by Watson, Lisa
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.”
&
nbsp; 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.
