Love Contract (The Match Broker) Read online

  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 dinne
r. 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 m
other 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.