Lisa Watson - Love Contract

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 mother 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.

“Honey, believe me I was only thinking of your company when I sent Milán to you. I know how hard it’s been for anyone trying to make a living in the housing market these days. Besides, you’re always so stressed out about that Ludlow man getting one up on you.”

“I’m not stressed,” he refuted.

“Call it what you will,” she continued. “The point is I saw a perfect opportunity to help you so I took it. And if you’ll recall, since Justin got married last year—to the blind date that I had arranged for you by the way—”

“I was there, Mom, remember?”

“Like I was saying,” she elevated her voice and pressed on. “I may have set you up on a date or two since then, but I’ve respected your right to find your own wife. No matter how long and drawn out that process seems to be,” she added. “What I don’t understand is why you’re so against my choices—or yours for that matter. You date someone once or a few times and then poof. They vanish into thin air. Everyone’s been kicked in the teeth by love, son. The trick is to get back on that horse and gallop.”

Adrian stared at his mother. “It’s not that I’m against marriage or a serious commitment. I envision myself with a wife one day, but I refuse to enter into another long-term relationship without knowing exactly what I’m dealing with. I won’t make that mistake again. Ever.”

She shook her head. “I might as well resign myself to the fact that sooner or later I’ll have to rent some grandbabies.”

He snorted. “Now who’s being dramatic?”

As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. That matchmaking scheme his mother had set in motion had forced him to stand up his blind date, Sabrina Ridgemont, in an effort to teach his mother a lesson. Unbeknownst to Adrian at the time, his best friend, Justin Langley, had gone to break the date, in person. Through a series of events, Justin had led Sabrina to believe he was Adrian. The fiasco that ensued gave Adrian a headache just thinking about it. Fortunately, the outcome was what mattered. The truth had come out eventually, and despite a rocky start, Justin and Sabrina were now happily married. Thanks to Norma Jean and her machinations.

“Okay,” he conceded. “I apologize for jumping to conclusions about your friend. Now can we change the subject? It’s true, I would like a designer on staff to give my clients’ homes an edge, but I doubt Milán Dixon will be the one.”

“Oh?” his mother queried. “I don’t see why not. She’s perfect.”

She is most definitely perfect. Suddenly, Adrian looked uncomfortable. “Because I screwed up big time. I thought... Suffice it to say, when I saw her, I assumed you were up to business as usual and that it wasn’t a real interview. I let her know point-blank what I thought of her—and your interference.”

“Adrian,” his mother gasped. “Tell me you didn’t embarrass me.”

He recalled the scene in his office. “You don’t know the half of it,” he mumbled.

Norma Jean shifted in her chair. “Now I raised you better than that.”

He held his hands up in front of him. “Please, no sermon. I’ve already been properly chastised today—in two languages.”

“Well good.” She nodded approvingly. “You deserved it. I recall her telling me that she was bilingual. What language does she speak?”

“Is that relevant?”

His mother arched her eyebrow.

“Spanish,” he grumbled. “She speaks Spanish.”

Humph. “You learned the language to increase your client base. This would have been a perfect arrangement. If you ask me—”

“I didn’t.”

“You got off light,” she finished. “I can’t believe you botched the meeting. You need to call her and apologize.”

“I tried.”

“And?”

“And, as soon as I told her who I was, she hung up.”

“Serves you right, but you have to try again.”

“Mom, she knows my phone number now. The next time she won’t even bother to pick it up.” He eyed his mother. “Unless...you can—”

“Forget it. You messed this up, now you’re going to find a way to fix it. I’m not bailing you out.”

Adrian’s eyes bugged out. “Need I remind you that you were the one that put me in this position to begin with?”