In the Market for Love

by Joy Avery

  Alonso folded his arms across his chest and rocked back and forth on his heels. “Well, I guess I was wrong.”

  “I’m sure that was hard for you to admit, being wrong, but it happens to the best of us.” Oh, she would sacrifice a limb to know what raced through his head at the moment. The roguish expression on his face made the possibilities endless.

  “About that dinner?”

  He was a persistent one. She scrutinized him. What kind of game are you playing, Alonso Wright? Clearly, this was some elaborate scheme he’d cooked up in an attempt to persuade her to change her mind about selling the house. She’d played the fool once for a man, but wouldn’t again. This time she would wield the upper hand and beat him at whatever diversion he’d crafted. “Okay.”

  Alonso’s brow arched in what she took to be surprise. Had he expected to have to put up more of a fight? He wasn’t the only astonished one. Typically, she wasn’t one to play games, but he made the challenge so damn appealing. Maybe she should have made him work a little harder.

  “Okay?” Alonso said, his words dripping with uncertainty.

  “Yes, okay. Unless you’ve already changed your mind.” She mimicked his folded-arm stance. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

  “Hell, no.”

  She bit back a smile. “Good.”

  “My best friend plays at a jazz club in downtown. The food is amazing. But we can do whatever you’d like.”

  What she’d like to do was definitely not an option. “I love jazz, actually.”

  “I know.”

  “How—”

  He touched the charm bracelet she wore, grasping the sterling silver saxophone between his fingers. “Details.”

  She couldn’t recall a man ever paying this much attention to detail. Her arms fell to her sides, not wanting to risk another wave of sensation like what had crashed through her earlier.

  They spent the next few minutes making plans. The upcoming weekend was no good for either of them, so they scheduled for the following Friday.

  Vivian checked her watch. “I really should get back to work.”

  “Okay. I have to get going, too. I’m getting Hamilton settled into his new place.”

  “That’s great.” Vivian thought back to the conversation she’d overheard between him and Hamilton. Hamilton hadn’t sounded too interested, but apparently Alonso had changed his mind. If Alonso was that good at persuasion, maybe she should rethink this dinner thing. “How is Hamilton? No sodas, right?”

  Alonso chuckled. “He’s good. And no sodas.”

  She wasn’t sure she believed him about the soda part. “That’s good. That’s really good.” Things fell silent. What the hell was she doing? Why had she convinced herself any of this would be okay?

  “Hey. You okay?”

  Vivian snapped from her thoughts. Smiling, she said, “Yes. I was just thinking about how happy I am that Hamilton—” Her words trailed off seeing the wide grin on Alonso’s face. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “It’s something. What?”

  “I just like the way someone else’s fortune brings you happiness. It’s refreshing.”

  Something tender flashed in his eyes and for a brief moment, it blinded her to the fact she didn’t fully trust his motives. “I just like seeing people make changes for the better. Tell Hamilton I said hello.”

  “Will do.”

  Alonso sauntered away, leaving his manly scent behind for Vivian to appreciate. If she had any sense at all, she’d run far, far away from the man, instead of sprinting toward him.

  Chapter 5

  Heavy rain pelleted Vivian’s bedroom window, effects from the hurricane forming off the coast. This weather was unfit for anyone to venture out in. Her thoughts went to Hamilton. Thank God Alonso convinced him to get off the streets.

  Unfortunately, Hamilton was only one of many. The thought of anyone suffering through this storm saddened her. What soothed her was the fact that the homeless had unique ways of braving the elements.

  Lifting her cell phone from the nightstand, she scrolled through her contact list until coming to Alonso’s name. They’d have to reschedule their evening. She didn’t like driving in the rain, and even if she did, it would take an act of God to drag her from the dry comfort of her home.

  A wave of disappointment washed over her as the phone rang in her ear. Had she actually been looking forward to spending an evening with Alonso? She groaned. Yes, she had. All the more reason to cancel.

  Alonso answered on the fourth ring. At least she thought it was Alonso. The masculine voice on the opposite end was heavy. “Alonso?”

  “Hey.”

  “You didn’t sound like yourself.”

  “Sorry. I was on the treadmill. I’m a little winded.”

  An image of him bare chested and glistening played in her head. Shaking off the enticing visual, she refocused on the call. “Um, with the weather being so nasty, I think it’s best if we reschedule. I don’t drive—”

  “I’ll come to you. I really should be picking you up anyway, instead of you meeting me. That’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

  She’d suggested meeting him as a precaution. If by chance the night went horribly wrong, she’d have her own vehicle and could make a clean getaway. Him coming there? Probably not a good idea.

  “Even better,” he continued, “we don’t have to go out at all. I can pick something up. What do you say?”

  He seemed awfully determined to not allow her to cancel. Had he spent the past two weeks looking forward to this, too? The notion brought a hint of a smile to her lips. Make a decision, Vivian. Yes or no.

  “Um...okay. Sure, that’s fine.” What was it about this man that forced her to push all rational thinking aside?

  “Great. So...what would you like for me to pick up?”

  “You’re good with details. Surprise me.”

  “You should know I like a challenge. I’ll see you soon.”

  They ended the call and Vivian collapsed onto the bed, pulled a pillow over her face and pretended to smother herself. “What have you gotten yourself into, Vivian Gayle Moore? You know you should have said no. Hell, no, to be precise.”

  Well, at least the night could be beneficial. Once Alonso discovered they had absolutely nothing in common, he’d vanish from her life. But what if they did have things in common? It didn’t matter if they did. This wasn’t a love connection, she reminded herself.

  And how could they have anything in common? He’d probably never struggled a day in his life.

  She’d struggled plenty.

  He struck her as black-tie.

  She was definitely casual Friday.

  He was luxury.

  She was... Well, she was luxury, too, but in a certified preowned type of way.

  “Nope. Nothing at all in common.”

  Springing forward, she sat on the edge of the bed. One upside, she didn’t have to get all dolled up to sit in her living room. “Jeans and a T-shirt it is.”

  Thunder cracked, followed by several fingers of lightning that lit her bedroom, then more thunder. “Jesus.” When the lights flickered she went in search of candles. Just in case. She ignored the romantic value of a candlelit dinner with Alonso. “You are pathetic, Vivian Moore.”

  Two hours later, Vivian welcomed a drenched Alonso into her dimly lit home. “Good grief. You’re soaked.” As if he needed her to point that out to him. “Let me help you with those.” She took two of the four bags he carried.

  “It’s awfully cozy in here. I like it.”

  “The storm knocked out the power. What is all of this?” she asked, setting the bags on the coffee table.

  “Food from your favorite restaurant.”

  “My favorite
rest—” Just then, she saw the Caliente Mexicana logo. “How did—” She stopped abruptly.

  “Details,” they said in unison.

  Damn, he was good.

  “You and the owner of the restaurant seemed familiar, so I assumed you frequented the place. And if you frequented the place, it must be your favorite. At least one of them.”

  “Do you pay this close attention to everyone you meet?” She laughed, but sobered when she noted the stern expression on Alonso’s face.

  “No, I don’t.”

  Alonso’s eyes lowered to her mouth, and a warm sensation blossomed in her stomach. “Umm...let’s get you out of these wet clothes before you catch pneumonia.” A corner of his mouth lifted into a roguish smile, and she shook her head. “Whatever outlandish thoughts are racing through that head of yours, stop them.”

  He shrugged. “What? I just like the idea of you...”

  She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “...wanting to keep me healthy. You thought I was going to say ‘undressing me,’ didn’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Yeah, right.” He wagged his finger at her. “You should really get your mind out of the gutter.”

  Vivian bit back a smile, then sighed heavily for effect. “Follow me.”

  “Anywhere,” Alonso said with a wink.

  God, he was so full of it. As they moved down the hallway toward the laundry room, she envisioned peeling the wine-colored T-shirt from his soaking body, the heat of their desire causing the moisture on his chest to turn to steam. Then unbuttoning his jeans and inching them down his solid frame with unhurried anticipation.

  “Earth to Vivian.”

  She turned to face him, slamming into the brick of his chest. “Oh.” She stumbled a couple steps backward. Finding her equilibrium, she said, “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I asked how long the power has been out.” A quizzical expression slid across his face. “Are...you okay?”

  No, she wasn’t, but nodded anyway. “Yes. Uh...about half an hour.” She continued toward the laundry room. “I’m sure it’ll be on any second now.”

  “That would be unfortunate,” he said in a whisper.

  She wasn’t sure whether or not he’d intended her to hear him. Either way, she didn’t respond. “Here we are. I’ll step out while you—” Vivian gasped the second she turned, her eyes slamming into Alonso’s finely sculpted bare chest.

  Her eyes fixed on the display of all man in front of her. Smooth, chocolate, and a six-pack so defined that if she wasn’t seeing it for herself, she’d never have believed the description. She wanted to touch him. Wanted to touch him so desperately her fingertips tingled, along with other parts. If she’d been brave enough—or insane enough—she’d have walked right up to him and glided her eager fingers over every rock-hard inch of him.

  Her mouth went dry, then watered. Mesmerized, her eyes roamed over him—slowly, determinedly—like an inspector probing for damage. None that she could see. But then she saw the scar on his side. Her curiosity bloomed. It was a knife wound. Several years old, if she had to guess. How had he gotten it?

  “Are you checking me out?”

  Alonso’s humor-filled words snatched her back to reality. “What? No, I’m not checking you out. Psh.”

  “Liar.”

  Yes. Yes, she was a liar. And by the end of the night, this man would have her on the fast track to hell. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve seen better chests on stick figures.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, I think I’ll strip out of these pants, too. If that’s okay?”

  His pants? Alarm settled into the pit of her stomach. “Wh-wh-what?”

  “Don’t look so stunned. I’m only kidding.”

  Vivian released a sound that was somewhere between a laugh, a chuckle and a plea for help.

  “But for the record, I’m not bashful,” Alonso said.

  Vivian folded her arms across her chest, struggling to keep her eyes pinned to his. “I imagine no woman has ever tossed you out in the pouring rain before.”

  He smoothed two fingers along his jawline. Quit that, she inwardly scorned. A sexy chuckle floated past his lips as he flashed a palm in surrender. Vivian didn’t celebrate the win, because it would probably be the only battle she won all night.

  Chapter 6

  Finished with their meal, Alonso stretched his legs out to their full length on the carpeted floor. Instead of enjoying their meal in the kitchen, they’d set up buffet-style on the coffee table, eaten by candlelight and listened to old-school R & B on his cell phone.

  God, he was stuffed, which only made the two-sizes-too-small T-shirt Vivian had practically forced over his head that much more uncomfortable. And not to mention the sweatpants that had a death grip on his balls.

  In hindsight, maybe he should have kept on his drenched pants, instead of deciding at the last minute they should be laid out to dry, too.

  Normally, he would have never stepped into another man’s clothes, but he hadn’t wanted to appear ungrateful. Plus, he doubted Vivian could handle him sitting around in his birthday suit. Especially if the way she’d reacted to seeing him bare chested was any indication. Her eyes had fixed on the scar decorating his side. He was surprised she hadn’t asked about it.

  “Was your ex a gnome? I think this shirt is cutting off my circulation.”

  “He definitely wasn’t built as sturdily as you.”

  By the stunned expression on her face, he gathered she regretted allowing the words to slip past her lips. But why? He wasn’t oblivious to her attraction to him. And the feeling was definitely mutual.

  “What happened between you two, if you don’t mind me asking?” Vivian’s jaw tightened, then relaxed. If he had to guess, they hadn’t ended things on good terms. “You don’t have to answer that.” Though he hoped she would. Her reaction to the question piqued his curiosity.

  Had they grown apart? Had he cheated on her? Had she cheated on him? The latter seemed less likely. She didn’t strike him as the unfaithful type. He’d always been good at reading people. Especially women.

  “He stole from me.”

  Alonso assumed she meant money. What kind of coward stole from his woman? More questions came. Had the lowlife been jobless, living off Vivian? On drugs and in need of a fix?

  Vivian didn’t elaborate. Instead she sipped her wine and stared at the flickering candle flame. Observing her sadness, Alonso regretted making her revisit an apparently still-raw subject.

  “His loss is another man’s gain, right?” The words had been meant to soothe her, but something told him he’d missed the mark.

  “Alonso...” She paused. “I’m sure your charms work on most of the women you unleash them on, but I’m not one of them. This—” she fanned her hand over the spread of food “—all of this.” Her hands moved between them. “It doesn’t get you any closer to what you want.”

  “Huh.” He took a sip from his glass. “Tell me again what exactly it is you think I want.”

  “My house.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Her eyes lit with questions her mouth didn’t ask. No doubt his cryptic response had confused her and possibly intrigued her, too. Good. “So, how’d I do? With dinner, I mean.”

  It took her a minute to answer, the perplexed expression melting from her face. “Like you said, it’s my favorite restaurant.”

  He wanted to let Vivian’s earlier comment go, but for some reason it gnawed at him. Shifting toward her, he said, “You do know that two people can enjoy a meal together without one wanting something from the other, right?”

  “Yes. But I also know people rarely do anything without wanting or expecting something in return.”

  Well, he couldn’t argue with that. “Tonight, this moment, I want absolutely no
thing from you. A meal is just a meal. No strings attached.”

  This time he was the liar, because he did want something from her, in the worst way imaginable. He wanted to crush his mouth against those beautiful lips he’d fantasized about all night. He wanted to drag his tongue down the length of her torso, making her shiver with anticipation. He wanted to stare into those mesmerizing eyes as he pushed deep inside of her. Wanted to hear her cry out in ecstasy.

  Vivian tilted her head to the side and eyed him. It took everything inside of him to not lean forward and capture her mouth.

  “We’ll see,” she finally said.

  Why did he get the feeling he’d been defeated but just didn’t know it yet?

  “Would you like some coffee?”

  Vivian’s words drew him away from his paralyzing thoughts. “No. I hate coffee. Yuck.”

  She pushed her fingertips into her chest. “You don’t like coffee? Oh, we can’t be friends.”

  They shared a bout of much-needed laughter. Things took on a more relaxed tone.

  Alonso bent one knee. “When I was ten, I thought I was the man.”

  “Like now?”

  They shared another round of laughter.

  “I’m sorry. Go on,” she said.

  “Like I was saying before I was rudely interrupted...” He bumped her playfully. “I took a huge swig from my grandfather’s mug. Ten seconds after I swallowed the tar, I threw up all over the kitchen floor. I haven’t touched the stuff since.”

  “Ah. Now it makes sense. Well, for my sixteenth birthday, my grandmother gave me my very own old-school percolator. My mother was not happy. She didn’t like the idea of me drinking coffee. But who argues with grandparents?”

  “No one,” he said, his thoughts shifting to his grandfather.

  “I remember at my sweet sixteen party I made all of my friends coffee to go along with their cake. Most of them were like you and hated it. But I think that’s because I wasn’t as good at making it then as I am now.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure that was it.”

  “When my grandmother passed, I never used the percolator again.”