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 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.