In the Market for Love

by Joy Avery

  Before Hamilton completed his thought, the door crept open behind them. When Vivian rotated, time came to a standstill. Him. Tempered Chocolate. The second their gazes collided, her body performed a similar shameful act as before. But added to the searing heat that rushed through her system, again, her nipples tightened inside her bra.

  No, no, no, don’t you dare betray me like this, she warned her defiant body.

  Questions flooded her. Had he entered the wrong room? Was he lost? Or less likely, had he been looking for her? She mentally drop-kicked the latter thought from her head. How ridiculous. Of course he isn’t looking for me.

  Sadly, their connection now didn’t reflect the one they’d shared earlier—at least judging by his expression. In fact, now he seemed downright bothered by her presence. Vivian thought she even detected a hint of a scowl on his gorgeous face. But why? The only interaction they’d had before this moment had been a glance—a look—okay, a heat-packed, center-stirring stare, which at the time he’d seemed to appreciate just as much as she had. Obviously something had changed.

  “Ta-hee-hee. Just as I expected,” came from Hamilton’s direction.

  Vivian wasn’t sure what Hamilton’s comment meant, but it was enough to draw Tempered’s demanding eyes away from her. A good thing, too. Another second and she would have needed an IV. This man’s presence was draining. And to make it worse, though they hadn’t spoken a single word to one another, he had her body in a tailspin.

  Chocolate had always been her weakness.

  Chapter 2

  Alonso Wright stopped dead in his tracks the second he entered Hamilton’s room. Her. The beautiful nurse he’d caught staring at him earlier. Okay, he couldn’t confirm for sure she’d been staring, but she’d certainly appeared guilty when his eyes had met hers. He was pretty sure she’d gasped, too.

  Normally he would have appreciated the fact he’d been given another opportunity to admire the way her brown hair dangled in the ponytail every time she moved her head, or how her pecan-toned skin shimmered under the fluorescent lighting, or the hungry way her innocent-looking brown eyes drank him up. Unfortunately, the way the rude nurse who’d been here earlier had darted from the room overshadowed it all.

  From the moment the other nurse had entered the room, she’d acted as if Hamilton’s mere existence disgusted her. Recalling the way the woman had rushed from the room, while Alonso was in midsentence, angered him all over again. She’d disrespected him, but more important, had disrespected Hamilton.

  Was this her replacement? This one was probably just as unsympathetic as the one before. He’d hate to have to make a phone call about her, too. In a dry tone, he said, “I buzzed for someone over fifteen minutes ago. I’m glad you finally decided to grace us with your presence.”

  “I apologize, sir. But I’m here now.”

  “Well, we don’t need you now. I handled your job for you.” He lifted the can of soda he’d been holding, then neared Hamilton’s bedside.

  She moved beside him with the speed of a cheetah. “Uh, what are you doing?”

  “I’m making sure my friend doesn’t dehydrate, since I’m the only one who seems concerned about his well-being.” He normally wasn’t this sour, but a mixture of worry, stress and thin patience with the staff had him not his usual self. Maybe he needed a Snickers.

  The bold woman confiscated the can of soda before he could pass it to Hamilton. “Hamilton can’t have this. We’re trying to lower his blood sugar, not increase it. Which is exactly what this would do.”

  Hamilton? Were they on a first-name basis? “Well, if I could have gotten one of you to actually respond, maybe we would have had a more viable option. And it’s Mr. Price. He deserves the same respect you’d give any other patient in this hospital.” Alonso shook his head. “You people are something else. And for the record, he has good health insurance. Great insurance, actually. Probably better than yours. So you can stop treating him like a second-class citizen and do your job.”

  When her jaw muscles flexed and her brown eyes turned a shade darker, Alonso knew he’d hit a nerve. But he wasn’t backing down.

  “Ta-hee-hee. Uh-oh. I think you done poked the hornet’s nest, boy.”

  Yep, it appeared so. After a couple seconds more of boring a hole in him with those mesmerizing eyes, she slid her attention from Alonso to Hamilton. A warm smile curled her lips as she addressed him.

  “Hamilton...”

  Alonso didn’t miss the fact that she’d cut her eyes at him with the use of Hamilton’s first name again.

  “Sodas aren’t a good option. They may be okay every once in a while, but they’re loaded with sugar. Which I’m sure you know wreaks havoc on your diabetes.”

  “Yeah. I tried to tell that knucklehead.”

  Alonso’s brows furrowed. What? Hamilton had thrown him under the bus. He’d been the one to ask for the damn soda. At the smirk on Hamilton’s face, Alonso shook his head. When the nurse tossed a disapproving glance in Alonso’s direction, Alonso folded his arms across his chest and remained silent. That seemed like the best option.

  Rolling her eyes away, she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Hamilton’s thin arm.

  “Don’t worry. Once I check your vitals, I’ll get you something more suitable.”

  Hamilton smiled so wide Alonso thought the corners of his mouth would split.

  “Thank you, darling. Smart, pretty and accommodating. You married? Now, you’re a little too young for me. What are you, twenty-five, twenty-six?”

  “Thirty-four, actually.”

  Alonso was just as stunned as Hamilton appeared. The woman didn’t look anywhere close to thirty. Obviously good genes. At the mention of genes, Alonso’s eyes lowered to her ass. Yeah, definitely good genes. And he wouldn’t mind being the pair of jeans that got to cup all of that. Something stirred in the pit of his stomach, but he chose to ignore it.

  “You’d be perfect for—” Hamilton cut his eye to Alonso “—someone else I know.”

  Alonso flashed him a scowl. The man never missed an opportunity to play matchmaker. Even if Alonso were interested in her—which he wasn’t—he didn’t see her being a no-commitment type of woman. Thanks to his ex, commitment no longer interested him.

  She chuckled. “Say ‘ahh,’ Hamilton.”

  Neither Hamilton’s scent nor tattered clothing seemed to bother her. Her gentle manner with Hamilton forced Alonso to consider the fact he may have pegged her all wrong. Her compassion toward Hamilton appeared actually genuine. Or maybe it was because Alonso had called her out earlier. Either way, he was glad Hamilton was getting the respect he deserved.

  Alonso recalled the way he’d treated her earlier. Damn. He regretted the fact he’d been such an asshole. Maybe he’d get the chance to make it right.

  “All right. We’re all done here. Quick and painless. Now for that drink. Water, unsweetened tea, coffee, diet soda?”

  Alonso rocked back on his heels. “So many delicious choices.” It was his chance to smirk when Hamilton eyed him. Payback for the earlier jab. If the nurse wasn’t in the room, Alonso was sure Hamilton would have flipped him the bird. That was their relationship. They gave each other shit, but Alonso trusted the man with his life. Hell, he had Hamilton to thank for his life.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  Her voice tore into Alonso’s thoughts, snatching him from the past. “I’m sorry?”

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  The offer surprised Alonso, until he considered she probably planned to poison him. Despite their earlier confrontation—if you could call it that—her manner toward him wasn’t hostile. Quite the opposite, in fact. He noted kindness in her expression. Yeah, she planned to poison him. “Ahh...no. I’m good. Thank you, though.”

  “Sit tight, Hamilton. I’ll be right back
.”

  With that, she turned and headed toward the door. Alonso couldn’t help but observe the sway of her shapely hips. It’d been too long since he’d held on to curves like hers.

  “Put your tongue in. Ta-hee-hee. You handled that like a pro. Don’t know how to handle a woman who doesn’t fall at your feet, huh?”

  Alonso chuckled. “Look here, old man, you just focus on getting better and not my effect on women.”

  “Old man? Don’t make me get out of this bed and show you an old man. Old man, my ass.”

  Alonso laughed. The only thing Hamilton hated more than being told what to do was being called old. After a few moments of laughter, Alonso sobered. Pulling the cushioned chair bedside, he eased into it. “We need to talk, Ham,” he said, using the nickname he’d called Hamilton for years.

  “Uh-oh. I know where this is going.”

  Alonso was sure he sounded like a broken record. He’d had the same conversation with Hamilton numerous times. But now, things were different. “The streets are no good for you.”

  “I can take care of myself. Been doing it for years. Even saved your ass a time or two.”

  Truth. Alonso’s thoughts drifted seventeen years into the past, to the night he was sure Hamilton referred to. The night Hamilton had saved him from being stabbed to death. The night that had anchored the two men for life, as far as Alonso was concerned. The night—even after all these years—that still occasionally woke him in a cold sweat.

  Like a phantom, Hamilton had appeared in the dark alley just in time. After subduing two of the three thugs, he’d rushed the third. Unfortunately, not before the guy had stabbed Alonso. Alonso unconsciously smoothed a hand down his side. He still wore the jagged scar of that horrific night. Yeah, he owed Hamilton his life.

  Alonso brushed a hand over his head. “Things have changed, Ham. You’re—”

  “Things like what?”

  “Your health for one.” Alonso chastised himself for the raised tone. Hamilton turned onto his side, and Alonso was forced to stare at his back. “Ham, when I got the call you’d been found unconscious and rushed to the hospital—” A sinking feeling rushed over Alonso, forcing him to pause. Gathering himself, he continued, “I thought you were dead. It scared the hell out of me.” It was the call he’d dreaded receiving ever since he’d given Hamilton a cell phone and stored his number as the emergency contact. Alonso dropped his head. In a muted tone, he repeated, “It scared the hell out of me.”

  Hamilton faced him again, a smile curling his chapped lips. “I love you, too, young buck. Don’t worry ’bout me. It’ll take more than high blood sugar to take me out.”

  It was always the more Alonso worried about. Alonso rested his elbow on his thighs and eyed the man. Hamilton was his late grandfather reincarnated—stubborn, overly independent and reluctant to accept help from anyone...including him. Yep, Hamilton reminded him so much of the man who’d raised him. Perhaps that was why he felt so attached to him. So damn tenacious.

  “You better not let that one slip away,” Hamilton said.

  Alonso shot him a don’t-start-with-me expression.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I sensed the attraction between the two of you. Thought I was gon’ catch fire from those licking flames.”

  Attraction was a stretch. Alonso shot a quick glance at the door. Shouldn’t she be back by now? He set his sights on Ham again. “Quit trying to change the subject.”

  “Quit sounding like a broken record.”

  Alonso’s phone chimed, indicating an incoming message. He fished it from his pocket but turned his attention back to Hamilton before checking it. “It’s time, Ham. An apartment, a condo, a house, I’ll get you whatever you want. I just need you off the streets. Don’t make me beg.”

  Hamilton eyed him long and hard. “Well, if it’ll get you to stop hounding me...I’ll consider it.”

  Alonso clapped Hamilton’s shoulder, then checked the reminder message from his assistant. Shit. He’d forgotten all about his appointment with Vivian Moore. Trying to get that damn woman’s house was going to prematurely gray him. At thirty-seven, he was too young to be a silver fox.

  The one-o’clock appointment should still be doable. If the doctor ever decides to make an appearance. He checked his watch. At eleven in the morning, he was cutting it close. Maybe he should reschedule while there was still plenty of time to do so. Keying a message to his assistant to contact Ms. Moore with his regrets and to reschedule, he stuffed the device back into his pocket.

  And speaking of appearances... He shot another glance at the door. Where in the hell did she have to go for the bottle of water?

  As if his words had summoned her, she strolled in. Their eyes met again in that heated way that seemed to have become customary with them. His heartbeat quickened. What the hell was that? He cleared his throat, then broke their connection.

  She placed Hamilton’s water on the small table next to the bed. Resting her thin hand on his forearm, she said, “All right, Hamilton. If you need anything, just buzz the desk.” Her eyes found Alonso’s. “And I’ll instruct them to page me immediately.” Focus back on Hamilton, she continued, “The doctor should be in shortly. Hopefully after his visit you’ll be outta here to enjoy this beautiful weather.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart. You’re a jewel. No one with good sense would let you slip away.”

  Alonso breathed a sigh of relief when Hamilton didn’t look in his direction. The man had embarrassed him enough for one day. Before the nurse made it out of the room, Alonso was out of his chair. He owed her an apology.

  “Excuse me.” She stopped, but didn’t turn to face him. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name—”

  She swiveled to face him. “Busy.”

  The temperature in the room dropped about twenty degrees. Obviously she still held a slight grudge.

  Her gaze drifted past him momentarily to Hamilton. “He’s going to be okay.”

  A blink later, she was gone. But only from the room, because the spirited nurse still lingered in Alonso’s thoughts.

  Chapter 3

  Vivian cracked her window to get some fresh air. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open. The ER had been busier than she’d experienced in months. Definitely not typical for a Tuesday.

  A shift that should have ended at seven in the morning hadn’t ended until ten. Then she’d had to rush home, change clothes and dart across town. If she’d had any sense at all, she would have canceled the appointment with Mr. Wright.

  It wasn’t like he hadn’t canceled on her a week ago, citing a family emergency. Yeah, right. He’d probably flown off to some exotic island with his mistress. Obviously money wasn’t a problem since he seemed to like sending people unsolicited checks.

  Men.

  At the mention of men, her thoughts floated to one man in particular. The one she’d thought about for the past week. Hamilton’s...guardian, she guessed would be an appropriate term. She no longer thought of him as Tempered Chocolate. Tempered Chocolate suited a more delectable individual. His inexcusable attack on her was anything but appetizing.

  “Did he really think he could tell me how to do a job I’ve performed for twelve years?”

  The nerve of him.

  A wave of frustration rippled through her. Oh, she’d wanted so badly to tear into him. Thankfully, her grandmother had taught her not to waste her words on people who didn’t deserve her attention. Then there was the small issue of needing her job.

  She had to admit, overhearing—kinda eavesdropping on—the conversation he’d been having with Hamilton about getting off the street redeemed him a little. While he’d been an ass to her, he’d seemed to genuinely care about Hamilton.

  How’d the two know each other? Judging by the tailored suit and expensive shoes, he didn’t strike her as someone
who favored the homeless. Ugh. There you go judging people again. Her grandmother would have been disappointed.

  A reel of her Nina—the name she’d dubbed her spirited grandmother—played in her head. “God, I miss you.”

  She parked a little more than a block from her favorite Mexican restaurant, where she’d agreed to meet Alonso Wright. In and out, she reminded herself as she reached for the door handle of her Toyota Avalon, but not before double-checking to make sure she hadn’t forgotten the envelope containing the check from Wright Developing. Apparently, Mr. Wright assumed all the zeros would tempt her. Well, he was about to find out his money couldn’t buy everything.

  As she strolled down Blount Street, Vivian was glad she’d worn the flat sandals. A good call. The one thing downtown Raleigh could really use more of was parking. She didn’t mind the trek, though. The temperature was a comfortable eighty-three degrees.

  There were a hundred other things she could have been doing—namely sleeping—instead of wasting her time telling Mr. Wright the same thing she’d told him five times previously.

  In and out.

  Checking her watch, she saw she was twenty minutes early for the 11:45 meeting. The second she ambled into the restaurant, the delicious aroma of sizzling fajitas invaded her nostrils. Her stomach growled, reminding her she’d skipped breakfast...again.

  By the number of meals she’d missed working in the ER, she should be no more than a hundred pounds. Not the hundred and forty-three she proudly flaunted.

  “Hola, Vivian.”

  At the sound of her name, Vivian turned to see Hector, the proprietor of Caliente Mexicana, approaching her. Hector was a little shy of five feet and round as a whiskey barrel. But what he lacked in appearance, he made up for in personality. Over the four years she’d been a patron there, she’d gotten to know the sixty-year-old well. “Hola, Hector. Cómo estás?”

  “Muy bien. Y tu?”

  “Muy agotado.” A look of distress spread across Hector’s face, and Vivian knew it was genuine concern.