There are no deals when it comes to love…

The charismatic force behind one of Chicago’s leading real-estate companies, Adrian Anderson leads a charmed life. With his pick of the town’s most eligible women, the last thing the sought-after bachelor needs is another set-up. Until Milán Dixon walks into his office. Sent by his persistent mother, the fiery, outspoken beauty is tempting Adrian to give matchmaking one last chance.

Milán came to Anderson Realty for a business opportunity, not to meet the most arrogant, egotistical…irresistible man ever. Giving in to her desire for Adrian could be the biggest mistake she’s ever made. But if it’s so wrong for them to be together why does their passion feel so right?

Adrian is determined to prove to Milán that he’s her perfect match…until a shocking discovery threatens his business and their future together. Will love seal the deal or break both their hearts?

He leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms in front of his chest. The smile he wore conveyed his admiration.

“Interesting. Smart, fiery, yet still able to retain your composure in tense situations. I’m truly impressed. I must say, my mother really outdid herself. Do me a favor…the next time you see Norma Jean, and she asks how her ingenious plan went, tell her this for me.” His arms snaked out and yanked Milán to him. He held her in an unyielding embrace as his lips clamped down on hers.

He felt Milán try to wrench herself free, but she was no match against his strength, or his irritation. He would teach his mother a lesson once and for all, and if he had to use her latest protégé to ram that point home so be it. With adept movements, Adrian slid one of his hands up and into her hair at the base of her neck to hold her steady. His other arm moved to encircle her back. He leaned over her, tilting her body backward in order to deepen the kiss. Time slowed and then screeched to a halt as he continued the onslaught on Milán’s mouth with deft precision.

The kiss ended unhurriedly. He took his time unlocking his lips from hers. Unable to help himself, he gave one final nibble to her bottom lip before moving his hand to her face. She tasted like nectarines. His thumb that caressed the swollen flesh was slightly unsteady. “Tell my mother I said ‘nice try,’” he spoke in a voice thick with emotion, “and Lord knows I do mean nice.”

Lisa Watson

is a native of Washington, D.C. Her romantic imagination is fed by the city’s historic and political backdrop. Her hobbies are as eclectic as her music collection, but what Lisa loves the most is writing strong, positive characters that are memorable to the reader and fun. Lisa is enamored with scenic beauty, and the picturesque locales she visits always seem to find a way into her latest novels. An asset-management analyst, Lisa is a subcontractor to ATF (Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives), and the copublicist for the RT Book Reviews annual RT Booklovers Conventions. She helps promote the bestselling national and international authors that attend the conference via local media outlets. Lisa has been married for sixteen years and lives in the Raleigh, North Carolina area, with her husband, two teenagers and Maltipoo, Brinkley.

Want to connect with Lisa? Contact her at lywatson007@hotmail.com, on Facebook (NCLisaWatson) or Twitter (@lywatson007).

Love Contract

Lisa Watson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

What fun I had creating the characters in this novel! Beforehand, I imagined the confusion and humor that could arise from a mother’s matchmaking plans gone awry. Norma Jean Anderson’s son, Adrian, is livid at her scheme to set him up on yet another blind date. But, when he first lays eyes on the smart and fiery Milán Dixon, their chemistry is explosive. I wanted them each to leave an indelible impression on the other, but for totally different reasons. Milán sees a missed job opportunity. Adrian sees red! His ex-fiancée’s infidelity makes him resist giving his heart away again, much to his mother’s dismay.

I hope you enjoy reading my debut Harlequin Kimani Romance. I’ll be working on the next story in The Match Broker series soon, so stay tuned to see who Norma Jean will match up next!

Be inspired….

Lisa

For Leslie Esdaile Banks, my literary friend,

and sister “Glamazon.” Thanks for the laughs, sage advice

and friendship. Rest in peace.

Thanks to Kimberly Weeter of Kimberlys-Kreations.com. One of my best friends, and real-life staging and

interior design expert.

To LBJM—Thanks for always making me laugh.

To Halden Lopez-Llizo for making sure I got my thoughts right—in Spanish!

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 1

Adrian Anderson surveyed the array of suits in his walk-in closet. With a critical eye, he chose a dark gray Armani with a double-breasted jacket. His selection included a crisp white shirt and patterned silk tie. He was picking out shoes when his telephone rang. He padded across the floor of his master suite and checked his phone. Mom. Sighing, he tried his best to channel what little patience he had left as he picked up his cell phone. “Good morning, Mother,” he said as upbeat as he could manage.

“I said I was sorry,” she began without preamble. “How long do you plan on staying annoyed with me?”

“That would depend. How long do you plan on fixing me up with mental patients?”

“Sweetheart, I know you’re upset, but there’s no way I could’ve known she was in therapy.”

“Mom, please. Therapy I can handle, but this chick called her doctor all through dinner. Do you know how weird that was?”

“Adrian, don’t dramatize it,” his mother admonished.

“You weren’t there.” Adrian sighed. “Let’s not go over this again, okay? You pleaded your case last night—several times I might add. When are you going to get the point and stop matchmaking?”

“When you find the right woman and settle down,” his mother huffed. “Which would be sooner than later if you wouldn’t fight me at every turn.”

Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose. His mother was driving him as crazy as his date, Cynthia. He’d dubbed her the Cyber Stalker. She’d called his cell phone and left numerous texts since their disastrous date.

It was always the same. Any date orchestrated by Norma Jean Anderson—also known as the Love Broker by all his close friends—ended in disaster.

Each time he got wrangled into one of his mother’s hookups, he would add the woman to his contact list. If the date ended badly, the woman in question would get a nickname that easily stood out on his phone. This trick ensured he didn’t answer a call by mistake. So far, this system worked like a charm. Now, if he could get his mother to find another hobby.

“Mom, you’ve been at this longer than I’ve been in business.”

“And look how successful that’s been. You’re doing well for yourself, honey. Business is thriving, you’re a pillar to the community, handsome and smart. All you need is a wife to share your life with.”

He ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. “The last trip I almost made down the aisle didn’t turn out too well, remember?”

There was a short pause before his mother said, “I know, honey, but you can’t let the indiscretions of one woman ruin your chance for a happy life.”

“Indiscretions? You’re being much nicer than that gold digger deserved. She slept her way through half of my friends, and almost had me saddled to her unfaithful butt for the rest of my life. Luckily for me, I interrupted that last romp before she became a married woman. So now I’ve got an ex-fiancée and ex-friends. Trust me, I’m better off not giving another woman a chance to break my heart and wreck my bank account.”

“Adrian, I know she hurt you. Believe me, I get it. But that was over a year ago. If you let that woman scar you for life, she wins. It’s time you got back in the saddle again. Stop going through women like you do dress shirts and let me find you one that will love you unconditionally.”

“Tell me again what’s natural about this? I’m a grown man whose mother is trying to control his love life.”

“Adrian, if I wait for you, I’ll drop dead before I get to see you become a father.”

He sighed into the phone. “You’ll be a grandmother—one day. Until then, my life is fine the way it is so please humor me and butt out,” he said with a chuckle.

“I’ll butt out when you say, ‘I do,’” his mother replied with humor. “We’ll discuss this later. Your dad’s taking me to breakfast so I’ve got to run.”

“Mom...”

“Have a great day, honey,” Norma Jean said quickly and hung up.

Adrian set the phone down. When his day started with a disagreement with his mother, it only got progressively worse; and recalling how the love of his life had duped him days before they were to marry hadn’t helped his mood.

“Great,” he muttered. Ripping the damp towel from his middle, he tossed it in the general direction of his clothes basket.

With angry strides, he headed toward the bathroom as if he were on his way into battle instead of work.

* * *

Turning in front of the mirror, Milán Dixon decided she liked the finished product. The navy blue suit was one of her favorites and it never failed to boost her confidence. A neutral blouse, classic diamond earrings and navy pumps completed the ensemble.

“You’ll knock him dead,” she said to her reflection before winking at herself. After eight weeks and so many job interviews she had lost count, Milán was more than ready for the tide to turn. Her decision to start fresh in a new city had come as a shock to her close-knit family, but she was adamant on leaving Miami. Thanks to her now ex-boyfriend, Eduardo Vega, Milán was left with a lot of bad memories and the debt to go with it.

Finding out that the beach house, antique cars and money he had flashed were just a facade was the worst day of her life. Eduardo’s latest real estate plan of buying homes with his investment partner and flipping them had tanked right along with the market. Then she had found out that his investment partner had been his overindulgent father. Thanks to a sobering conversation with Senor Vega, Milán had discovered that the man she had loved and trusted was a liar, and that his father was pulling the plug on financing his son’s ill-considered pursuits.

Two weeks later, Vega’s lawyer had phoned Milán to let her know that Eduardo was cut off and on his own. The only things his father’s money had not paid for were the furnishings she had purchased to decorate their new home and a few of their joint credit cards.

When Eduardo had come home that night, she was more than ready for him. Armed with the newly discovered facts, Milán had baited him into talking about the sweet deals he had in the pipeline, and how wonderful their life together was going to be. When she could stand it no more, she had blindsided him with his father’s confessions. At first he had attempted to deny and explain them away, but eventually he had become angry and accused her of breaking his trust.

Milán had shot back that he should be happy she wasn’t breaking his nose. As if on cue, her family had arrived. Her mother, Pia Aragon Dixon, had circled Eduardo like a lioness ready to defend her cub. Her father, Vincent, and sisters Nyah and Elena had been close behind. Seeing that he was outnumbered, Eduardo had told her she wasn’t worth this and walked out. That was the last time she’d seen him.

Humiliated and now homeless, Milán had decided to get as far away from her heartbreak as possible. She had packed up everything she owned, settled the joint accounts she had shared with Eduardo and found a rental home in Chicago. With a modest nest egg in her savings account, and the last two paychecks from her job, Milán had tearfully bid her family goodbye. With promises that she would check in regularly, Milán had gotten into her loaded-down car and hit the road.

It had been a whirlwind of activity ever since. Arriving at her new home, a vintage loft apartment in the heart of Chicago’s Lakeview neighborhood, Milán dove into decorating her new place and making it her own. The hard work soothed her frazzled nerves and broken heart. She could mourn her failed relationship with Eduardo later. Right now she wanted to concentrate on finding a job, learning her way around Chi-Town and paying off the rest of what she owed their creditors.

* * *

It took a few weeks, but Milán was finally acclimated to her environment. She still hadn’t received any job offers, but she remained hopeful. Though she had not met many people, the ones she had become acquainted with were great. While at a church function with a neighbor, she had met Norma Jean Anderson and immediately connected with the older woman. Meeting Norma Jean seemed like the answer to her prayers. Just listening to her gush about her real estate mogul of a son, Adrian, was a step in the right direction. With him looking for an interior designer and stager to compliment his agency, and Milán in need of a job, Norma Jean assured her that working there would be the perfect match.

It sounded exciting enough, and Milán was eager to start work. Some of the prospects had been hopeful and she’d received a few callbacks, but so far nothing had panned out.

Sweeping all the younger woman’s concerns aside, Norma Jean had promised to arrange a meeting for her with Adrian. Milán got caught up in her new friend’s excitement. She was confident all would work out. This would be a job made in heaven, she had thought the very day Norma Jean had called back and told her to be at his office the following Monday at nine-thirty.

Coming out of her reverie, Milán took a deep breath. “It’s all yours,” she told her mirrored reflection. She retrieved her purse and portfolio off the coffee table. “This is your time to shine, chica. He’ll love your designs and ideas and will offer you a job,” she said confidently. Glancing at her watch, Milán frowned. Being late for her meeting with her soon-to-be boss would not look good. It had to be a fantastic interview. Juggling her purse, coffee and briefcase, she headed out.

After seeing all the traffic she had to contend with, Milán was glad she’d decided to leave early. It was definitely a wise move. Downtown Chicago during rush hour was bumper-to-bumper. By the time she had arrived and parked at the North Halstead address Norma Jean have given her, she had less than twenty minutes to spare. Her gaze traveled up the brick boutique-styled building. She definitely liked the large windows and glass door. A dark blue banner with white letters read Anderson Realty.

“This is the place,” she said aloud. Giving herself a mental shake, she squared her shoulders and went in.

Chapter 2

Adrian sat heavily in his chair. He felt like his head was about to explode. The throbbing in his temples made it difficult to concentrate on the woman standing in front of him. When his assistant had come in to tell him that his nine-thirty appointment was waiting, he had assumed it was a prospective interviewee for the Interior Designer position. How wrong he had been. When Adrian’s assistant told him that the woman he had agreed to meet with had been recommended by his mother, a feeling of dread rippled through his entire body and then pure anger. Interior Designer indeed. This was no interview. It was a setup.

In an effort to calm down, he ran his hand over his face and breathed deeply. Resentment made the air hiss on its way out of his mouth. His mother had gone too far this time. This was his place of business, not some bar. With a practiced eye, Adrian scrutinized the woman that his assistant had shown into his office. He may be mad, but he sure wasn’t blind. She was like a stop sign placed in the middle of a freeway during rush-hour traffic. Her looks demanded a man come to a screeching halt and take notice. Long legs did an excellent job of supporting her curvaceous body. The golden hue of her skin was flawless, except for a splattering of freckles on her upper cheeks and nose. Her hair was the color of rich chocolate, and with golden highlights. The way light reflected off the luminous waves that hung just below her shoulders made the color contrast stunning. It beckoned a man to run his fingers through it. His hands clenched together unconsciously.

Adrian’s gaze sought hers. This time the air that expelled itself from his mouth was for an altogether different reason. Those eyes. Her eyes were the pièce de résistance. They were an expressive, medium brown with flecks of light gold around the outer edge that held both strength and mystery. They could drown a man if he was not careful. And he would love every minute of it, he told himself. Adrian felt an instant reaction to the visual display of beauty before him. Instinct kicked in. His body eagerly anticipated taking the perusal to a whole new level, until he remembered the person responsible for the exquisite vision standing in front of him. Cold water splashed on his face could not have produced a faster effect. Slightly annoyed that he had gone poetic at a time like this, he remembered the catalyst by which this gorgeous woman now graced his presence. I can’t believe this. She’s done it to me again.

That realization was enough to jolt Adrian out of his trance. His ardor was quickly squelched and back under wraps where it belonged. This time when his eyes centered on the woman before him, they brooked no warmth. “I can’t believe she sent you.”

“Who?”

Despite his new motivation to send her on her way, Adrian couldn’t deny that her voice was as appealing to him as warm butter on a biscuit—and he loved biscuits.

“My mother!” The two words burst forth, coating the air with tension. He tried to calm himself. Lord knows it took considerable effort. It would appear that the Love Broker had struck again. Looking at the latest proof of Norma Jean Anderson’s handiwork made his blood pressure skyrocket. Hadn’t they had this conversation hours earlier?

Confusion registered on the woman’s face. “Well, yes. Your mother gave me your card and told me I had to come see you.” Sitting across from him, she shrugged out of her suit jacket. “She told me you were exactly the man I needed.”

“I’ll bet she did,” he quipped. Adrian stood up, his hands straightening his suit. He’d heard enough. She may be working it in all the right places, and his temperature may have risen a degree or two, but there was no way in hell he was taking the bait. No way. “Listen, Miss?”

“Dixon...Milán Dixon.”

“It would appear you’ve wasted your time, Miss Dixon—and mine. As fine as you are, and believe me you are without a doubt the most desirable woman my mother has ever paraded my way, I’m just not interested. Of course, if she had tried a few months ago before I got inundated by trolls maybe I would’ve—”

“Excuse me?” Despite her surprise, Milán scowled at him. “You think this is a...a come-on?”

Though his eyes devoured her, they also held a hint of challenge that transferred itself to his tone of voice. “Like it isn’t?”

Milán was out of her chair with her hands on her hips in an instant. “No, it isn’t. This was supposed to be a job interview.”

Her rapid breathing caused her ample chest to stretch the ecru-colored silk blouse taut. His eyes were drawn to the motion like a magnet on a stainless steel refrigerator.

Coming around the expansive desk, Adrian stopped just shy of wearing her. He was impressed she stood her ground. It would appear his mother had finally found one with spirit. “Oh, my mother set up an interview all right, but it’s apparent from the looks of you a job was the last thing she had in mind.”

Standing ramrod straight, it took a few seconds for Milán to recover. When she did, her voice chilled the air around them like a cold front. “You know, of all the stuck-up, asinine, incredibly rude men I’ve come across in my travels, you, Mr. Anderson, set the precedent.”

He leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms in front of his chest. The smile he wore relayed his admiration. “Interesting. Smart, fiery, yet still able to retain your composure in tense situations. I’m truly impressed. I must say, my mother really outdid herself. Do me a favor. The next time you see Norma Jean, and she asks how her ingenious plan went, tell her this for me.” His arms snaked out and yanked Milán to him. He held her in an unyielding embrace as his lips clamped down on hers.

He felt Milán try to wrench herself free, but she was no match against his strength, or his irritation. He would teach his mother a lesson once and for all, and if he had to use her latest protégé to ram that point home, so be it. With practiced movements, Adrian slid one of his hands up and into her hair at the base of her neck to hold her steady. His other arm moved to encircle her back. He leaned over her, tilting her body backward in order to deepen the kiss. Time slowed and then screeched to a halt for him as he continued the onslaught of Milán’s mouth with deft precision.

The kiss ended slowly. He took his time unlocking his lips from hers. Unable to help himself, he gave one final nibble to her bottom lip before moving his hand to her face. She tasted like nectarines. His thumb that caressed the swollen flesh was slightly unsteady. “Tell my mother I said nice try,” he spoke in a voice thick with emotion, “and Lord knows I do mean nice.”

Adrian reluctantly stepped back so that he could look into Milán’s face. He expected to see her all doe-eyed and flushed. Instead her eyes bored into him with heated purpose. Her jaw was clenched so tightly the lips he had so expertly ravished seconds before were thinned to mere slits.

“Release me,” she ground out. “Now.”

Instantly, she was free. A second later, Milán delivered a well-placed fist to his midsection. Adrian’s world faded momentarily, but not before he saw the expression of satisfaction that slid across her reddened face.

Caught off guard, he sagged against his desk. It took some time, but eventually the pain dulled and he was able to stand up straight. He took a few deep breaths. “I take it you didn’t like my message?”

Milán reached over to grab her jacket off the chair, and a portfolio out of her briefcase. She flung it on his desk, and left. Stopping before she got to the door, Milán spun around to look at him. “If you ever put any part of your anatomy on me again without my permission, I promise you I’ll cut it off. Oh, and just so you know, your mother said you were looking to add an interior designer and staging expert to enhance your practice. Considering the real estate market we’re in right now, that was a wise choice on your part. Regrettably, Mrs. Anderson didn’t warn me in advance how rude and unprofessional her son was—not to mention being a narcissistic jackass. Had she done so, I could’ve saved the price of parking.”

Adrian winced when his office door slammed with such force it sent one of his numerous Realtor awards crashing to the floor. A good minute passed before he gingerly lowered himself into his chair. Breathe. He told himself. His ears were still ringing with the censure of Milán’s words. The last part of her insult had been in Spanish, but that didn’t matter. He was fluent in Spanish and understood every word she’d said. Even if he hadn’t, the intonation translated perfectly. Inches away, her résumé taunted him. Either he’d just made a monumental error in judgment, or his mother wasn’t taking any chances on making Miss Dixon’s claim believable.

Figure the odds of your being wrong, his conscience piped in. Not after all you’ve dealt with over the years. Still, what if he was? The familiar throbbing returned to his temples. It would have to wait. The pain in his stomach took higher priority.

“Huh,” he said, incredulously. “I just got cursed out in two different languages, and by a complete stranger. I guess it’s safe to say this day couldn’t possibly get any worse.”

Later that afternoon, his assistant knocked and immediately entered his office.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Anderson, but I’ve been trying to buzz you.”

“I don’t want to be disturbed.” Adrian’s bad mood had resurfaced after lunch. He had found out from one of his employees that a potential client had decided to sign with Tony Ludlow, one of his major competitors, to list his penthouse apartment on Lake Shore Drive. Finding out he had lost a sale always bothered him, but hearing that Ludlow had taken one of his clients from under his nose irked the crap out of him.

“You have a call holding, sir.”

“Let me guess, my mother’s on the line checking on her latest coup?”

The woman opened her mouth to reply, but Adrian interrupted.

“You’d think she’d give me some time between setups to catch my breath and regroup. When will she learn?” Agitated, he rose from his chair to pace around the room.

“Oh, let’s not forget my date this past weekend. She made calls to her therapist all through dinner. Now there was a woman in touch with her inner self. Or how about the kleptomaniac that eyed my Rolex more than me? If I’d have married her, she’d be stealing her own damned silver!”

“You know...I can see you’re busy so I’ll just leave you in peace. One of the other Realtors can take the call.” She backed out and closed the door firmly behind her.

Startled, Adrian halted his diatribe to stare after her. What had he done?

Thoughts of Milán came barreling back. He could see her horrified and then livid expression after he had kissed her. He hadn’t been prepared for the venom she had hurled at him. Another thing he didn’t see coming was his body’s reaction to their kiss.

He felt like he’d been jolted with an electric current. The feeling had run through his entire body before settling like an explosion into his groin. That woman felt altogether too amazing in his arms. Her body was enough to disrupt any man’s peace of mind, and that temper of hers only enhanced his excitement—until she had punched him.

You ruined your chances and there’s no recovering from that fiasco, he complained to himself. Adrian was thoroughly embarrassed and disgusted with himself over his actions. Not that he’d ever admit that aloud. He stifled a curse. It was time to call it a day. The sooner he ended his backward day the better.

While stacking papers into his briefcase, he spotted Milán’s folder. Staring at it, he was about to throw it away when curiosity overpowered him. He grabbed the portfolio, sat down and put his feet up on his desk. Several moments later, the reality of the situation hit home. “Estúpido,” he said to himself. After reading over Milán’s credentials and seeing samples of the homes she had staged, he was intrigued, impressed and extremely pissed off. He was stupid. She was just the caliber designer he needed at Anderson Realty and he’d blown it.

With a multitude of services under the Anderson umbrella, Adrian’s goal was for his clients to be as unstressed as possible during their realty experience. His clients ranged from average income to really-rolling-in-it kind of wealthy, but a realty company wasn’t enough; Adrian had a title company, real estate attorney, a relocation expert, a mortgage specialist and concierge dedicated to providing whatever services were needed. Adrian’s dream had almost come to fruition, but came dangerously close to going belly up when the market bottomed out.

Now more than ever, he needed to assist his clients any way he could to combat the fierce competition. His nemesis, Tony Ludlow, came to mind. Ludlow had been in business about as long as Adrian. From the moment they had met, some undercurrent of one-upmanship had sparked and ignited. Ludlow would watch Adrian to see what he would do, or gloat when his agency came out ahead. He was sure Ludlow did not have a staging expert.

A great designer would be the proverbial icing on the cake for his company. Like the one you just watched walk out your office. Actually stomped out was more accurate. He had to fix this. “¡Me tengo que disculpar!” There was no way that he was going to let her get away without taking a good look at what she could bring to the table.

Granted, having to apologize for the huge mistake he made did not sit well with him, but the idea of losing such a talented designer to someone else appealed to him even less.

Adrian ran a hand over his face. He truly hated this part. Picking up Milán’s résumé from his desk, he scanned over it. He grabbed his handset and dialed the mobile number she had listed in her contact information. The line rang twice and then connected. Her sweet, now slightly irritated voice brushed across his ear.

“Hello, Miss Dixon. This is Adrian Anderson calling.”

Click.

“Damn,” he muttered.

After a moment, he grabbed the phone and dialed another number. This time it was picked up on the fourth ring.

“Hi, Dad, is Mom around?”

Heathcliffe Anderson’s strong baritone voice came over the line. “Not yet, son. It’s Monday. She’s at her yoga class, but should be in any moment. You want me to have her call you?”

Adrian grabbed his briefcase and jacket. “Not necessary, Dad. I’m on my way over. Mom and I have something to discuss in person—and it’s long overdue.”

* * *

While Milán drove home, she attempted to cool off. When she was distraught about something, two things gave her tranquility: driving her car with the music blaring and cleaning the heck out of something. She wasn’t home yet, so driving would have to do.

What a jerk! She replayed her encounter again in her head. Her fingers flew up to her lips. How dare he kiss me! Just thinking about the encounter made her heart race, but she was confused. Norma Jean had spoken so glowingly of him. She couldn’t help getting caught up in the excitement, too. Jeanie believed that the two of them would make a great team. His mother couldn’t have been more wrong.

After she had left Adrian’s office, the reality of her situation was driven home. She needed a job, and she needed one soon. She refused to dip into her savings account more than necessary. Her parents had gifted their children with a small monetary umbrella to use for a rainy day. Granted, this was more like a torrential downpour, but there was no way she was touching that money unless it was a dire emergency. She would simply double her efforts to find employment. Now thanks to that narcissistic playboy her morning was wasted.

Just thinking about their run-in got her blood boiling all over again. Her cell phone rang. She checked the number and saw it was her mother. There was no way she could talk to her right now. She was too upset and her mother would pick up on it. Neither Milán nor her sisters could keep anything hidden from Pia Dixon. Besides, Milán wasn’t ready to recount her horrid morning with Adrian Anderson and his massive ego. Not without bursting into tears of anger and frustration. He ruined everything!

Chapter 3

“For the last time, I didn’t have an ulterior motive,” Norma Jean said with exasperation. “I suggested Milán contact you because she’s looking for a job, and you’re looking for an interior designer.” She regarded her son from over her glasses. “Seemed a perfect fit to me.”

“Yeah, like her being crazy beautiful had no bearing in sending her my way?”

Adrian’s mother sat back in her chair. She stopped her scrapbooking and observed her son carefully. A knowing smile crept onto her face. “You think she’s beautiful.”

Adrian looked indignant. “And you didn’t? Come on, Mom, you’re killing me. You knew darn well I’d think she was gorgeous, but I recall having told you somewhere between one and a million times to stay out of my love life. Why won’t you do this?” He slammed down into the nearest chair. Adrian released a loud, harsh sigh, and then gazed up at the ceiling before shaking his head.

Norma Jean resumed placing small patterned shapes across her page. “Honey, you really should calm yourself. Maybe you should take up yoga? It would teach you how to release that pent-up stress you’re carrying around.”

“Calm myself? How can I? I honestly never know who’s lurking around the corner waiting to pounce on me compliments of Norma Jean Anderson.”

“I resent that.”

With a raised eyebrow he shot back, “Tell me I’m exaggerating.” Adrian rubbed his hand over his face. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze traveled around his parents’ family room. It looked like Cupid had set up shop and never left. Every surface had something pertaining to romance: his mother’s stack of inspirational love stories, the two red his-and-her teddy bears joined at the lips on a bookcase, the rose-scented tea lights with the red heart-shaped candleholder and family photos stored in floral decorative boxes. It was a good thing she kept her walls and carpet neutral. Any other color would have clashed with her “love couture.” His mother wasn’t dressed in a frilly pink number right now, but she might as well have been. Norma Jean was a die-hard romantic in every bone of her five-foot-nine-inch frame.

Married to her childhood sweetheart, his mother thought everyone on the planet should be as lucky in love as her and his dad. To prove the point, she’d been fixing him up since middle school. How he’d escaped matrimony this long was anyone’s guess. Frankly, Adrian thought it was nothing short of a miracle.

Taking a deep breath, he jumped back into the fray. “Mom, when are you going to understand that love isn’t something you can orchestrate like one of your bingo nights at the community center? That’s not how it works. That’s not how I work.”

His mother rolled her eyes. “Okay, now you’re being dramatic. Need I remind you that since your breakup, your track record with superficial playthings—that don’t have the wits or the foresight to be wife potential—is staggering?”

“I’m glad my heartbreak amuses you,” Adrian snapped.

Norma Jean slid her glasses into her short, spiked gray hair and stood up. She pointed a well-manicured finger in her son’s direction. “Don’t you use that tone with me, or so help me I’ll put my women’s safety classes to good use and drop you on this floor.”

Adrian was instantly contrite. “My apologies.”

His mother smoothed her hands over her knit jogging suit and returned to her plush chenille chair to resume her scrapbooking. A minute or two later, she glanced up to find Adrian still brooding.

“Honey, believe me I was only thinking of your company when I sent Milán to you. I know how hard it’s been for anyone trying to make a living in the housing market these days. Besides, you’re always so stressed out about that Ludlow man getting one up on you.”

“I’m not stressed,” he refuted.

“Call it what you will,” she continued. “The point is I saw a perfect opportunity to help you so I took it. And if you’ll recall, since Justin got married last year—to the blind date that I had arranged for you by the way—”

“I was there, Mom, remember?”

“Like I was saying,” she elevated her voice and pressed on. “I may have set you up on a date or two since then, but I’ve respected your right to find your own wife. No matter how long and drawn out that process seems to be,” she added. “What I don’t understand is why you’re so against my choices—or yours for that matter. You date someone once or a few times and then poof. They vanish into thin air. Everyone’s been kicked in the teeth by love, son. The trick is to get back on that horse and gallop.”

Adrian stared at his mother. “It’s not that I’m against marriage or a serious commitment. I envision myself with a wife one day, but I refuse to enter into another long-term relationship without knowing exactly what I’m dealing with. I won’t make that mistake again. Ever.”

She shook her head. “I might as well resign myself to the fact that sooner or later I’ll have to rent some grandbabies.”

He snorted. “Now who’s being dramatic?”

As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. That matchmaking scheme his mother had set in motion had forced him to stand up his blind date, Sabrina Ridgemont, in an effort to teach his mother a lesson. Unbeknownst to Adrian at the time, his best friend, Justin Langley, had gone to break the date, in person. Through a series of events, Justin had led Sabrina to believe he was Adrian. The fiasco that ensued gave Adrian a headache just thinking about it. Fortunately, the outcome was what mattered. The truth had come out eventually, and despite a rocky start, Justin and Sabrina were now happily married. Thanks to Norma Jean and her machinations.

“Okay,” he conceded. “I apologize for jumping to conclusions about your friend. Now can we change the subject? It’s true, I would like a designer on staff to give my clients’ homes an edge, but I doubt Milán Dixon will be the one.”

“Oh?” his mother queried. “I don’t see why not. She’s perfect.”

She is most definitely perfect. Suddenly, Adrian looked uncomfortable. “Because I screwed up big time. I thought... Suffice it to say, when I saw her, I assumed you were up to business as usual and that it wasn’t a real interview. I let her know point-blank what I thought of her—and your interference.”

“Adrian,” his mother gasped. “Tell me you didn’t embarrass me.”

He recalled the scene in his office. “You don’t know the half of it,” he mumbled.

Norma Jean shifted in her chair. “Now I raised you better than that.”

He held his hands up in front of him. “Please, no sermon. I’ve already been properly chastised today—in two languages.”

“Well good.” She nodded approvingly. “You deserved it. I recall her telling me that she was bilingual. What language does she speak?”

“Is that relevant?”

His mother arched her eyebrow.

“Spanish,” he grumbled. “She speaks Spanish.”

Humph. “You learned the language to increase your client base. This would have been a perfect arrangement. If you ask me—”

“I didn’t.”

“You got off light,” she finished. “I can’t believe you botched the meeting. You need to call her and apologize.”

“I tried.”

“And?”

“And, as soon as I told her who I was, she hung up.”

“Serves you right, but you have to try again.”

“Mom, she knows my phone number now. The next time she won’t even bother to pick it up.” He eyed his mother. “Unless...you can—”

“Forget it. You messed this up, now you’re going to find a way to fix it. I’m not bailing you out.”

Adrian’s eyes bugged out. “Need I remind you that you were the one that put me in this position to begin with?”

“I merely presented you with an opportunity. Your big mouth made you blow it.”

“What’s all the ruckus?”

Both turned to see Heathcliffe coming into the room.

Norma Jean brightened at seeing her husband. “Hi, honey.”

“Long story, Dad.”

His father leaned against the closest wall. “So give me the condensed version.”

“Our son insulted Miss Dixon, put his foot in his mouth, and got blessed out in the process.”

“Thanks for the recap,” Adrian drawled.

Norma Jean flashed a smile. “No problem, sweetie. Anyway, Cliff, I merely suggested he make amends for being loud—and wrong.”

“Sounds good to me. I mean if he—”

Adrian sat up. “Am I not sitting right here?”

His parents resumed their conversation.

After a few moments, Adrian threw in the towel. Getting up, he kissed his mother before walking over and patting his father on the shoulder. “I’m leaving now. I know when to call it quits.”

“I guess that’s true. It has been a rather long, eventful day for you, hasn’t it?”

Adrian nodded. “Dad, you have no idea. Mom, I’ll be over for dinner on Thursday, okay?”

“Tell me something I didn’t know,” Norma Jean joked.

Before Adrian got to the door, his mother’s voice stopped him.

“Wait a minute.”

Adrian turned. “Yeah?

“Since you know Spanish, why didn’t you just answer her?”

For the first time today a smile lit up his face. “And ruin that exit? Not on your life.” Adrian winked.

“Scoundrel,” his mother called after him.

When Adrian left the room, Heathcliffe settled himself in the seat his son had vacated and went back to discussing things with his wife.

* * *

Realizing he’d forgotten to ask his father something, Adrian headed back into the family room. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard his dad say, “Okay, Jeanie, fess up.”

Silently, Adrian crept out into the hallway and stood there waiting to pounce.

“Cliff, I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Heathcliffe scrutinized his wife. “You set him up again, didn’t you?”

That got Adrian’s attention. He leaned forward to hear his mother’s confession.

“I told you both, I only suggested Milán contact him for a job. No more, no less.”

“Jeanie?”

“She’s a nice young woman that I met in church through a mutual friend—”

“And that’s it?” her husband interrupted.

Adrian saw his mother shoot his dad the look. Despite being worried that he might have been duped, he was glad not to be on the receiving end of his mother’s pique.

“Like I was saying,” Norma Jean continued. “Milán mentioned she’s looking for a job as an interior designer. Naturally, I thought of my baby. What’s the harm in that?”

“Nothing, darling, as long as that’s your only reason for bringing them together.”

“Oh, please. I haven’t involved myself in Adrian’s love life in forever. I’m not about to start now,” she huffed returning to her project.

Heathcliffe got up and leaned over his wife. When they made eye contact, he flashed Norma Jean his look. She blushed when he kissed her soundly. “That’s my girl.”

That was Adrian’s cue. The last thing he needed to see was his parents making out. There had been enough disasters today without adding that bit of horror.

Stealthily, Adrian headed for the entrance. He was completely wrong about his mother. A huge grin began. For once in Lord-knows-how-long, she had respected his wishes to stay out of his love life. He was satisfied that his dogged determination had finally paid off. The good humor was short-lived when his thoughts returned to a hot-blooded Amazon beauty he had ruthlessly insulted. Great, you’ve prevailed in the war with your mother, he told himself. But how are you going to win the battle with Milán?

* * *

Later that evening, Milán raised her yellow-rubber-gloved hand to her forehead to wipe the sweat away. Returning to scrubbing her counter, she increased her efforts. “The man’s an idiot, Nyah,” she complained to her sister over the speakerphone. “I didn’t think they had men left that full of themselves. What, do they take aside boys that show the most potential when they’re young and program them to be self-absorbed idiots? I’m telling you if they do, Adrian Anderson got in line twice. You should have heard all the things he said to me. I swear he’s lucky that all I did was walk out. I felt like breaking something over his arrogant piñata head!”

“Will you calm down?” Nyah Dixon pleaded.

“No, I will not. I’m too pissed to calm down. El me besó, Nyah.”

“¿Qué?” Her sister shrieked. “¿Por qué?”

“Because he thought I was some stupid matchmaking setup. He thought his mother sent me and wanted to prove a point. I showed him my point,” Milán said hotly. “He’s lucky I didn’t land it farther south.”

“Oh my. No wonder you’re in a cleaning frenzy.”

“No lo soy,” Milan lied.

“Honey, I can hear the exertion in your voice over the phone,” Nyah replied. “Clearly, you’re scrubbing the heck out of something. Not that it surprises me. You always take out your frustrations on your house, or whoever’s house you’re in at the time. Cada vez que te disgustarse, te conviertes en un limpiador obsesivo.”

“I do not,” Milán protested. “There’s nothing obsessive about my cleaning.”

“Uh-huh... ¿Qué aspecto tiene?”

Milán halted scrubbing and straightened up. “¿Qué dice?”

“You heard me.”

“What do you mean, what does he look like? What’s that got to do it?”

“Responde la pregunta.”

Exasperated, Milán let out a loud sigh. “He was too obnoxious for me to tell. After he made me mad, I didn’t pay much attention.”

“I’m not buying that,” Nyah said, firmly. “Come on, tell me.”

Milán groaned. “Must we do this now?”

“Deje de darle vueltas al asunto y dime. ¿Buen besador? ¿Hace que el corazón palpite solo mirarlo? ¿Es alto?”

Milán groaned. “I didn’t ponder if he was a good kisser or not and no, my heart didn’t flutter. It was racing, but that’s because I was angry. And he’s tall. At least six foot two.”

“Athletic, or really muscular?”

Milán paused. “Somewhere in the middle. He’s definitely in shape.”

“What about the rest of him? What color are his eyes? Does he have a strong jaw? What about his skin? Is it a warm caramel, luscious milk chocolate or soft delectable nougat?”

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

Adrian 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.”

Chapter 5

Norma Jean glanced between the two of them. “Here, honey.” She handed her son the bowl of potatoes. “Adrian was just about to tell me how this all came about when you walked in.”

Milán watched Norma Jean push the bowl forcefully at Adrian. She bit back a chuckle.

The bowl connected with his chest. With a questioning glance toward his mother, he took the side dish into the dining room.

When he returned, he was lightly rubbing his chest. “I was telling Dad that I was in the area showing a house to a client.”

“Really?” his mother inquired, sweetly. “Where?”

“Farther down on North Melvina.”

“What a small world,” Norma Jean commented before she left the kitchen and took more food to the table.

The moment Adrian’s mother was gone, Milán rounded on him. “I don’t buy that for a minute.”

He regarded Milán with amusement. “Excuse me?”

“What you told your mother. I don’t believe it.”

Unable to help himself, Adrian moved closer. “First of all, you don’t know me well enough to automatically accuse me of lying.”

Milán snorted loudly. “Don’t I? They say you can tell much about a person’s character in the first few moments of meeting them.”

“So what makes you an expert?”

“Experience. Though, I didn’t heed that advice in my own life until it was too late. The results were disastrous, and something I’m not inclined to repeat.”

“If we’d just met, in addition to you obviously being a poor judge of character,” he countered, “I could say that you’re a, hothead that can’t hold her temper—and a poor kisser.”

A gasp escaped Milán’s lips. “How dare you,” she said indignantly. “You think you can take what you want without consequence and everyone is supposed to fall in line and do your bidding? You’re so conceited it’s appalling.”

With a shrug, Adrian leaned against the sink. “I tend to stray from doing the expected. Tell me, Miss Dixon, why do you think I’m here?”

“What?”

“You don’t believe my explanation, and since you’re an expert, you must have a theory.”

“I hope it’s not one of those dates your mother likes to fix people up on. If it is, she’s wasting her time. I’ve sworn off egotistical men.”

He snickered. “This is hardly a date. If it were, it would be the most hostile one I’ve ever been on.”

“Well then I guess you’re just here to ruin my evening.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “You think I was so unable to resist your alluring personality, I found out you’d be here and rushed right over under the guise of being in the neighborhood?”

The condescending tone in his voice grated on Milán’s nerves. She glared at him. “Yes.”

“Now who’s full of themselves?”

“Normally I’m a very nice person, except when I’m insulted by complete strangers and accosted in their offices.”

His smiled faded. “I didn’t accost you, and I tried to apologize if you recall.”

“You verbally assaulted me, and kissed me without my permission. Then you give me some lame, stammered-over apology and you think I’m supposed to be okay with that? I don’t know what kind of women you’re used to dealing with, Mr. Anderson, but I am not some simpering idiot who can’t see past that insincere smile you pasted on your face.”

“It wasn’t my fault. I thought it...you were a setup. My mother’s always fixing me up. I just assumed you were her latest manipulation. I’m trying to make amends, Miss Dixon, but it’s difficult when you’re not trying to see this for what it was—an honest mistake.”

Milán crossed her arms over her chest. “Both of us being here will be a disaster. I think one of us should leave.”

A lazy smile started at the corner of his mouth. “I guess you could—if I make you that uncomfortable.”

Her eyes darkened. “Nothing you do makes me uncomfortable.”

As if a gauntlet had been tossed, Adrian pushed away from the sink and sauntered toward Milán. He didn’t touch her, but she took a few steps in the opposite direction anyway.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

Adrian lowered his voice to barely a whisper. “So you haven’t thought about our kiss not once since you left my office?”

Milán paled. “Your kiss, Mr. Anderson, not mine and no, I haven’t.”

A smug look crossed his face. “I don’t believe you, Miss Dixon. My guess is you did, and just thinking about it makes you...uncomfortable.”

Her head tilted slightly to the side. “Then you’d be mistaken,” she replied sweetly. “A bruise to that overinflated ego of yours no doubt, but I’m sure you’ll get over it. Besides, I’m not a good kisser, remember?”

Before he could retort, Norma Jean sailed into the kitchen.

Milán wondered if Adrian’s mother was either oblivious, or purposefully ignoring the tension coating the air like melted caramel on an apple.

“I’m thrilled you two are getting along so well,” she commented. “You know, I honestly had my doubts whether you would after Adrian—”

“No point rehashing that again, Mom. I’m sure Milán has forgiven me that minor mix-up.” His eyes held a hint of challenge. “Isn’t that right, Miss Dixon?”

“So, how was your showing?” Milán asked, not bothering to answer his question.

“Great,” he replied, playing along. “The couple seemed very interested. The house is all brick, has upgrades galore and custom hardwood floors with cherry inlays. They’ll probably make an offer.”

“Have we moved dinner in here?” Heathcliffe inquired, coming through the kitchen door.

Norma Jean motioned everyone to the table. Adrian held out his mother’s chair while his father assisted Milán. Minutes later, Heathcliffe was about to say grace when the doorbell rang.

“You expecting anyone else, sweetheart?” he asked his wife.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

Adrian rose from his seat. “I’ll get it.”

He excused himself and left the room. When he opened the front door, Justin was standing there.

“Cutting it close, aren’t you?” he whispered.

“In-law insanity,” Justin muttered.

When his wife reached the landing, he put an arm around her waist.

Adrian kissed Sabrina on the cheek. “How are you, Brina?”

Sabrina Ridgemont Langley returned Adrian’s quick peck and followed her husband inside.

“Just fine and you?”

“Never better. We’re just starting dinner.”

“What?” Sabrina’s eyes widened with dismay. “Oh, dear. Justin saw your car and wanted to stop and say hi. We should’ve called first.” She backed up, tugging on her husband’s sleeve as she went. “Give our regards to everyone, okay?”

“He’ll do no such thing,” Norma Jean called from behind Adrian.

“You two lovebirds come right in and join us. We’ve got plenty. I’ve made a roast and my signature mashed potatoes.” She winked at Justin.

“Music to my ears, Ms. Jeanie.”

“If you’re sure—” Sabrina began.

“You know I love company, and this is turning into a real dinner party.”

After everyone was settled, Norma Jean made introductions and then asked Adrian to get two more place settings. He was trying to locate cloth napkins when Milán came in.

“Your mother asked me to get another trivet.”

Adrian retrieved the napkins from an upper cabinet. “Sure,” he told her.

He walked across the room, grabbed one from a drawer and handed it to Milán.

“I was more than capable of getting it.”

“I’m sure you’re very capable in whatever you do,” Adrian drawled.

She rolled her eyes before snatching the trivet from him. Milán started to leave and stopped. A brief expression of uncertainty crossed her face. How the night had unfolded was causing her a moment of suspicion. What had started out as her coming to a casual dinner had turned into an event. Was Jeanie really trying to set her up with Adrian? No, it couldn’t be, she told herself dismissively. Her new friend may be a matchmaker, but there was no way she’d ever date a man like her son.

“Are you okay?”

Blinking, Milán realized Adrian was staring at her. She cleared her throat. “Yes, I’m fine,” she assured him. Turning on her heel, she quickly left the room.

* * *

Dinner was lively. Everyone took turns contributing to the conversation.

Milán turned to her hostess. “This is a fabulous meal, Jeanie.”

“She’s outdone herself as usual,” her husband praised.

Sabrina gave Milán a nudge. “Jeanie excels at three things. Cooking, bringing a crowd together and fixing people up.”

Everyone nodded in agreement and the table buzzed anew with comments. Milán observed Adrian being noticeably quiet.

“Oh, don’t mind him,” Justin told her after following her line of sight. “He’s been fixed up more by his mother than he’s sold houses.”

Milán’s gaze returned to her plate.

Adrian rolled his eyes. “Quit exaggerating.”

“I’m just saying.” Justin laughed. “It’s been a lot.”

“An awful lot,” Sabrina chimed in.

“A whole lot.” His dad chuckled getting in on the fun.

Adrian shifted in his seat. “Okay, we get it.”

Milán directed her attention to Justin. “So what you’re saying is none of them were ever a love connection?”

“Oh, there’ve been plenty of love connections,” Heathcliffe alleged. “Just not for Adrian. Isn’t that right, son?”

When she pressed for details, a collective groan went around the table. Milán glanced at Norma Jean with curiosity.

“It’s a long story,” Norma Jean began.

“Mom, do we really need to bore Milán with details?”

She smiled at her son. “We most certainly do.”

Norma Jean recounted how she’d arranged a date with her best friend’s niece, Sabrina, but Adrian stood her up. Justin picked up the story from there.

“So naturally, I couldn’t let him do that,” he said with a laugh.

“Naturally,” Adrian said, drily.

“I went to the restaurant to break the date on his behalf.”

“And before I knew it, he’d assumed Adrian’s identity,” Sabrina added.

“But didn’t you know Justin wasn’t him?” Milán queried.

Sabrina shook her head. “How could I?”

Milán stared at Adrian. “You didn’t contact her before the date? You know, to break the ice?”

Adrian shrugged. “I wasn’t planning on going so there was no point.”

The expression Milán gave him could’ve melted steel. “You should’ve told her the truth and canceled the date like a gentleman.”

The table was silent for a moment before Sabrina said, “It’s amazing everything worked out in the end. Actually, we should thank my ex-boyfriend who happened to show up right then. He was a real jerk.”

Milán’s cool expression settled on Adrian. “Apparently, he wasn’t the only one.”

“Uh, anyway,” Sabrina continued, “he came over and introduced himself.”

Justin turned toward Milán. “I couldn’t tell him my real name before I’d told Sabrina the truth so I told him I was Adrian.”

Milán gasped, waving her hands excitedly. “¡Oh, Dios mío! ¡Que una aventura!”

The table collectively looked from Milán to Adrian and back again. Adrian’s expression was unreadable.

“Perdóname,” Milán apologized. “I said, what an adventure.”

“It certainly was,” Sabrina agreed. “I didn’t know you were Spanish.”

“I’m not. My mother is Mexican, and my father is African-American. My parents insisted we grow up bilingual.”

“That’s fantastic,” Sabrina replied. “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“Two sisters, Nyah and Elena. I’m the oldest.”

“It’s great you’re fluent,” Sabrina complimented. “I barely passed French. You know Adrian—”

“Knows all about Milán being bilingual,” he interrupted. “I got a sample of the lovely senorita’s Spanish when we met,” he informed the crowd.

Justin and Sabrina shot glances at Adrian, but he didn’t make eye contact.

“So, what happened next?” Milán inquired, missing the exchange.

“They fell in love and are living happily ever after.” His mother sighed happily.

Adrian stood up and began clearing dishes off the table. “See? It turned out great for everyone. Now who’s up for dessert?”

“You all relax,” Norma Jean told the group. “We’ll be right back.”

Adrian followed her into the kitchen. As soon as they cleared the doorway, Norma Jean punched him. “What are you really doing here?” she demanded.

Chapter 6

“Ouch.” Adrian grabbed his arm. “What was that for?”

“You’re lying.”

Adrian rubbed his arm. “I’m getting really tired of hearing that. I told you. I was in the area, and since when has my showing up out of the blue been a surprise?”

Norma Jean placed her hands on her hips. “Oh, please, you were just here two days ago, Adrian. Like you had no idea we’d invited Milán over tonight for dinner. What kind of game are you playing?”

“None.”

Norma Jean looked skeptical. “I’m your mother, remember? I know when you’re lying to me. If you’re trying to pull the wool over my eyes, you’ll need to do better than this. I mean really, son, this isn’t even original.”

“Okay, detective. Tell me how I’d know Milán was here when I haven’t spoken to you since I left that night?”

“You’re resourceful, you tell me.” Going to the refrigerator, Jeanie retrieved the banana pudding and then the bowls from the cupboard.

Adrian regarded his mother while he gathered spoons from the silverware drawer. “Fine. You don’t believe me, I get it, but Justin and Sabrina dropped in, as well. Are you going to punch them in the arm, too?”

“Don’t be silly,” she chided. “And why are you acting like you don’t speak a lick of Spanish?”

“Hey, she assumes I don’t speak her language so why bother to change her opinion? And what’s with the inquisition?”

“Is that what you think this is?”

“It’s kind of hard not to. Two weeks ago you were trying to get Milán and me together. Now you’re throwing kitchen knives at me with your eyes across the table.”

“I was not,” she protested. “I was trying to help you for work—nothing more. You botched things up so badly when you met, the last thing I want is her thinking I set her up.”

He laughed heartily. “Since when?”

Norma Jean rolled her eyes.

The evening had definitely not gone according to plan. Adrian was used to being the topic of discussion in a crowd, just not in a negative light.

“It’s a moot point anyway,” he reasoned. “Thanks to that roasting I got out there a few minutes ago, Milán probably thinks I’m a jerk.”

Norma Jean’s expression softened immediately. She walked over and touched his arm. “Honey, you know that wasn’t our intent.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he groused.

“Adrian, at some point you need to realize you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

He closed the distance between them. Adrian hugged his mother and gave her a peck on the cheek. “That may be true, but now isn’t that time.”

Norma Jean opened her mouth to call after him, but abruptly closed it. A questioning look crossed her face. Suddenly, she laughed aloud. “Fascinating.”

* * *

After dessert, everyone pitched in to clean up. Milán felt right at home rolling up her sleeves and helping out amid a throng of people. Justin and Sabrina took turns discussing past exploits and dating horror stories, prompting Milán to touch on a few debacles of her own ending with Eduardo. She was surprised to find that the sting she felt thinking about their breakup had subsided.

When they were done, the Langleys decided to leave. Milán hugged them both.

“It was great meeting you, and Justin.”

“Likewise,” Sabrina told her.

Adrian walked his friends to the front door. He was about to open it when Sabrina cornered him. “Why did you stop me from telling Milán you speak Spanish?”

“Was that what I did?”

Sabrina’s eyes narrowed. “You know darn well that’s what you did.” She pointed a finger in his chest. “I know you, Adrian. You never do anything without a reason. What are you up to?”

“I’ve heard that a lot this evening.” He bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “I promise you I’m not up to anything.”

“That suave thing doesn’t work on me. I’m not going to go all gaga and forget that you haven’t answered my question,” she informed him.

“No, that only works when I do it.” Justin laughed before gently guiding his wife out the front door.

Sabrina dug her heels in at the threshold. “I mean it, Adrian. You’d better not do something to Jeanie’s new friend that I as a woman might personally take offense to.”

Adrian placed a hand over his heart. “You have my word.”

Before she could reply, her husband maneuvered her onto the porch.

“I owe you one,” Adrian said jovially.

“You got that right.” Justin closed the door behind him.

Adrian returned to the kitchen to find Milán offering to help put the food away.

“You have helped enough for one evening,” Norma Jean announced. “You and Cliff go out and enjoy the deck. Adrian will help me with the leftovers.”

She glanced between them with uncertainty. “Are you sure, Jeanie?”

“Yes,” she smiled, reassuringly. “We can handle this.”

“We?” Adrian called from the doorway.

“Yes, we,” his mother stressed.

Adrian arched his eyebrow at that. When Milán turned to face him he replaced the shocked look with a grin and said, “Of course.”

Once they were through, Norma Jean shooed him out of the kitchen.

“You go on. I’ll put coffee on and be out shortly.”

* * *

By the time Adrian slid the door open and stepped onto the deck, Milán and his dad were deep in conversation. He took a minute to observe the two of them unseen. He couldn’t help but watch how the breeze kept blowing her hair across her cheek, or how she continually swept it out of her way. After a few times, she opted to pull it securely behind her ear. He was only half listening to something his father was saying, but tuned in each time Milán laughed or spoke.

A keen eye when it came to observing people, Adrian could tell if an action was sincere, or contrived. Listening to Milán as she interacted with his father, he knew without a doubt that the interest she showed his dad was genuine. Oddly, that made him smile.

He stepped into view. “It’s nice out tonight.”

“Sure is,” his father chimed in. “I was just telling Milán about Chicago winters.”

“She’s from Florida, Dad. I don’t think she’s all that anxious to hear about our frigid temperatures just yet.” He regarded her for a moment. “Coral Gables, right?”

Milán’s head snapped up. “Yes. How’d you know that?”

“I read the résumé you left and checked your references. You received your BFA and Master’s degree in Interior Design from the Miami International University of Art and Design. After graduating you interned at an architectural firm and did some freelance projects and received your accreditation as a professional staging expert. From there you were hired at a well-known firm in Miami before going to work at a company in Coral Gables. Your past employers spoke very highly of you, Milán. Your design portfolio is very impressive, as well.”

She was unable to hide her surprise. “Thank you.”

Heathcliffe pushed away from the railing. “I’d better go in and help your mother finish up. She may say she doesn’t need it, but if I don’t at least offer, I’ll hear about it later,” he chuckled and then went inside.

Adrian sat down on one of the benches stretching his legs out in front of him.

“I’m sorry about the kitchen run-in. I seem to rub you the wrong way, don’t I?”

“It appears you go out of your way to do so, Mr. Anderson.”

“That’s not my intent,” he admitted. “Miss Dixon, would you do me a favor?”

Milán lowered herself into a chair across from him. “It depends. What is it?”

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