Love Contract (The Match Broker) (4 page)

Unable to help herself, Milán laughed. “Why do you always compare men’s attributes to some kind of sweets?”

“I don’t know. I just love desserts. It’s my second favorite pastime.”

“Men being the first,” her sister replied.

“Yes, now speaking of which—”

“Fine,” Milán interrupted. “Yes, he’s good-looking. Very—and he knows it which is a definite turnoff, second only to his overbearing personality. His skin was like...desert sand at sunset. His eyes were like Oloroso sherry. A warm, vibrant brown that was very expressive.” Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered their ill-advised encounter. “His body was...firm in all the right places. There’s no doubt he works out often. And...he tasted like...hazelnut coffee.”

Nyah snorted. “Hazelnut coffee? Didn’t pay attention, huh?”

Milán frowned against the phone. “It wasn’t like that. I can appreciate the physical attributes, while disliking his arrogant nature and superiority complex. Trust me there was nothing impressive about that.”

Worked up just remembering Adrian’s behavior, Milán went back to cleaning. The scrubbing continued, but this time on a quieter scale.

“
¿Oye, puedes aguantar esperar? Tengo otra llamada telefónica
.” Milán clicked over when she heard a beep. “Hello?”

Silence ensued. “Hello?” Milán repeated. When nobody spoke up, she clicked back to her sister. “
Lo siento
.”

“
¿Quién era lo?
”

“
No sé
.”

The line beeped again.

“
Un momento
,” she said to her sister as she clicked to the second line.“Hello? I can hear you breathing, you know,” she told her caller. “Fine,” she snapped and returned to her sister.

After another few minutes, her line beeped again.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Milán complained.

“
Hablarémos después
,” Nyah replied and hung up.

“Look, I don’t know who taught you phone etiquette, but—”

“Miss Dixon, wait. Don’t hang up. This is—”

Milán’s expression darkened upon recognizing the voice. “I know who it is,” she said coldly. “Your rudeness is becoming legendary.”

“I’m sorry about that. My battery was going dead on my phone so I switched.”

“I see.” Her voice was laced with skepticism. “So how did you get my number?”

“Your résumé.”

She grunted in response.

“I’d like to speak with you, if now is a good time?”

A long bout of silence ensued.

“Just a few minutes,” he persisted. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Milán leaned against the kitchen counter. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mr. Anderson.”

“Why not? Are you afraid to talk to me?”

“Ha,” she laughed in his ear. “Nice try, but I don’t rise to bait that easily.”

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to call me Adrian, would you?”

“No.”

“Fair enough. The reason I’m calling, Miss Dixon... What is that?”

“What is what?”

“That noise?”

Frowning, Milán stopped scrubbing the inside of her refrigerator. “Nothing.” She closed the door as quietly as she could, and then set the cleaning supplies down. She moved to the far side of the room. “You were saying?”

“Anyway, what I called to say is that I wanted to...apologize...for my...behavior earlier today. It was uncalled for and I was wrong to jump to conclusions like that. I’d like to make it up to you.”

“You don’t do that very often, do you?”

“What?”

“Apologize.”

“No.”

Despite herself, Milán’s lips curved into a smile.
At least he was honest. Boorish, but honest.

“So am I forgiven?”

Her eyes widened. “Hardly. You kissed me—without my consent.”

“I know. I was out of line.”

“You think?” she snapped. “Besides, your apology didn’t sound genuine. Try again.”

“Fine, it would appear my heartfelt sincerity—”

She couldn’t help the snort that escaped her lips. “Heartfelt?”

“Sincerity,” he continued, “isn’t enough for you. So tell me how I can make amends?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure. Apparently you’re used to getting your own way—even when you’re wrong.”

“That’s hardly a fair assessment,” he countered.

“According to whom?”

“Okay, Adrian Anderson apology—take two. Miss Dixon, I got caught up in my own personal issues earlier and took my frustrations out on you. It was rude, unprofessional and I apologize.”

Milán peeled her rubber gloves off one at a time. “Yes, it was.”

“So, am I forgiven?”

“No, you’re not.”

“Will you come back for a proper interview?”

“I don’t think so, but I appreciate the phone call.”

“Wait,” Adrian said, quickly. “I really think we should meet face-to-face to discuss this.”

“Not a snowball’s chance, Mr. Anderson, but if I change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.” She hung up.
Serves him right.
Sliding her gloves back on, Milán grabbed her sponge and returned to scrubbing the hell out of her kitchen.

* * *

“Well, that went well,” Adrian groused. He put his phone down and headed into the kitchen. Practically ripping the door off its hinges, he bent over to scan the contents of his fridge. Grabbing a beer, and a mound of other things, he pushed the door shut with his leg and set his bounty on his granite island.

“What’s for lunch?”

Adrian glanced up to see his best friend walk into the room. He scowled. “I don’t remember hearing the doorbell.”

“When have you ever heard the doorbell?” Justin Langley washed and dried his hands. He walked over to a nearby cabinet and retrieved a small plate before sidling up to the counter to fix himself a sandwich.

“Back in the day, people got shot for less.”

“We’re not out on the range or in a saloon,” Justin countered not the least bit intimidated by his friend’s foul mood. “So I think I’m safe.”

With a flick of his wrist, Adrian popped the top off his bottle and took a long pull on his beer. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

“So, who pissed you off?”

“Long story,” Adrian groused.

Justin pulled up a bar stool and sat down. “I’m all ears.”

Chapter 4

A
drian stared at the metal locker in front of him. This was not exactly the afternoon he had in mind. He wanted to enact his plan to get Milán to agree to his job offer, not stand in his gym for a weekly basketball game with Justin.

He’d called Milán several times over the past few days, but after the first two messages Adrian decided against leaving others. At that point it was obvious she wasn’t planning to call back, and he didn’t chase after anybody.

In truth, Adrian was annoyed he couldn’t convince her that Anderson Realty would be a great match for her. When he’d casually asked his mother about Milán, Norma Jean sweetly informed him that she was not keeping tabs on the woman.
A lot of help she’d been,
Adrian complained to himself. Any other time his mother would’ve had Milán’s GPS coordinates mapped out with her next destination already calculated. Now all of a sudden she was tight-lipped and didn’t want to interfere?

He had to admit that Milán was on his mind for nonwork-related reasons, too. At the most inconvenient times, he’d think about what happened in his office. His body would stir each time he recalled the feel of her body pressed against him, or the warmth of her full lips as they brushed against his own. She may not have wanted the kiss, but there were moments when he was sure she’d been participating. He tossed that thought aside. Maybe that was wishful thinking on his part. She had punched him after their kiss had ended, so clearly it wasn’t that memorable on her end. Still, that brief encounter with Milán had intrigued him more than any of the last few he’d had with women.

“Hey, did you just get here? You aren’t even changed.”

Adrian spotted Justin walking toward him. He retrieved his clothes from out of his bag. “No. Just preoccupied.” He nodded at Justin before he stripped out of his work clothes and changed into his basketball gear. “What’s up with you?”

“Same old, same old,” Justin replied while getting dressed. “How are things with Senorita Dixon?”

“How would I know? I haven’t spoken to her since the day we met.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“At the moment nothing, so drop it.”

“Fair enough,” Justin replied. “So, what’s the latest with the Love Broker? The guys think she’ll have you fixed up again by summer.”

“Not gonna happen.”

They walked toward their reserved court. Adrian set his towel and water bottle on a bench. “She has officially stopped butting into my love life.”

Justin looked skeptical. “Since when?”

They walked to the top of the key and got in position. Adrian bounced the ball so that Justin could check him.

“Since she and I had it out and called a truce.” He did a spin move around Justin and threw up a bank shot. “There’s been no more interfering. She hasn’t tried to fix me up since Cynthia.”

Justin caught the ball under the net and they switched places. “The Cyber Stalker, right? Come on, man, do you honestly think your mom is going to give up trying to get you married?” Justin dodged past him. “She’s just lulling you into thinking she’s changed. She’ll wait till you least expect it and then, bam!” He slam-dunked the ball for effect. “Blind date.”

Adrian took the ball. Justin checked him and Adrian shot past him and hit a fadeaway. He let out a loud whoop and pointed to the basket. Justin rolled his eyes.

“Dating can wait.” Adrian walked over to the bench to get his water. “I’ve got to convince Milán to join the firm.”

“I thought you’d let that go?”

“You know I don’t take no for an answer...at least not for long.”

“Good to know. I’ll be sure and tell Dent-in-her-grill Donna. She’d be thrilled to hear you’ve changed your mind.”

Adrian let out a loud chuckle. “About wanting her? Hell will turn into a lovely condo community first.”

“There are thousands of interior designers in Chicago,” Justin reasoned. “What makes her so special?”

“Beats me,” Adrian countered. Just then his mind conjured up an image of her locked in his embrace. He wiped his face with his towel. “Just an instinct that tells me she’s the one I want.”

Justin regarded his friend closely. “For the company or something personal?”

“Strictly work,” Adrian specified.

“You sure?”

Adrian bent down to retrieve the ball. “Dude, I have enough stuff going on right now without entanglements of the feminine persuasion.”

“By the time the Love Broker gets done with you, you won’t know what hit you.”

Frowning, Adrian rubbed the sweat off his face and neck with the front of his jersey. “I’m telling you, Mom said there were no ulterior motives and I believe her. Besides, I’ve got the perfect plan to get what I want.”

Justin stared at him. “What plan?”

“Dad was complaining about all the cleaning Mom has him doing. You know, how it’s interfering with his TV shows. He let it slip that Milán’s coming over for dinner this Saturday.”

“Why?”

“Because Mom’s taken a liking to her, plus she’s new in town. It’s the perfect way to get some face time in and convince her to work for me.”

“You think she will? You already blew the first hookup.”

“It wasn’t a hook up,” Adrian shot back.

“Oh, right,” Justin laughed. “More like a setup.”

Adrian glared. “It’ll look like a chance meeting. We’ll clear the air and I’ll convince her that Anderson Realty is the logical choice.”

Deciding to call it quits, they retrieved their stuff and headed to the locker room.

“I hope things work out according to plan.”

Adrian fell into step beside his friend. “Of course it will. I came up with it.”

Justin’s expression was skeptical. “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

* * *

Three days later, Milán was driving down a tree-lined street checking house numbers as she went by. She smiled when she saw one house had an array of garden gnomes displayed across the grass. For some reason just seeing the miniature ceramic people as decorative art always made her giggle.

When she spotted the house, Milán eased her car into a vacant space at the curb. Her practiced eye roamed appreciatively over the inviting home. She parked, grabbed her purse and climbed out of the car.

She took a bag from the backseat and walked confidently toward the front door. Balancing the items in her hand, Milán rang the doorbell.

Seconds later, the door opened and a tall man smiled at her. “Hello, you must be Milán.”

“Hello, Mr. Anderson.” She held out a brightly colored bag.

He took the proffered gift and stood aside to let her enter. “Thanks and welcome.”

“Cliff,” she heard Norma Jean yell at the top of her lungs. “Will you get the darn door?” Milán stifled a laugh.

“You should hear her sing,” he joked. “Here, let me take that for you.”

Milán eased out of her cardigan. Her gaze traveled around the foyer as she stood there. She noted the polished wood floor, creamy yellow walls and the profusion of plants. From what she could see, the historic bungalow-styled house was spacious and bright. “You have a lovely home.”

“Thank you. Now let’s go find my beautiful siren.”

Milán followed behind him to the kitchen. She watched him poke his head through the door. “What happened to ‘honey’?” he said, sweetly.

His wife didn’t bother to look up from her task. “That’s when you answer the door the first time I ask you. Now will you get it before our guest decides to go next door for dinner?”

“No need, I caught her before she went over there,” he teased.

His wife turned around. When she spotted Milán, she wrinkled her nose at her husband. “You’re incorrigible.” Norma Jean walked quickly to the doorway and hugged the younger woman tightly. “How are you, Milán?”

“I’ve been better, but I’m hanging in there.”

“Job search going slow?”

“Yes, but I’m hopeful something will turn up soon. Thanks for inviting me to dinner, Norma Jean. It was just what I needed. I’ve been so intent on sending out résumés lately that I’m starting to feel like a bona fide hermit.”

“We’re happy you could make it, and don’t worry. I just know you’ll be getting a callback soon. You just have to stay positive.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Come in and make yourself comfortable. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Heathcliffe handed his wife Milán’s present. Norma Jean peeked into the bag and squealed with delight.

“Banana pudding,” she exclaimed. “Thanks so much for bringing it.”

“My pleasure. It’s one of my favorites, too.”

She watched Norma Jean place the dessert in the refrigerator.

“Dinner smells delicious.”

“Honey, let’s hope it tastes that way,” Norma Jean chuckled.

After putting the finishing touches on her signature mashed potatoes, and sautéed whole green beans, Norma Jean opened the oven door to check on her beef roast. “Just a few more minutes,” she informed the lucky roast.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“No, thanks. You just relax. So, how are you liking Chicago? Are you settled in?”

“It’s fantastic. I’m renting a loft on West Aldine. I love the exposed brick walls and timber ceilings. Still getting used to the weather, though.”

“Lofts are pretty popular,” Heathcliffe interjected. “I prefer a place with walls that actually go up to the ceiling.”

Norma Jean stirred her gravy and then tasted it. “I agree with Cliff, but being a designer, I’m sure you’ve already put your personal touches on it.”

“Just about.” Milán laughed. “Jeanie, are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”

“Not at all, honey. You make yourself comfortable.”

“May I use your restroom?”

“Sure.” Norma Jean turned to her husband. “Cliff, would you mind?”

“Not at all.” He ushered Milán down the hall to the powder room.

On the way back, the family room window caught her attention. Walking over, Milán peeked into the backyard. Flowers in an array of vibrant colors were everywhere. Suddenly, Adrian popped into her head. Milán’s expression mirrored her confusion.
I just don’t get it,
she told herself.
How can two wonderful people like Norma Jean and her husband have such an obnoxious son?

“That’s a mystery,” she said quietly. She shook her head in disgust. “Thank God I don’t have to deal with him anymore.”

On cue, Adrian’s face manifested before her. Not the irate-looking Adrian, but the one that had kissed her senseless; the one whose eyes were alive with desire, whose body was smooth and hard like granite. The one that ran his thumb over her lips after he’d practically branded her with his own.
Stop it,
she scolded herself. He’s a playboy that delights in wrapping women around his finger.

“Well that won’t ever be me,” she vowed. Disturbed, Milán pushed thoughts of Adrian aside. She was about to head back to her hosts when the sound of a loud crash followed by a commotion drifted down the hallway

Milán rushed into the kitchen. “Is everything okay?” she said quickly. “I...I heard a crash.”

“I’m sorry, dear.” Norma Jean’s cheeks turned a faint red. “I was startled and dropped a dish. I’m fine.”

“Hello, Miss Dixon.”

Milán whirled around to see Adrian standing near his father.

“What are you doing here?” she blurted out.

Before he could reply, his mother spoke up.

“It would appear my son will be joining us for dinner. Oddly enough considering today is Saturday—and not Thursday.” She smiled serenely in his direction.

“Yes, that’s true.” Adrian returned his mother’s wide smile. “I usually come for dinner on Thursdays.”

“Good to see you no matter what day it is,” his father chimed in.

“Thanks, Dad.”

He turned toward Milán. “Imagine my surprise at finding you here.” Adrian closed the distance between them. When he leaned in, his voice was a taunting whisper. “And look...it’s not even snowing.”

Surprise was evident in Milán’s wide-eyed stare. She was silent so long, Adrian’s parents turned in their direction.

“Milán? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she said, quickly. “I’m fine, Jeanie. I just...didn’t...” She turned a baffled expression toward Adrian. “I didn’t expect to see you again, much less so soon.”

“I have a habit of popping up where I’m least expected.”

“That’s an understatement,” Norma Jean shot back.

“You’re right about one thing, Mr. Anderson.”

“Really? What would that be, Miss Dixon?”

A tempered expression crossed her face. Milán stepped forward to speak in a voice only he could hear. “There are no snowballs to be found. What a pity.”