Lisa Watson - Love Contract

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 dinner. 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!