lashes; nothing a liberal application of make-up cannot correct, at any rate- but she would have sold her soul to possess his. He could advertise mascara for Maybelline with those lashes. But that was not the only reason she was staring.

"Struck speechless by my good looks, sweetheart?" His voice was amused.

"Sorry," Sarah managed, fighting back a blush. How mortifying it was to be caught staring! "For a second there you looked familiar, but..."

"You have not forgotten me?" He grinned. White teeth flashed against golden skin, and a ghostly memory stirred, at that moment, but it subsided very soon.

"Um..." Sarah said, distracted. His grin widened wickedly.

When a few seconds passed while she didn't say anything else, he added, "Been back to St-Louis, Missouri lately?"

So he was from back home. Well, it made sense. The drawl though slow, was pure St-Louis, and he was not someone she had met recently, or she would have remembered.