Falling for Her Client: A Southern Kind of Love, #2

By Palmer Jones

SHE KNOWS WHAT SHE WANTS.

Lexi Caden loves her life. Her freedom. Her independence. She dates men on her terms. Compromise isn't in her playbook.

But Nash changes the game.

Designing Nash's country store in the small town of Statem, GA, is a straightforward project for Lexi. Several of her clients in the past were attractive men. What is it about the sexy farmer that captured her attention? It doesn't matter. Dating a client is against company policy and will result in being fired…immediately.

HE KNOWS WHAT SHE NEEDS.

Nash Holloway has his own rules in place. He'll never marry or leave Statem again. Moving to a major city and leaving his farm tainted his view of marriage. Love isn't worth it. That makes his attraction to his pretty architect easy to handle. The short-term romance is exactly what he wants.

A few dates to show his uptight, city girl a good time.

But Lexi destroys his plans.

Falling for Her Client is a lighthearted, contemporary romance, the second of six books in the A Southern Kind of Love series by Georgia native and award-winning author, Palmer Jones.

A Southern Kind of Love:

1. Hiding from the Sheriff

2. Falling for Her Client

3. Dreaming of Her Movie Star

4. Engaging with Her Enemy

5. Kissing Her Rescuer

6. Finding Her Leading Man

O'Keeley's Irish Pub Series:

1. Her Irish Boss

2. Her Irish Chef

3. Her Irish Flirt

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sweet Blooms Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Mar 12, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393670803

Palmer Jones

Palmer Jones writes fun and flirty, romantic fiction. Born and raised in the South, she loves to travel but will always call Georgia her home. With a degree in accounting, she spends part of her day immersed in numbers. The rest of the time is spent with her friends, family, and hiding away in the worlds she creates through her stories.

Book preview

1

Great. Another man couldn’t keep it in his pants, so now they all had to take additional training. Nothing but a two-hour reminder that at their architecture firm, personal and professional relationships didn’t mix. Ever. True love be damned.

Lexi Caden jogged down the hallway, grabbing onto the wall as she skidded around the corner. Her short brown curls brushed against her neck with each step as her calves burned from balancing in her high heels. Thanks to Lionel Busby and his uncontrollable urges to screw his client, she’d wasted her morning listening to her boss’s repeated warnings of what would happen. Instant firing.

All the employees at their firm lived in Atlanta. Why did Lionel pick his client knowing the consequences when there were literally thousands of single women in the city?

Didn’t matter. It was his problem to find another job without a reference. Her focus shifted from the idiot back to her tight schedule. She had ten minutes until her client arrived. Five minutes until the bidding ended. She could do it.

Running into her office, she sat down in her leather desk chair and spun around to face her computer. Shoot. She looked at her watch and then at the countdown clock on the screen beside a picture of an old, dilapidated farmhouse. She was down to three minutes before her sixty-five-thousand-dollar bid won the house. This time she wouldn’t chicken out. The past two houses that she’d bid on had slipped away in the final few moments because of her hesitation.

It wasn’t the money that had kept her from bidding higher. Her job as a commercial architect paid rather nicely, but despite her confidence in her career, she lacked the guts to go for her dream. Renovating an old farmhouse from the ground up didn’t sound like a typical dream for a thirty-four-year-old living in the city. Some women wanted a husband and kids. Others wanted a Hermès purse. Her mom had dreamed of her marrying well. The typical thing, doctor or lawyer. That was how her mom operated in life. None of those things were important. This house was her dream.

Drumming her fingers on the table, she held her breath as the timer clicked down to one minute.

No one had outbid her. Yet.

Ms. Caden, Sarah said from the doorway.

Lexi jumped up from her seat. Yes?

Mr. Holloway is here.

With a quick glance at the screen, thirty seconds left, she nodded. Okay. You can show him back to the conference room. Give her time to focus and hopefully win the house.

Sarah’s eyebrows drew together. Are you sure? I told him that you usually go over your vision in here before showing a client your sketches.

Twenty seconds.

Fine, Sarah. She looked up at her receptionist and gave her an apologetic smile for the sharp tone. Thanks for reminding me.

Ten seconds.

Good. She clasped her hands together before making a motion like a Price Is Right model. Because he’s right here.

Sarah disappeared, and Nash Holloway filled up her doorway.

She didn’t know what to expect of a cotton farmer based upon their email exchange, but he wasn’t it. Broad shoulders. A deep tan. Blue eyes that she swore matched the bluest sky she’d ever seen.

What happened to overalls and flannel? And old men? Weren’t all farmers old men? It shouldn’t matter. The way their eyes locked together and caused a barely contained shiver to race down her spine could have happened with anyone. Although it’d never happened before.

She swallowed before she drooled. Whatever he did for a living, none of the men she’d dated before filled out a suit that well.

He slid his hands into his suit pockets. I hope I’m not interrupting.

The bid. She sat down. Big red letters spelled FINAL and covered the picture of her dream.

She checked the bid history. Someone had sniped the bid away from her in the last ten seconds.

Last.

Ten.

Seconds.

She dropped her head onto the desk. Maybe her mom had been right. She should focus on her job, quit wasting her energy trying to make her dream a reality.

I can come back later…

Lexi let out a slow breath. She’d hoped that’d been the house. It would’ve made commuting into Atlanta for work a longer drive, close to an hour and a half, but it would be worth it. No matter what her mom thought. And her boss? Well, if his employees followed his rules and got the job done, he wouldn’t have cared.

Ms. Caden? She’d almost forgotten he stood at her door. Nash stepped into her office, both hands propped on the back of the chair across from her. You look as though someone just ran over your cat, he said with a smooth, Southern accent.

I don’t have a cat, she mumbled.

He half laughed. Kicked your dog, maybe?

She mentally kicked herself. The client deserved all her attention, her professional attention. It wasn’t like she was eight again and didn’t get the Barbie Dream House from Santa. I’m sorry. It was nothing. She stood and held out her hand. Nice to meet you, Mr. Holloway.

His smile scrambled her thoughts. Call me, Nash. In two long steps, he took her hand, rough callouses reminding her that he shouldn’t look this good in a suit. Overalls. Picture him in overalls.

She took a deep breath, his cologne a woodsy scent. With a long, slow exhale, she belatedly realized that she should have included a shirt in that mental image of overalls.

He leaned closer, concern evident. You looked a little out of sorts.

I’ll be fine. Until her knees gave way if he held her hand much longer. Ridiculous. She could meet an attractive man and keep it platonic.

I might be able to help if you let me know what’s wrong. I can’t find a solution if I don’t know the problem.

Why did men always try to fix the situation? She could fix it herself. She dropped his hand. I’m afraid there’s no solution you can offer. She shifted around him and headed out of her office that had suddenly grown overly warm. She’d start this meeting in the conference room and give them a little more space. Really, it’s not that important. Let’s go to the conference room. I have some pictures set up.

Oddly aware that he was right behind her, she focused straight down the long hallway, one side almost entirely made up of windows. Nash couldn’t offer her a solution unless he had a farmhouse in his back pocket and an extra architect to work Lionel’s abandoned jobs. Not that she needed a man’s help, anyway.

This is a nice office. Nash paused by one of the windows. I have to admit, I’ve never wondered what Atlanta looks like from forty-three floors up. He whistled low. And that’s a long way down.

Taking two steps back, she looked at the view of the city and then at his profile. Scared of heights?

He rolled his shoulders, looking a little uncomfortable in his suit. Nothing that I’d admit to.

Something about his answer made her smile. Follow me. Lexi walked into the conference room and around the long table to the three large boards, each displaying a different variation of the store. She might feel unsure when it came to the farmhouse but designing spaces like Nash’s came second nature now. I tried to use what you described in the email and the examples of other country stores you sent me to come up with a rough sketch. I appreciated the photos of the property, but I’ll have to come down and get a firsthand view of the land before I can finalize the plans—

These are great, Ms. Caden.

I’m glad you like them. Please, call me Lexi. So, she said, pointing at the first board, this one is the size you described. She went through all the technical specs of her designs one by one, explaining her thoughts and views, giving a couple of suggestions about outside space.

Nash nodded but was otherwise quiet. She thought she’d caught him watching her instead of where she pointed on the board. Or else she’d looked at him long enough for him to notice her staring. Either way, the two or three times he gave her undivided attention, she lost her train of thought. That had never happened before.

She finally managed to get through the entire explanation with a little less finesse than usual. She’d dated a few men who were white in the past, but none like Nash who watched her with such intensity. And never a client. That made him off-limits. The end.

What do you think?

They’re all very nice. He ran a hand over his chin. I think you’re right, though. You’ll need to come down to see the land. I’ve changed the location.

Lexi rested her hip against the conference room table. Some clients could be very picky, constantly changing or adding things to the design up until the very end. She hadn’t expected her overalls-wearing, old farmer to be one of them.

I also want to add a small version of a cotton gin on the back.

A cotton gin? In the store? Didn’t Eli Whitney invent that? That takes the seeds out of cotton, right?

He seemed to sense her confusion. When you come down to look at the land, I’ll give you a tour of the gin, so you can get an idea of the space.

Why do you want a cotton gin?

He looked at the drawing again before turning those blue eyes her direction. I want an exhibition demonstrating cotton from seed to shirt. Between the tours and selling local produce, we’re hoping to help our local farmers by drawing in business off I-75.

What do you get out of it?

The town?

No. You.

Nash shrugged. Pride, I suppose.

She motioned to the boards. This seems like a lot of money and time to put on the line for pride.

Lexi, he said, her name sounding different with his accent. When you stand in front of something you’ve created, how do you feel about it?

It was the moment she enjoyed the best of all. Pride.

Right. Some people in this life see dollar signs. We don’t. Most farmers don’t. They have pride in what they do.

Did you just call me a farmer?

Despite the social stigma, there are worse things to be called.

She laughed. A sexy farmer with a sense of humor. The shirtless overalls picture popped into her mind unannounced.

She cleared her throat. Then I suppose I will need a tour.

What are you doing tomorrow? He sat one hip on the edge of the table with his phone opened to his calendar, mirroring her position. His eyes flicked up to meet hers. I’m free all day.

Why did that sound like a dare? She crossed her arms, needing every defense against him. I guess I’m coming to see how you make cotton.

His lips twisted into a half-smile that was lethal. I look forward to it.

Lexi? Charlie poked his head into the conference room. Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you still had a client. He entered the room as though he owned the entire building. This must be the farmer you mentioned coming in. I’m Charlie Roberts.

She groaned at the sarcastic way he said, farmer. Like it put Nash at a level below him. Setting a hand on Nash’s arm, refusing to let herself squeeze his bicep. It was like Olive Oil holding onto Popeye. This is—

Nash Holloway, Nash said before she could finish. He reached out to shake Charlie’s hand. At the last second, Lexi dropped her hand instead of holding onto his arm like some Southern belle at a ball. We were finishing up our meeting.

That was right. Charlie’s perfect timing reminded her that Nash was a client. Which meant he was off-limits. So were his biceps.

Great. Lexi and I can get a head start on our lunch date. Squeeze in a full two hours so I can convince her to go to dinner with me. Charlie set his arm around Lexi’s shoulders. He tugged her close, giving her a full preview of what her skinny accountant lunch date had underneath that suit. I’ve waited two years for her to say ‘yes’ to a date with me. I don’t think she’ll be disappointed.

Nash crossed his arms, those biceps straining against his jacket as he appeared either irritated or amused. She managed to extract herself. Pretending to be in a rush, she grimaced toward Charlie. I didn’t forget but give us a few minutes. Julien had everyone in a meeting this morning, and my schedule’s been rearranged.

We can finish tomorrow, Lexi. Nash ambled to the door, pausing at the exit. His stare held hers longer than necessary. God, that look was one step short of a tractor beam pulling her in. I think Charlie may need the extra time.

He left her staring at an empty doorway, her mouth slightly open. He was a cocky man, that was for sure. Why did it make her even more attracted to him?

She needed to get her mind straight before she saw him tomorrow. Charlie, your tie is crooked.

Charlie immediately adjusted it, his smile just as lopsided. That was the first thing you ever said to me on the elevator.

I think I say that to you every time we see each other. How did a man have a perpetually crooked tie? Let me go back to my office and make some notes about my meeting. I’ll grab my purse and meet you downstairs in the lobby.

Shaking his head, he walked out of the conference room ahead of her. You promised me you’d go to lunch three months ago, and something always got in the way. I’m not letting you sneak away. I can wait while you make your notes.

Since making notes was code for trying to calm her heart rate down after meeting Nash Holloway, the need to stop at her office had disappeared. She’d agreed to go on a date because Charlie was interesting and cute in a nerdy sort of way. She’d analyzed him with her friends, trying to decide. That was before today. Now she knew what being hit with a thunderbolt of lightning felt like.

Charlie deserved more than her mind on shirtless farmers. He was a nice guy and on the Julien Approved list of men that wouldn’t get her fired.

I’ll write my notes later. Let’s go on to lunch.

---

Nash rode his ATV across the dusty field toward his mom’s house. The hot, Georgia wind blew past him but not cooling him off. Working on his dad’s tractor had always settled him since he’d come back home from Jacksonville after his divorce.

After his dad had died.

He pushed the painful memory to the corner of his mind where it belonged. He was back now and wouldn’t leave again. Especially not for a woman. He belonged to the farm and, soon, the country store he’d build, letting at least one of his dreams come to life.

He’d thought about telling Lexi to meet him at his house. Wouldn’t make the best first impression on someone that high class. On the outside, the old farmhouse his grandmother left him looked like it might fall with a stiff wind. It was sound but other than the essentials, he’d not had much time to fix it up.

As he approached his mom’s house, a shiny blue sedan sat parked in front. Anyone pedaling goods for a worthy cause hit the jackpot with his mom. She could not say, no, to kids. She’d already pushed the two dozen tubes of wrapping paper she’d purchased from the 4-H kids off on him.

He stepped up onto the front porch, two female voices carrying out of the screen door. Didn’t sound like a salesman. Nash looked back at the car. Someone in town might’ve gotten a new car.

Hello. Lexi appeared at the screen door, pushing it open slowly.

Nash swallowed. She was here. In his mom’s house. And like before, her soft brown eyes threatened to pull him under. He blinked to clear his daze. Hi. You’re early.

A worry line appeared between her eyebrows. Stupid. That wouldn’t earn him any points. Probably not something Charlie would’ve said. But, then again, Charlie admitted he needed a little extra time to charm Lexi into dinner.

Sorry, I didn’t want traffic to make me late—

No, he said, moving a little closer before stepping away. She’d end up with red dirt and tractor grease all over her. I didn’t mean it that way. He motioned to his shirt. I’d hoped to clean up first. I’ve been out in the field fixing the tractor.

Nash, is that you? His mom asked from the living room with a polite voice, like she spoke sweetly to him all the time. Not likely.

Lexi stepped back inside, watching him the way he watched her. Did she feel the attraction between them? He’d not felt real attraction toward another woman since before his divorce.

I’ve had a wonderful chat with Ms. Caden, his mom said. She sat perched on the edge of an old winged-back chair looking like a typical old lady in her pastel pink sweater and house slippers. But underneath was a matchmaking, poker-loving woman, pretending to keep herself uninvolved but sticking her loving nose into his business every chance she had.

Please, call me Lexi. Lexi caught her lower lip between her teeth. Will it mess up your day if we go ahead and look at the property? I want to have plenty of time to adjust my designs if you still want us to break ground within four weeks. I like to look at the landscape to make sure the design will flow.

He’d wanted to change his clothes. Take a shower. Appear like something a little better than a filthy farmhand. He didn’t know why it bothered him. He and Lexi’s business relationship wouldn’t dictate that he dressed in his Sunday best every day.

Son, Lexi asked you a question. His mom’s eyes were bright and scheming. She wanted him married again and settled down. Kids. He wasn’t beyond casually dating a woman, but another marriage was out of the question. Been there, done that. It’d taken him from his family once, and he wouldn’t risk having to make that choice ever again.

Let me change my shirt, and then we can go. He hustled down the hallway to where he’d stored his clothes earlier. After a fast, cold shower, he reappeared, both feeling and smelling a little better.

Now that he’d met Lexi, he didn’t want her viewing him as a small-town hick with an unachievable dream. He didn’t want to be lumped in with a businessman like Charlie, either. He damn sure wouldn’t need Charlie’s extra time to make a move if he had the gumption to make one.

I can follow you there. She stepped onto the narrow front porch.

Let me drive. We can swing by the cotton gin for a tour before you head out.

Lexi looked toward his blue work truck. Well, it was blue once it was washed. His nice truck stayed parked in his driveway, away from the dirt and dings that came along with riding through cotton fields.

Okay. Her hesitation didn’t offend him.

As they walked to the truck, he adjusted his gait so that he matched hers. "Did you find a solution to whatever upset