Joy Avery - In The Market For Love

“Obviously there’s something about you he’s drawn to, as well.”

“Yeah, there is. It’s called business. I have something he wants, remember?”

“Oh, you have something he wants all right and something tells me it has very little to do with business. Him brushing crumbs from your cheek. Calling to make sure you got home safe after your lunch meeting. Uh...that doesn’t sound like any business practices I’ve ever heard of. Sounds personal to me. Really personal. Romantic, even. You two are like a happily-ever-after just waiting to happen.”

Vivian glared at her starry-eyed friend. “You think that because you’re a female Cupid. Always floating around shooting arrows in people’s asses. Everything to you is romantic.”

Tressa laughed. “Maybe. But you have to admit, it feels good to be chased, right? Gotta love a determined man.”

“I’m not being chased, and this isn’t determination. It’s borderline harassment.”

Tressa reached across and snagged one of Vivian’s strawberries. “Are you attracted to him?”

“No.”

“Bullshit. You’re doing that thing.”

That thing? Vivian’s brow furrowed. “What thing?”

Tressa pointed to Vivian’s hand. “That thing you do when you’re lying or nervous. Tangling your fingers together.”

Did she really? Vivian eased her hands into her lap. “Okay. Maybe a little.” Tressa shot her a narrow-eyed gaze that screamed: Liar, liar pants on fire. Dammit. The woman could read her like a book. “Okay, okay. Maybe a lotta.” She groaned. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m not trying to reel him in. I’m trying to toss him back. Besides, he wants my house, not me.”

“What if I’m right and he does want you? Then what?”

Vivian glanced away briefly. “I don’t think I’ll ever trust a man again. Not after...” Vivian refused to say the bastard’s name. “I’m not willing to sacrifice any more pieces of myself, or my heart.”

A somber expression spread across Tressa’s face. “That lowlife you dated was just one row of sour grapes. Don’t let his inability to be a man taint the entire vineyard. Who knows, this Alonso Wright could be the one you’re destined to stomp grapes with.”

Vivian burst out laughing. The serious expression on Tressa’s face made her laugh even harder.

“I’m being serious here, Vi.”

A failed attempt at composing herself earned Vivian a scowl from Tressa. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that your analogies crack me up. So poetic, yet so...hilarious, at times.”

Tressa dismissed her with a wave of the hand. “Anyway...”

“Can we talk about something other than my lacking love life? Everyone can’t be as blissfully happy as you and your dynamic fiancé.”

A wide smile crept across Tressa’s face as she eyed the engagement ring she’d recently been given. A small part of Vivian envied the happiness Tressa had found—even if she wasn’t overly fond of her fiancé and thought Tressa might be moving just a little too fast. But a larger part was overjoyed for her. She deserved all the happiness she could handle. She was a good person, but more important, an amazing friend. Vivian cherished their relationship.

Tressa bit into another carrot. “Maybe you should consider selling, Vi.”

Tressa’s words snatched Vivian from her thoughts. Vivian shot Tressa a razor-sharp glance. Of all people, Tressa knew how much that house meant to her. “Excuse me?”

Tressa flashed her palms in mock surrender. “Before you slice me in half with that look of death, just hear me out. A year ago, I would have been the first to say let him take that three hundred thousand and stick it up his bleep.” Tressa’s tone softened. “But, sweetie, that was before Tyler—the spineless bastard—ran off with all the money you’d saved to renovate the place.”

Tyler. Even thinking her ex’s name boiled the blood in her veins. Her hand tightened into a fist as anger swelled inside her. How’d she ever fall for a con man like him? She answered a moment later. Because I let my guard down. And because of it, The Irma Moore House—named after her grandmother—she’d intended to open for homeless families had suffered.

Vivian’s eyes lowered to the pimento cheese sandwich she no longer wanted. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it.” Many times. But there was no better way to honor her Nina—a woman who’d given selflessly to others all of her life—than by converting the house she’d loved into something steeped in love.

Tressa touched her hand. “Vi, are you okay?”

Vivian glanced up, pasting a forced smile on her face. “Yeah, I’m good.” She didn’t care how much Alonso Wright offered her. She didn’t want one red cent of his money. Wanting him...now, that was a different story.

“You should—”

Tressa’s eyes went big. The expression on her face—a mix of surprise and caution—forced Vivian to turn to see what had her so stunned. The second her eyes landed on Alonso, her pulse quickened. What in the hell was he doing there?

Vivian’s eyes raked the length of his lofty physique. The black T-shirt he wore revealed more of his chiseled frame than she’d seen during either of their previous encounters. The relaxed-fit jeans drew her attention to his lower half, which was just as impressive as the upper. Was there any piece of clothing he didn’t look scrumptious wearing?

Finding his eyes—and her breath—she stood. “What are you doing here?”

He neared her, holding a bunch of fresh tulips. “You’re ignoring me, and I wanted to know why.” He shrugged. “So I thought I’d ask.”

The closer he got the warmer the room grew. If he took one more step, she’d suffer heatstroke. “I—I’m not ignoring you. I just wasn’t aware there was anything left to discuss.” He flashed a half smile packed with so much sexiness and beautiful mischief she tingled all over.

“Um, I should get back on the floor.”

Shit. With Alonso’s presence, Vivian had forgotten Tressa was even in the room. His eyes lingered a moment more on Vivian before sliding to Tressa.

“Don’t let me rush you off,” he said.

“I have things to do.” Tressa stuck out her hand. “I’m Tressa Washington. Vivian’s best friend.”

Alonso took Tressa’s hand. “Alonso Wright. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too. Do you believe in destiny?”

“Tressa!” Vivian forced through clenched teeth. When Alonso flashed her a quizzical expression, she sputtered a nervous laugh.

“I have to go.” Tressa reclaimed her hand and disappeared from the room.

God, she was going to kill that woman.

Alonso chuckled. “She sure is interesting.”

And a dead woman.

An awkward silence played between them. Alonso’s eyes combed slowly over her face. When they lowered to her mouth, a bout of nerves shook her. In an effort to thwart the effects of his gaze, she said, “So...” Alonso’s eyes jerked upward as if her words had startled him.

“These are for you. Tulips.” He pushed the vibrant flowers toward her. “Your favorite.”

Yes, they were, but how did he know tulips were her favorite? Was he stalking her? Apparently, he read the questioning on her face.

“I pay attention to details. It makes me good at what I do.”

He captured her hand and flipped it palm-side up, then smoothed the pad of his thumb across the single red tulip tattooed on her wrist. The sensation of his warm touch and delicate stroke ignited her entire body. Her nipples beaded in her bra and she prayed it wasn’t pronounced enough that Alonso would notice. She was afraid to look.

Reclaiming her hand, she said, “Thank you. They were my grandmother’s favorite. Mine, too,” she said as if he didn’t already know that.