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In The Market For Love
Joy Avery


Every passion has its priceThe devastatingly attractive stranger who walks into Tender Hearts Memorial Hospital instantly raises red flags for Vivian Moore. The ER nurse’s worst fears are confirmed when she discovers who he is: The real estate developer rumored to be snatching up many of the properties in her old neighborhood. And Vivian is sure his passionate pursuit is just a front for the prize Alonso Wright is really after–her beloved childhood home.Alonso is committed to building a community events center that will be a lasting monument to his grandfather’s memory. The only thing keeping him from fulfilling his dream is the compassionate, guarded beauty who refuses to negotiate. If he fails, Alonso stands to lose a significant investment. But once he gives into his desire for Vivian, he could lose something far more precious. As a hurricane batters the North Carolina coast, an unscrupulous business associate threatens to derail Alonso’s future that now means nothing without Vivian to share it with him…







Every passion has its price

The devastatingly attractive stranger who walks into Tender Hearts Memorial Hospital instantly raises red flags for Vivian Moore. The ER nurse’s worst fears are confirmed when she discovers who he is: the real estate developer rumored to be snatching up many of the properties in her old neighborhood. And Vivian is sure his passionate pursuit is just a front for the prize Alonso Wright is really after—her beloved childhood home.

Alonso is committed to building a community-events center that will be a lasting monument to his grandfather’s memory. The only thing keeping him from fulfilling his dream is the compassionate, guarded beauty who refuses to negotiate. If he fails, Alonso stands to lose a significant investment. But once he gives in to his desire for Vivian, he could lose something far more precious. As a hurricane batters the North Carolina coast, an unscrupulous business associate threatens to derail Alonso’s future, which now means nothing without Vivian to share it with him...


Vivian’s breath seized in her chest from the sheer sincerity she witnessed in Alonso’s eyes. Swallowing hard, she did her best to retain some semblance of control.

“You’re afraid,” he continued. “You’re afraid of this thing we have going on.” He cradled her face between his hands. “This wild, insane, all-consuming energy we generate. You don’t trust it. You don’t trust it because you don’t trust me. But that’s okay. You will.”

“Always the businessman. Say what you need to to get what you want.”

“I want you. I want you,” he repeated as if she hadn’t heard him the first two times. “I’ve never wanted anything or anyone more. Tell me you don’t want me, too.”

“I don’t—”

“Liar. You want me just as much as I want you.”

His hands slid to her neck and he pulled her mouth closer to his, but instead of kissing her—something she shamelessly craved—he spoke in a gentle tone against her lips.

“You want me. You want me to kiss you until you’re breathless.”

“I don’t.” Though the longing in her tone suggested otherwise.


Dear Reader (#u48fe93d3-88f0-5217-824e-41c3dc2a6cef),

Thank you so much for purchasing my debut Harlequin Kimani Romance title, In the Market for Love. I’m superexcited for you to meet Alonso Wright and Vivian Moore. These two spark a flame that blazes a path toward happily-ever-after; however, there are a few bumps along the way.

Alonso doesn’t want to admit he’s met his match in Vivian, but she can turn his world upside down with a simple glance. Like most powerful men, Alonso believes money can buy anything. But Vivian will show him love is free.

Like the tagline says: every passion has its price.

I hope you enjoy Alonso and Vivian’s love story and that their journey toward happiness tickles your heart, touches your emotions and warms your soul.

Thank you for supporting me!

Love and light,

Joy

PS: I love hearing from readers. Email me at authorjoyavery@gmail.com.


In the Market for Love

Joy Avery






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


By day, JOY AVERY works as a customer-service assistant. By night, the North Carolina native travels to imaginary worlds, creating characters whose romantic journeys invariably end happily-ever-after.

Since she was a young girl growing up in Garner, Joy knew she wanted to write. Stumbling onto romance novels, she discovered her passion for love stories and instantly knew those were the type of stories she wanted to pen.

Joy is married with one child. When not writing, she enjoys reading, cake decorating, pretending to expertly play the piano, driving her husband insane and playing with her two dogs.


Dedicated to the dream.

Acknowledgments

To Marcus:

Thank you for your unwavering support and your patience and understanding when I switch into writerzilla mode.

To Avion:

Thank you for the random sticky notes of encouragement placed around my writing room.

To Paula, aka Lyla Dune:

Thank you for being an awesome critique partner.

To my readers, my tribe, my street team:

What can I say? You guys totally rock and totally roll. Your support is amazing! I appreciate each and every one of you. From the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU! Thank you for your support! Thank you for your wonderful emails and messages. Thank you for your encouragement. Thank you for believing in my love stories and sharing your love for Joy Avery romances with the world.

To my friends and family:

Thank you for your support!


Contents

Cover (#u9c37a523-033a-5b36-b790-e395b3dc3034)

Back Cover Text (#u661d39c2-caad-5e76-9e60-006f49bf5ee8)

Introduction (#ubc42fcfb-d894-517c-a616-da17a05061c3)

Dear Reader (#u17418951-4ba3-5379-8243-4588ac8c2202)

Title Page (#uf1356fc9-15f7-56ba-b7f1-7aa13f12fe6a)

About the Author (#u8ff46a11-3cc7-5013-84d2-e92dde30263a)

Dedication (#ufa4a76dc-65cd-5525-a196-9ff505b66597)

Chapter 1 (#u01fdbb8a-29c8-5ba0-abd7-c9e8693896c3)

Chapter 2 (#u26b5982c-6d12-5d7a-bf9d-fe0ea1ac262a)

Chapter 3 (#u6918737b-1934-5de9-a773-46c198493016)

Chapter 4 (#uf1585e0c-c50e-5df8-97c0-ddb1af6a3505)

Chapter 5 (#u2635676b-0440-52ab-84ea-77d233d0478d)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter 1 (#u48fe93d3-88f0-5217-824e-41c3dc2a6cef)

Vivian Moore stood at the nurses’ station inside Raleigh’s Tender Hearts Memorial Hospital, where she’d worked for the past six years, pecking away at the tablet she’d been issued. The newly implemented “convenience” hadn’t turned out to be the inconvenience she’d originally assumed it would be, after all. A point for the home team.

Tuning out the beeping, chiming and chatter swirling around her, she focused on entering the vitals for her last patient of the day. The last patient of the day. The thought made her smile. Unfortunately, instead of going home, climbing into bed and sleeping for three days straight, she had to meet with a persistent real estate developer who couldn’t seem to take no for an answer over the phone. Hopefully, face-to-face will do the trick.

“Vi?”

Only one person ever addressed her by the shortened name—her best friend and fellow ER nurse, Tressa. Vivian turned to see Tressa hurrying toward her, jet-black locks bouncing with each step the petite woman took.

By the expression on Tressa’s soft brown face, she’d experienced the unexplainable. Vivian grew concerned. The last time Tressa donned such a look, she’d been socked in the jaw by a disgruntled patient. Well, she wasn’t crying. That was a good sign, right?

Vivian pushed her tablet aside. “What’s wrong?”

For a second or two, Tressa stood speechless but finally snapped out of her stupor. “I just saw him. And he is fine. I mean, capital-F fine.” Her eyes did a dreamy flutter. “And chocolate. Deliciously chocolate. Mmm.”

By him, Vivian had no doubt she referred to the drop-dead gorgeous man rumored to be roaming the halls earlier. Uninterested had been Vivian’s feeling, but if the man’s looks had the ability to render Tressa speechless—a task not easily accomplished—then maybe he just might be worthy of all the whispers that had burned through the halls like a wildfire.

Though initially apathetic, she had to admit she was a little curious, until an image of her trifling ex flashed in her head. Her jaw tightened at the mere thought of the man—dog—no-good bastard. If he’d taught her anything, it’d been to never trust a handsome face.

Adopting her previous state of disinterest, Vivian returned her attention to the tablet. But Tressa had other plans for her attention, hooking her arm around Vivian’s and venturing down the brightly lit corridor. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“I have work to do, Tress.”

“Trust me, this will be well worth the brief distraction.”

“I don’t—” Vivian stopped abruptly with Tressa directing her attention to the statue of a man several feet away, a cell phone pinned to his ear.

Vivian’s eyes raked over his well-put-together body. Six-three, two twenty-five. A calculated guess, but she would wager she was spot-on. His skin was as smooth and dark as the tempered chocolate used on a sinful-desserts show she’d watched earlier that week. Both stirred her hunger, but for totally different reasons.

“You were saying?”

If Vivian had to guess, Tressa was standing with her arms folded across her chest and a smirk on her face. Unfortunately gravity, the universe, lust—she didn’t know which—wouldn’t allow her to pull her eyes away from him to verify.

The way the navy blue suit pants fit his toned lower half, there could be no disputing they’d been custom tailored just for him. Allowing her eyes to roam a bit higher, she fixed on the mound that bulged at his biceps when he bent his arm to massage his neatly groomed beard with two long fingers.

Even with an obstructed view of what lay beneath the crisp blue-and-white pin-striped shirt, she had a good idea it could make her knees knock. Her gaze trailed over his wide shoulders. Never again would she look at suspenders as an old man’s accessory.

If by some foolish chance she’d forgotten it’d been close to a year since she’d had sex, the way her body was currently responding would have instantly reminded her. A searing heat—having nothing to do with the June temperature—blossomed in her cheeks, flowed down her body and settled right between her legs.

“Oh, my God, did you just moan?”

Tressa’s words snapped Vivian out of her trancelike stare. Vivian shifted toward Tressa. “No—” She cleared her throat. “No, I didn’t moan.” Had she? With her arms across her chest—just as Vivian had guessed—Tressa flashed her a do-I-look-dumb-to-you expression.

Vivian sighed and rolled her eyes away, inadvertently—or intentionally, at this point, she didn’t know—landing back on him again. God, you are one good-looking man. I bet you are all types of trouble. Had Tressa really labeled him a brief distraction? There was nothing brief about this man. His entire presence screamed prolonged.

“Ahem.”

The sound coming from behind them made every muscle in Vivian’s body seize. Only one person in the entire hospital had that effect on her. Ms. Kasetta. Busted. They both turned slowly to face Tender Hearts’s most stern ER charge nurse.

“Good morning, Ms. Kasetta,” said Vivian.

Tressa echoed the greeting.

Ms. Kasetta stood with her hands clasped behind her back, donning her usual tight scowl. Vivian couldn’t recall ever seeing the woman smile. Many joked she’d been there since Tender Hearts was founded sixty years ago. The woman may have been hard-nosed, but no one garnered more respect or kept the ER running as flawlessly as she did.

Ms. Kasetta gave a staunch nod. “Ms. Moore. Ms. Washington.”

When Ms. Kasetta’s eyes roamed past them, Vivian didn’t need to follow her stare to know where her gaze had settled, because something in her firm expression softened. Obviously she’d experienced the heat wave, too. Vivian bit back the smile that twitched at the corners of her mouth.

A beat later, Ms. Kasetta’s attention returned to them. “Ms. Moore, where’s your name badge?”

Shit. Vivian touched the bare spot her badge usually occupied. “I...must have left it in my locker. I’ll get it now.”

“See that you do.”

Ms. Kasetta sent one more glance in Tempered Chocolate’s direction, then was off.

Tressa exhaled as if she’d been holding her breath the entire time. “That woman scares the hell out of me.”

Vivian eyed the direction Ms. Kasetta had traveled. “She scares the hell out of everyone.”

Tressa performed an animated shiver. “I have to get back to work before Dragon Lady sets me ablaze. You can thank me later.”

Vivian shook her head as her friend ambled away. Thank her? More like strangle her for ever introducing me to this mayhem. Unable to resist, she dared one last look at Tempered Chocolate.

If the way he paced back and forth and ran his hand over his head was any indication, the call was not going so well. Who was he here to see? Probably a girlfriend or wife. Didn’t really matter. To her, he was just something good to look at.

And as if he sensed Vivian’s eyes locked to him, he glanced in her direction. She gasped from the unexpected connection. The phone lowered from his ear, but then eased back. All she could do was continue to dumbly ogle him.

Their eyes held for what she’d label an eternity. Had her feet not been rooted to the industrial tile, she would have darted away. Luckily, the blaring ding that always preceded an overhead announcement sounded, jolting her from the paralyzed state. Hurrying away, she escaped to the locker room to retrieve her badge and decompress.

Inside the dimly lit room, Vivian searched everywhere: her gym bag, her purse, the floor. No badge. She was certain she’d packed it. Well, almost certain. Finally settling on the fact the badge was MIA she tossed her head back and released an audible sigh.

The thought of the judgmental look Ms. Kasetta would undoubtedly toss her once she confessed she’d lost yet another badge made Vivian sigh even more heavily. Maybe she could make it to human resources and have one printed before she ran into the daunting woman again.

Vivian dug into her wallet for a twenty. It was no secret the implementation of the fee for replacement badges was a result of her inability to keep up with the dreaded thing.

The locker room door swung open, and Vivian jolted. Her coworker Gemma rushed inside.

“Oh, thank goodness. I found you.”

Vivian was afraid to ask why the woman sought her. Whatever the reason, it undoubtedly meant more work for Vivian. “What can I do for you?” The question of doom.

“Can you take my patient in bay fourteen? Please, please, please. He’s homeless, and you’re good with them. And he smells. The stench never seems to bother you.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “You know I’m pregnant. I can’t take the odor. I’d throw up everywhere. It wouldn’t be professional to throw up on a patient. I’ll owe you lots and lots. Anything. Any—”

Vivian flashed her palm to pause an anxious Gemma. Four years in North Carolina and the woman still had the deepest New Orleans accent. It seemed to grow deeper whenever she got excited—like now.

“Calm down, momma. I’ll do it.” So much for last patient of the day. Vivian rested her hand on Gemma’s not-yet-protruding stomach. “All this excitement is no good for the baby.”

“I know. I just get so overwhelmed sometimes. You’re a lifesaver, Vivian. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Tears clouded Gemma’s eyes. Pregnancy had turned the usually take-no-prisoners woman into a bundle of emotions. Vivian truly didn’t mind. With her work at the homeless shelter and time spent volunteering at the soup kitchen, plus working in a hospital setting, she’d become nose blind to most odors.

Rubbing Gemma’s shoulders, she said, “You know I’ve got your back, girl. Stay here and get yourself together. I’ll be in to check on you once I’m done. Okay?”

A crimson-faced Gemma nodded and rubbed at her eyes.

Outside the locker room, Vivian sighed. She honestly felt sympathy for the woman. Once her boyfriend had learned she was pregnant, he’d taken off and left her. What in the hell is wrong with men these days?

Unlike most hospitals, Tender Hearts’s “bays” were actual rooms and not the customary dismal curtains that separated individuals in the ER. The second Vivian entered Mr. Hamilton Price’s room the odor of sweat and hard living hit her.

Yes, it was enough to water your eyes, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Compared to the things she’d smelled in the past, this was pine cleaner. The instant her eyes landed on the scruffy man reclined in the bed, she recognized him from the soup kitchen where she volunteered.

Mr. Price’s salt-and-pepper hair hung in locks down his back. She wasn’t sure if his dark, leathery skin was a result of the elements or time. If nothing else, he certainly appeared to eat well, and that made her happy. The thought of anyone going hungry troubled her.

“Mr. Price?”

He rotated his head toward her. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth, revealing several missing teeth on the bottom and a bit of decay on the others.

“That’s me, pretty lady. Come on over here closer so I can see you a little better.”

Vivian smiled and neared the bed. “Well, you know, Mr. Price—”

“Call me Hamilton. Mr. Price was my father. Boy, he was an ornery SOB.”

He laughed—ta-hee-hee—or at least Vivian thought it was laughter.

“Yep, an ornery SOB, but a good man. Not many of them around these days, good men.”

He didn’t have to try to convince her. She totally agreed. Calling the mature gentleman by his first name felt disrespectful, but she did as instructed and honored his wishes. “Hamilton, if you took your diabetes medication like you’re supposed to, you wouldn’t have this blurry vision. You’d be able to see me clear across the room.”

He laughed again. “Oh, I like you already. Feisty. And I know someone else who’d like you, too. You know them good men I—”

Before Hamilton completed his thought, the door crept open behind them. When Vivian rotated, time came to a standstill. Him. Tempered Chocolate. The second their gazes collided, her body performed a similar shameful act as before. But added to the searing heat that rushed through her system, again, her nipples tightened inside her bra.

No, no, no, don’t you dare betray me like this, she warned her defiant body.

Questions flooded her. Had he entered the wrong room? Was he lost? Or less likely, had he been looking for her? She mentally drop-kicked the latter thought from her head. How ridiculous. Of course he isn’t looking for me.

Sadly, their connection now didn’t reflect the one they’d shared earlier—at least judging by his expression. In fact, now he seemed downright bothered by her presence. Vivian thought she even detected a hint of a scowl on his gorgeous face. But why? The only interaction they’d had before this moment had been a glance—a look—okay, a heat-packed, center-stirring stare, which at the time he’d seemed to appreciate just as much as she had. Obviously something had changed.

“Ta-hee-hee. Just as I expected,” came from Hamilton’s direction.

Vivian wasn’t sure what Hamilton’s comment meant, but it was enough to draw Tempered’s demanding eyes away from her. A good thing, too. Another second and she would have needed an IV. This man’s presence was draining. And to make it worse, though they hadn’t spoken a single word to one another, he had her body in a tailspin.

Chocolate had always been her weakness.


Chapter 2 (#u48fe93d3-88f0-5217-824e-41c3dc2a6cef)

Alonso Wright stopped dead in his tracks the second he entered Hamilton’s room. Her. The beautiful nurse he’d caught staring at him earlier. Okay, he couldn’t confirm for sure she’d been staring, but she’d certainly appeared guilty when his eyes had met hers. He was pretty sure she’d gasped, too.

Normally he would have appreciated the fact he’d been given another opportunity to admire the way her brown hair dangled in the ponytail every time she moved her head, or how her pecan-toned skin shimmered under the fluorescent lighting, or the hungry way her innocent-looking brown eyes drank him up. Unfortunately, the way the rude nurse who’d been here earlier had darted from the room overshadowed it all.

From the moment the other nurse had entered the room, she’d acted as if Hamilton’s mere existence disgusted her. Recalling the way the woman had rushed from the room, while Alonso was in midsentence, angered him all over again. She’d disrespected him, but more important, had disrespected Hamilton.

Was this her replacement? This one was probably just as unsympathetic as the one before. He’d hate to have to make a phone call about her, too. In a dry tone, he said, “I buzzed for someone over fifteen minutes ago. I’m glad you finally decided to grace us with your presence.”

“I apologize, sir. But I’m here now.”

“Well, we don’t need you now. I handled your job for you.” He lifted the can of soda he’d been holding, then neared Hamilton’s bedside.

She moved beside him with the speed of a cheetah. “Uh, what are you doing?”

“I’m making sure my friend doesn’t dehydrate, since I’m the only one who seems concerned about his well-being.” He normally wasn’t this sour, but a mixture of worry, stress and thin patience with the staff had him not his usual self. Maybe he needed a Snickers.

The bold woman confiscated the can of soda before he could pass it to Hamilton. “Hamilton can’t have this. We’re trying to lower his blood sugar, not increase it. Which is exactly what this would do.”

Hamilton? Were they on a first-name basis? “Well, if I could have gotten one of you to actually respond, maybe we would have had a more viable option. And it’s Mr. Price. He deserves the same respect you’d give any other patient in this hospital.” Alonso shook his head. “You people are something else. And for the record, he has good health insurance. Great insurance, actually. Probably better than yours. So you can stop treating him like a second-class citizen and do your job.”

When her jaw muscles flexed and her brown eyes turned a shade darker, Alonso knew he’d hit a nerve. But he wasn’t backing down.

“Ta-hee-hee. Uh-oh. I think you done poked the hornet’s nest, boy.”

Yep, it appeared so. After a couple seconds more of boring a hole in him with those mesmerizing eyes, she slid her attention from Alonso to Hamilton. A warm smile curled her lips as she addressed him.

“Hamilton...”

Alonso didn’t miss the fact that she’d cut her eyes at him with the use of Hamilton’s first name again.

“Sodas aren’t a good option. They may be okay every once in a while, but they’re loaded with sugar. Which I’m sure you know wreaks havoc on your diabetes.”

“Yeah. I tried to tell that knucklehead.”

Alonso’s brows furrowed. What? Hamilton had thrown him under the bus. He’d been the one to ask for the damn soda. At the smirk on Hamilton’s face, Alonso shook his head. When the nurse tossed a disapproving glance in Alonso’s direction, Alonso folded his arms across his chest and remained silent. That seemed like the best option.

Rolling her eyes away, she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Hamilton’s thin arm.

“Don’t worry. Once I check your vitals, I’ll get you something more suitable.”

Hamilton smiled so wide Alonso thought the corners of his mouth would split.

“Thank you, darling. Smart, pretty and accommodating. You married? Now, you’re a little too young for me. What are you, twenty-five, twenty-six?”

“Thirty-four, actually.”

Alonso was just as stunned as Hamilton appeared. The woman didn’t look anywhere close to thirty. Obviously good genes. At the mention of genes, Alonso’s eyes lowered to her ass. Yeah, definitely good genes. And he wouldn’t mind being the pair of jeans that got to cup all of that. Something stirred in the pit of his stomach, but he chose to ignore it.

“You’d be perfect for—” Hamilton cut his eye to Alonso “—someone else I know.”

Alonso flashed him a scowl. The man never missed an opportunity to play matchmaker. Even if Alonso were interested in her—which he wasn’t—he didn’t see her being a no-commitment type of woman. Thanks to his ex, commitment no longer interested him.

She chuckled. “Say ‘ahh,’ Hamilton.”

Neither Hamilton’s scent nor tattered clothing seemed to bother her. Her gentle manner with Hamilton forced Alonso to consider the fact he may have pegged her all wrong. Her compassion toward Hamilton appeared actually genuine. Or maybe it was because Alonso had called her out earlier. Either way, he was glad Hamilton was getting the respect he deserved.

Alonso recalled the way he’d treated her earlier. Damn. He regretted the fact he’d been such an asshole. Maybe he’d get the chance to make it right.

“All right. We’re all done here. Quick and painless. Now for that drink. Water, unsweetened tea, coffee, diet soda?”

Alonso rocked back on his heels. “So many delicious choices.” It was his chance to smirk when Hamilton eyed him. Payback for the earlier jab. If the nurse wasn’t in the room, Alonso was sure Hamilton would have flipped him the bird. That was their relationship. They gave each other shit, but Alonso trusted the man with his life. Hell, he had Hamilton to thank for his life.

“Can I get you anything?”

Her voice tore into Alonso’s thoughts, snatching him from the past. “I’m sorry?”

“Would you like something to drink?”

The offer surprised Alonso, until he considered she probably planned to poison him. Despite their earlier confrontation—if you could call it that—her manner toward him wasn’t hostile. Quite the opposite, in fact. He noted kindness in her expression. Yeah, she planned to poison him. “Ahh...no. I’m good. Thank you, though.”

“Sit tight, Hamilton. I’ll be right back.”

With that, she turned and headed toward the door. Alonso couldn’t help but observe the sway of her shapely hips. It’d been too long since he’d held on to curves like hers.

“Put your tongue in. Ta-hee-hee. You handled that like a pro. Don’t know how to handle a woman who doesn’t fall at your feet, huh?”

Alonso chuckled. “Look here, old man, you just focus on getting better and not my effect on women.”

“Old man? Don’t make me get out of this bed and show you an old man. Old man, my ass.”

Alonso laughed. The only thing Hamilton hated more than being told what to do was being called old. After a few moments of laughter, Alonso sobered. Pulling the cushioned chair bedside, he eased into it. “We need to talk, Ham,” he said, using the nickname he’d called Hamilton for years.

“Uh-oh. I know where this is going.”

Alonso was sure he sounded like a broken record. He’d had the same conversation with Hamilton numerous times. But now, things were different. “The streets are no good for you.”

“I can take care of myself. Been doing it for years. Even saved your ass a time or two.”

Truth. Alonso’s thoughts drifted seventeen years into the past, to the night he was sure Hamilton referred to. The night Hamilton had saved him from being stabbed to death. The night that had anchored the two men for life, as far as Alonso was concerned. The night—even after all these years—that still occasionally woke him in a cold sweat.

Like a phantom, Hamilton had appeared in the dark alley just in time. After subduing two of the three thugs, he’d rushed the third. Unfortunately, not before the guy had stabbed Alonso. Alonso unconsciously smoothed a hand down his side. He still wore the jagged scar of that horrific night. Yeah, he owed Hamilton his life.

Alonso brushed a hand over his head. “Things have changed, Ham. You’re—”

“Things like what?”

“Your health for one.” Alonso chastised himself for the raised tone. Hamilton turned onto his side, and Alonso was forced to stare at his back. “Ham, when I got the call you’d been found unconscious and rushed to the hospital—” A sinking feeling rushed over Alonso, forcing him to pause. Gathering himself, he continued, “I thought you were dead. It scared the hell out of me.” It was the call he’d dreaded receiving ever since he’d given Hamilton a cell phone and stored his number as the emergency contact. Alonso dropped his head. In a muted tone, he repeated, “It scared the hell out of me.”

Hamilton faced him again, a smile curling his chapped lips. “I love you, too, young buck. Don’t worry ’bout me. It’ll take more than high blood sugar to take me out.”

It was always the more Alonso worried about. Alonso rested his elbow on his thighs and eyed the man. Hamilton was his late grandfather reincarnated—stubborn, overly independent and reluctant to accept help from anyone...including him. Yep, Hamilton reminded him so much of the man who’d raised him. Perhaps that was why he felt so attached to him. So damn tenacious.

“You better not let that one slip away,” Hamilton said.

Alonso shot him a don’t-start-with-me expression.

“Don’t look at me like that. I sensed the attraction between the two of you. Thought I was gon’ catch fire from those licking flames.”

Attraction was a stretch. Alonso shot a quick glance at the door. Shouldn’t she be back by now? He set his sights on Ham again. “Quit trying to change the subject.”

“Quit sounding like a broken record.”

Alonso’s phone chimed, indicating an incoming message. He fished it from his pocket but turned his attention back to Hamilton before checking it. “It’s time, Ham. An apartment, a condo, a house, I’ll get you whatever you want. I just need you off the streets. Don’t make me beg.”

Hamilton eyed him long and hard. “Well, if it’ll get you to stop hounding me...I’ll consider it.”

Alonso clapped Hamilton’s shoulder, then checked the reminder message from his assistant. Shit. He’d forgotten all about his appointment with Vivian Moore. Trying to get that damn woman’s house was going to prematurely gray him. At thirty-seven, he was too young to be a silver fox.

The one-o’clock appointment should still be doable. If the doctor ever decides to make an appearance. He checked his watch. At eleven in the morning, he was cutting it close. Maybe he should reschedule while there was still plenty of time to do so. Keying a message to his assistant to contact Ms. Moore with his regrets and to reschedule, he stuffed the device back into his pocket.

And speaking of appearances... He shot another glance at the door. Where in the hell did she have to go for the bottle of water?

As if his words had summoned her, she strolled in. Their eyes met again in that heated way that seemed to have become customary with them. His heartbeat quickened. What the hell was that? He cleared his throat, then broke their connection.

She placed Hamilton’s water on the small table next to the bed. Resting her thin hand on his forearm, she said, “All right, Hamilton. If you need anything, just buzz the desk.” Her eyes found Alonso’s. “And I’ll instruct them to page me immediately.” Focus back on Hamilton, she continued, “The doctor should be in shortly. Hopefully after his visit you’ll be outta here to enjoy this beautiful weather.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. You’re a jewel. No one with good sense would let you slip away.”

Alonso breathed a sigh of relief when Hamilton didn’t look in his direction. The man had embarrassed him enough for one day. Before the nurse made it out of the room, Alonso was out of his chair. He owed her an apology.

“Excuse me.” She stopped, but didn’t turn to face him. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name—”

She swiveled to face him. “Busy.”

The temperature in the room dropped about twenty degrees. Obviously she still held a slight grudge.

Her gaze drifted past him momentarily to Hamilton. “He’s going to be okay.”

A blink later, she was gone. But only from the room, because the spirited nurse still lingered in Alonso’s thoughts.


Chapter 3 (#u48fe93d3-88f0-5217-824e-41c3dc2a6cef)

Vivian cracked her window to get some fresh air. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open. The ER had been busier than she’d experienced in months. Definitely not typical for a Tuesday.

A shift that should have ended at seven in the morning hadn’t ended until ten. Then she’d had to rush home, change clothes and dart across town. If she’d had any sense at all, she would have canceled the appointment with Mr. Wright.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t canceled on her a week ago, citing a family emergency. Yeah, right. He’d probably flown off to some exotic island with his mistress. Obviously money wasn’t a problem since he seemed to like sending people unsolicited checks.

Men.

At the mention of men, her thoughts floated to one man in particular. The one she’d thought about for the past week. Hamilton’s...guardian, she guessed would be an appropriate term. She no longer thought of him as Tempered Chocolate. Tempered Chocolate suited a more delectable individual. His inexcusable attack on her was anything but appetizing.

“Did he really think he could tell me how to do a job I’ve performed for twelve years?”

The nerve of him.

A wave of frustration rippled through her. Oh, she’d wanted so badly to tear into him. Thankfully, her grandmother had taught her not to waste her words on people who didn’t deserve her attention. Then there was the small issue of needing her job.

She had to admit, overhearing—kinda eavesdropping on—the conversation he’d been having with Hamilton about getting off the street redeemed him a little. While he’d been an ass to her, he’d seemed to genuinely care about Hamilton.

How’d the two know each other? Judging by the tailored suit and expensive shoes, he didn’t strike her as someone who favored the homeless. Ugh. There you go judging people again. Her grandmother would have been disappointed.

A reel of her Nina—the name she’d dubbed her spirited grandmother—played in her head. “God, I miss you.”

She parked a little more than a block from her favorite Mexican restaurant, where she’d agreed to meet Alonso Wright. In and out, she reminded herself as she reached for the door handle of her Toyota Avalon, but not before double-checking to make sure she hadn’t forgotten the envelope containing the check from Wright Developing. Apparently, Mr. Wright assumed all the zeros would tempt her. Well, he was about to find out his money couldn’t buy everything.

As she strolled down Blount Street, Vivian was glad she’d worn the flat sandals. A good call. The one thing downtown Raleigh could really use more of was parking. She didn’t mind the trek, though. The temperature was a comfortable eighty-three degrees.

There were a hundred other things she could have been doing—namely sleeping—instead of wasting her time telling Mr. Wright the same thing she’d told him five times previously.

In and out.

Checking her watch, she saw she was twenty minutes early for the 11:45 meeting. The second she ambled into the restaurant, the delicious aroma of sizzling fajitas invaded her nostrils. Her stomach growled, reminding her she’d skipped breakfast...again.

By the number of meals she’d missed working in the ER, she should be no more than a hundred pounds. Not the hundred and forty-three she proudly flaunted.

“Hola, Vivian.”

At the sound of her name, Vivian turned to see Hector, the proprietor of Caliente Mexicana, approaching her. Hector was a little shy of five feet and round as a whiskey barrel. But what he lacked in appearance, he made up for in personality. Over the four years she’d been a patron there, she’d gotten to know the sixty-year-old well. “Hola, Hector. Cómo estás?”

“Muy bien. Y tu?”

“Muy agotado.” A look of distress spread across Hector’s face, and Vivian knew it was genuine concern.

“Why very exhausted?” he asked in accented English.

“Work.”

“I understand. I’ll put you in un rincón muy tranquilo,” he said, gesturing with his hands.

Any other day she would have welcomed a very quiet booth in the corner. “That’s thoughtful, Hector, but I’m meeting someone.”

“Ah. The hermoso gentleman.”

She wasn’t sure whether or not Mr. Wright was handsome, but Hector obviously thought so. “Gentleman, I hope. Handsome, I don’t know.” She lowered her voice. “I’ve never met him.”

“Ah. You will be pleased. I’ll take you to him.”

“Wait. He’s here already?”

“Sí.”

Guess she wasn’t the only one who liked being punctual.

Vivian smoothed a hand down the front of the sleeveless green-and-white maxi dress she wore, a sudden bout of nerves fluttering in her stomach. She inhaled a deep breath, then released it slowly. Why was she so uneasy? It wasn’t like this was a first date. Any kind of date, for that matter.

When her eyes landed on the man sitting alone at the secluded table, she froze. No freaking way. She didn’t believe in coincidences. Fate, yes. But not coincidences. And right now, her belief in fate was up for examination.

This had to be a mistake. There was no way on God’s green earth the jerk from the hospital and the Alonso Wright she was there to meet were one and the same.

Impossible.

After a quick scan of the area to see if maybe Hector had confused the two men, she had her answer. Her horoscope had said today she’d face new challenges. She certainly hadn’t prepared for this degree of complication.

This didn’t change anything. If anything, it made what she needed to do easier. The man had already rubbed her the wrong way once; she wouldn’t give him another opportunity.

Mr. Wright glanced up from his device and did what she labeled a triple take. Yep, he was baffled, too. God, he made mystified look so good.

Their eyes locked from across the room. To say she experienced a jolt of attraction would be putting it mildly. The man was gorgeous. Really gorgeous. Runway-model gorgeous. Too bad he was such an asshole.

She wanted to snatch her eyes away, but his dark gaze held her like a powerful magnet. When he stood, her breath caught in her throat. The suit clung to his body like fine art. Yes, she was captivated. And underdressed for the occasion, apparently. Her eyes weren’t the only set appreciating the human form. Her cheeks warmed under his scrutiny.

“Are you okay?”

Vivian shifted toward Hector, thankful he’d broken the spell. “Sí.” It was all she could do to force her feet to take her forward and not back. Luckily, they cooperated, placing her toe-to-toe with him, Tempered Chocolate, jerk from the hospital, Alonso Wright.

With a narrow-eyed gaze, he said, “Have...we met before?”

Apparently, his curiosity trumped a customary greeting. Had they met before? Really? So much for making a lasting first impression. In her defense, at the hospital she’d worn scrubs, her hair in a ponytail and no makeup.

“Actually, yes, we have. You rudely alluded to me being the worst nurse you’d ever encountered.”

“The hospital,” he said more to himself than to Vivian. A look of regret spread across his face. “Mrs. Wright—” He lowered his head and chuckled.

Had he just given her his last name? Vivian Wright. Not bad. Urgently, she reminded herself why she was there. Business, not lust.

His head slowly rose. “I’m sorry about that. It’s been a long day. Mrs. Moore is what I actually meant to say.”

“No worries. And it’s Ms. Wright—” Vivian’s eyes widened. Shit. “Moore. It’s Ms. Moore.” Why was she cracking under pressure? She was an ER nurse. Pressure was her middle name. When Alonso flashed one of the sexiest smiles she’d ever seen, she temporarily changed her name to woman-who-couldn’t-control-her-libido.

Alonso shrugged. “See, accidents happen.”

“Amor a primera vista,” Hector said, before leaving them alone.

Love at first sight? Not hardly.

“We started off on the wrong foot. I’d really like the opportunity to redeem myself and apologize for my behavior at the hospital.” He extended his arm toward her. “Alonso Wright.”

When Vivian’s palm rested against his, a searing heat rushed up her arm. Ignoring the tingle, she forced out, “Vivian Moore.”

Alonso eyed her as if attempting to memorize her features. A beat later, he jerked as if he’d realized he’d been staring at her, then released her hand.

“Ah...sit, please.”

Her brain almost processed the command. Luckily, good sense kicked in. “I won’t be staying. I wanted to return this.” She rummaged through her oversize purse, fished out the envelope and passed it to him. “My answer last month was no. My answer last week was no. My answer today is still no. Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Wright.” She turned and started away.

“Three hundred thousand.”

Vivian stopped. Three hundred thousand was double what he’d originally offered. She faced him, then slowly moved back to the table. “I’m sure there are plenty of other properties in North Carolina that would suit you. Why do you want mine so badly?” Word on the street was he’d already acquired every house in her old neighborhood except hers.

A glint of vulnerability sparked in his eyes, and she couldn’t help but wonder why. Especially since everything about this man screamed resilient—from his confident dark eyes and square jaw, to his enticing lips and strong chin.

“I’m offering more than you would ever get for the property, Ms. Moore.”

Vivian noted how he’d skirted around her question. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wright. It’s not for sale. And neither am I.”

He frowned. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Trying to buy you.”

She fanned her hand around the colorful restaurant. “Isn’t that what this lunch is all about? Wine and dine me to get what you want.”

Alonso released a sexy chuckle that caressed her body like gentle fingers.

“Wine and dine you, huh?” He massaged his chin with two fingers and smiled. “Something tells me you’re worth far more than a chimichanga.”

“And that something would be absolutely correct. Good day, Mr. Wright.”

* * *

There was no way Alonso was letting Ms. Moore slip away. Not just because he needed to convince her to sell, but because something about the woman drew him in and dangled him like prey over the mouth of a hungry, lust-filled beast.

He never mixed business with pleasure, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the idea of spending a few pleasure-filled nights with her. Despite the potent desire to take her right there on the table, he refused to allow his craving to cloud his judgment. A lot rode on this deal.

With the money he’d already invested into the project—downtown shops, restaurants, a hotel and the most important landmark, a swanky event center to honor his grandfather—he stood to lose a lot of money. He didn’t like to lose at anything.

Think, Wright. Get her to stay.

“You owe me a soda.” When he folded his arms across his chest, her eyes drifted to his biceps, then shot up to meet his. So, he wasn’t the only one gripped by temptation.

“Excuse me?”

“You owe me a soda. At the hospital, you confiscated my soda and never returned it. I worked hard for that soda. You owe me a replacement.” Of course, he wasn’t serious, but the quizzical way she eyed him suggested she thought he was. He’d pay triple what he was already offering just to know what was racing through her head.

“Okay, then.” She dug into her purse. “How much do I owe you? A dollar? A dollar fifty? How about I give you two?”

Well, that hadn’t gone the way he’d intended. He’d expected a laugh, a smile, some show of amusement. Alonso touched her arm and his skin prickled. What the...? Suddenly, the temperature in the restaurant rose about ten degrees. If he started to sweat, he would sizzle and steam. How embarrassing would that be? He couldn’t remember the last time—or if ever—his body had reacted this way.

“Ms. Wr—Moore.” Shit. Why did he keep giving her his last name? “I was only kidding. I don’t want your money. We have a lunch appointment.” He shrugged. “Why not have lunch?”

Vivian mimicked his stance. “Instead of lunch, perhaps you should go home and get some rest. You keep confusing me with your sister. I’m certainly not old enough to be confused for your mother.”

Ah. She did have a sense of humor. “I’m an only child, and my mother is deceased.”

Panic spread across her face. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“You can make it up to me.” He pulled out her chair. “And as an incentive, I’ll tell you how I thought you were an eighty-year-old woman.” The revelation seemed to pique her curiosity.

“An eighty-year-old woman?” She eased into the chair. “This should be good.”

Score.

After placing their orders, they feasted on chips and salsa while Alonso told her how he’d chatted with the elderly woman from her old neighborhood—before he’d purchased her house. She’d told him stories about a Vivian Moore who’d lived across the street.

“You must have talked to Ms. Marla. She’s a bit senile. I think she had me confused with my great-grandmother. I’m named after her.” Her brow arched. “Did I sound eighty over the phone?”

“You never really said a whole lot. An mmm-hmm here and an uh-huh there. Now that I think about it, you kinda reminded me of an old lady.”

Vivian tossed a crumpled napkin at him, then laughed. If he had to guess, she was warming up to him. “See, I’m not so bad after all, right?”

The look she flashed him suggested she wasn’t wholly convinced of the claim. Well, Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Their food arrived. The chips and salsa were good, but hadn’t been enough. The cheesy beef-tip burrito would do the trick. He tried to ignore how tempting it was to watch Vivian take a forkful of the grilled-chicken taco salad into her mouth. Yeah, he envied the utensil.

Breaking the silence, he said, “I get it, Ms. Moore. You have a sentimental attachment to your childhood home. It’s understandable. But you don’t need me to tell you that three hundred thousand is a very generous offer.”

She eyed him a moment. Was she mulling it over?

“What do you intend to construct on the site, Mr. Wright?”

“Excuse me?”

“I asked what you intend on constructing on the site. You’ve purchased all of the homes, with the exception of mine, of course. I doubt you plan on renovating. So...what’s your plan?”

Her eyes narrowed on him as if she were attempting to read his mind. And for a moment, he experienced a hint of unease. Was he allowing this no-more-than one-hundred-forty-pound nurse to rattle him?

“Let me guess. Condos? Fancy restaurants? Stores no one in that community could even afford to shop in?”

“Jobs.”

By the slight softening of her features, it was the last answer she’d expected. He placed his fork down and dabbed at the corners of his mouth. “You have me all wrong, Vivian. May I call you Vivian?”

She nodded.

“There are many things you don’t see when you look at me. Just as I’m sure there are many layers to you.” And he’d like to peel them all away.

“Maybe. What forms will these jobs—”

In a bold move, he reached across and brushed a crumb from her cheek. When his finger grazed her warm skin, she stilled. Yeah, they had something going on, sparks. By her bewildered expression, she realized it, too.

She jerked away from his reach, then placed her napkin on the table. “Well—” She cleared her throat. “Well, Alonso. May I call you Alonso?”

He nodded.

“Thank you for lunch. I should really be going.” She scooted her chair away from the table, stood, and started to walk away.

Alonso stood. “Would you like your purse?”

Vivian stopped. When she turned, a sheepish expression lingered on her beautiful face. If he didn’t know better, he’d rattled her. The notion caused an inward smile. He passed her the black patent-leather bag. “You’ll think about my offer?” And me? Of course, he didn’t say the latter aloud.

“No.”

No. “No?”

“Your attempt at softening me, then swooping in for the kill failed.” She shrugged. “Sorry. Better luck next time. And by next time, I do mean with someone else, because my answer is final.” She smiled and made a hasty escape from the building.

Alonso massaged the side of his face as if he’d been slapped. In a way, he had. Seemed he’d met his match in Vivian Moore. In more ways than one. But he was Alonso Wright. He wouldn’t allow this minor roadblock to trouble him. Everyone had a price. He just needed to discover hers.

He smirked. Doing so could be fun.


Chapter 4 (#u48fe93d3-88f0-5217-824e-41c3dc2a6cef)

Alonso stood at the 3-D table model of his newest development venture: a luxury hotel, condos, eateries and, most important, an event center named after his late grandfather. This was truly the one thing that made the project worthwhile.

He moved away from the table and stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, homing in on one area in particular. “No other location will do,” he whispered to himself. To be able to stand in this very spot and glance out to see his grandfather’s name featured prominently on the event center... “No, no other spot will do,” he repeated to himself. A wave of emotion crashed over him when he thought about how much he missed the man.

Phalonius Wright had been a good man—a great man—and the fact that Alonso was able to honor his grandfather in such a manner swelled him with pride. He’d come a long way and had the man who’d raised him to thank. And this was his way of doing so.

He folded his arms across his chest, his thoughts shifting to Vivian. Why in the hell was the woman being so stubborn? The damn house was falling down. And it wasn’t like anyone had occupied the dilapidated dwelling for years. Plus, he was offering her far more than the hovel was worth.

“What’s up, bro?”

He turned to see Roth Lexington, his best friend since kindergarten, stroll through his office door. When the tall man stood within arm’s reach, Alonso exchanged a manly hug with him. “What’s up, man? I thought you were out of town.”

“Got back last night.” Roth’s attention shifted to the layout. “Damn. When you said you were honoring your grandpops, you really meant you were honoring your grandpops. Man...this is amazing.” Roth eyed him. “I’m proud of you, dude. And you’re making your grandpops real proud, too.”

Alonso nodded. “Thanks, man. That means a lot.” He eyed his brainchild again. “Out of every project I’ve done, this is the one that means the most.”

“Any luck with the house you need to acquire to seal the deal?”

Alonso sighed heavily. “I’m in trouble, man.” He dropped into one of the two coffee-colored leather chairs.

“What do you need?”

This was one of the things Alonso respected most about Roth. He was a helluva friend. It was never What did you do? or What did you get yourself into? or any bullshit like that. It was always an instant How can I help? response.

Alonso leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ve finally met her.”

“Met who?”

“The woman who’s going to be my ultimate demise.”

“Damn.” Roth took a seat adjacent Alonso. “This I’ve got to hear.”

Alonso spent the next hour telling Roth all about Vivian. From his horrible first impression at the hospital, to his scaring her off at the restaurant, and ending with his overwhelming attraction to her.

“Damn. That’s wild. The nurse turns out to be the same woman who owns the house.”

“I know, right? Sounds like something you’d see on a damn soap opera.”

“Sounds like destiny to me. Like it’s been determined for you two to connect with each other.”

“You sound like Ham. He all but told the woman I wanted her.” Alonso ran a hand over his head. “The strange part about it, I can’t stop thinking about her. I even dreamed about her last night.” He’d awakened harder than a piece of steel.

“Oh, yeah, she’s under your skin. You gonna pursue it?”

Alonso shrugged. “Nah. You know I never mix business with pleasure. But there’s something about this one I’m having a hard time ignoring. And damn, I’ve tried.”

Roth grinned. “Maybe she’s the one.”

Alonso laughed. “I don’t know about all of that. And I’m damn sure not looking for a relationship. I’ve traveled that dark road before. But I won’t lie, I did enjoy spending time with Vivian.” Despite how brief it may have been.

“Inez was a long time ago, Lo,” Roth said, using the nickname he’d called Alonso since they were tykes. “You can’t run from love—or destiny—” he smirked “—forever.”

“Says the man who dodges relationships like bullets.”

“I’m not dodging. I’m just waiting on the right one. She’s out there. But this ain’t about me. You gotta stop living in the past. Yeah, it was low-down what Inez did to you, but let it go. You’re a good brother, one of the best brothers I know. You deserve a happily-ever-after.”

“You sound like a greeting card.”

Alonso pushed to his feet and stood in front of the window again. Inez. Damn, some women knew how to really break a man. “I trusted that woman. Trusting a woman. My first mistake.”

“You didn’t make the mistake. She did. You should have been able to trust her. She was your lady.” Roth came to stand by Alonso. “You can’t condemn every woman because of the actions of one.”

Alonso didn’t argue because Roth was right. However, Alonso would have never pegged his ex as someone who’d poke holes in his condoms in hopes of securing a wedding proposal—or a payday. He still wasn’t truly sure which one she’d been after. She got neither, a wedding nor a baby.

Dammit, he did get to condemn, even if inside he knew he was wrong for doing so. All women weren’t the same. He knew that. But remembering what Inez had done to him made that hard to remember.

“I have to stay away from this woman. I fade when I’m near her and become this sensitive, all-in-my-feelings brother. I don’t know what she does to me, but I don’t like it.”

“Sounds to me like she’s tapping into the true you. The one you try so desperately to hide from the world.”

Roth knew him better than anyone, so there was no use in trying to dispute the claim. He did hide himself. And for good reason. The only side people needed to see of him was his fearless businessman persona. Revealing any other side made him vulnerable. Not even his ex had seen the true depths of him. Why would he allow Vivian to? “I would never give a woman that kind of power over me.”

Roth laughed. “Never say never, man.”

“In this case, never is a damn good bet. Besides, Vivian Moore seems utterly unimpressed with either face of Alonso Wright.”

“Are you sure about that? The way you said she ran from the restaurant when you touched her makes me believe she’s not as unimpressed as you think.”

Yeah, his touch had seemed to stir something inside her. But was it interest or disgust? “There’s no interest there. Trust me. I’ve called her several times and she hasn’t returned even one of my messages.”

“Invite her to dinner?”

Had Roth not just heard a word he’d said? “Invite her to dinner?”

“Yes. If you want to gauge her interest, invite her to dinner. If she’s not interested, as you suggest, she’ll flat out turn you down. If she is interested, she’ll pretend not to be but will ultimately say yes.” Roth pressed his hand into his chest. “I personally think she’s very interested. And to downplay her interest, she’ll probably toss out something along the lines of, ‘Well, a girl has gotta eat’ or ‘My mother taught me to never turn down a free meal.’”

Alonso laughed at Roth’s animated delivery. “You’re a fool, you know that?”

“I’ve been called worse.”

Alonso released a heavy breath. This sounded an awful lot like chasing. Him chasing a woman... Not gonna happen. Hell, women chased him, not the other way around. And even if he bumped his head and decided to take Roth’s advice, there was still one small problem: the woman was ignoring him, which for some reason annoyed the shit out of him.

Why was he letting Vivian get to him? Any other woman would have long lost his attention. Why not her? What is so different about this one? Questions plagued him. He wouldn’t go as far as to say his interest in Vivian scared him, but it damn sure rattled him a bit. The notion made him laugh at himself. Alonso Wright, rattled by a female. This shit was a first, and wrong on so many levels.

He needed to reclaim his manhood. “Nah, dinner’s not an option. I have to think with the right head on this one. Keep the bigger picture in sight. I need her property. That’s the goal. The only one that matters. Strictly business.” Though it was truly less about business than it was about his own need. Possibly a selfish one. He didn’t have to glance in Roth’s direction to know he was flashing a disapproving look. “Go ’head and say it.” And as expected, Roth didn’t hesitate.

“Forget about business when it comes to happiness.”

“Shit. Happiness is business, because business equals money. And money makes everybody happy.”

Both men turned to see Garth Garrison entering the office. Garth was the builder Alonso typically contracted. They’d started out in the industry roughly around the same time and had tossed each other plenty of business along the way. He stood well over six feet with a commanding presence that always seemed to work in his favor when it came to getting dealings handled.

Garth eyed the 3-D model. “And this piece of business is going to make us a shitload of cold, hard cash.”

“Garrison,” Alonso said, addressing the man by his last name. He stuck out his hand as the man approached. “You better not have been out there flirting with my assistant again.”

Garth laughed. “Can I help it if she wants me?”

“To what do I owe this honor?” Alonso asked.

Before Garth answered, Roth clapped Alonso on the shoulder. “I’m going to head out, man. I just stopped by to say what’s up. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Alonso wasn’t sure what the deal was with Roth and Garth, but whenever Garth came around, Roth always made himself scarce. “Okay, man. Are we still on for B-ball this weekend?”

“Absolutely. Gentlemen.”

As Roth moved past, Garth chuckled in what Alonso took as a condescending manner. Obviously the man had no idea Roth was one hornet’s nest you didn’t want to poke. When Roth stung, he stung hard.

Refocusing on the table model, Garth said, “This shit is going to be spectacular. So when are we breaking ground?”

Alonso blew out a heavy sigh, the name Vivian Moore flashing in his head. “Still trying to tie up a few loose ends.”

A hint of concern spread across Garth’s face. “Is there a problem?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Alonso hoped Garth would drop the subject there, but of course it couldn’t have been that simple.

“Is it with the last house you need to acquire? What happened to the letter you were going to send? That would definitely get the ball rolling for sure.”

Alonso thought about the letter he’d written with the intent of sending it to the building code division. He retrieved the scathing correspondence from his drawer and studied his signature. A second later, he stuck it back inside. “I’ll give her a chance to come to her senses before I force her hand. That’s the gentlemanly thing to do.” Plus, after spending time with Vivian, he wasn’t sure this was the route he wanted to take any longer.

Garth barked a laugh. “Alonso Wright a gentleman?” He laughed again.

Alonso wasn’t offended by the ridicule. Very few people truly knew him.

“Well, I know people. Say the word and I’ll make sure it’s declared uninhabitable. Then she’ll have to sell. That bit—”

“Whoa,” Alonso said, flashing his palms, a hint of unexplainable anger swelling inside of him at the idea of Garth calling Vivian that word. Finding his calm, he said, “I got it handled.”

“I hope so. This...woman is standing in the way of my money.” Garth checked his watch. “I got a meeting to get to.” He turned and started away. Stopping, he faced Alonso again. “You let me know if you need me to handle it. They don’t call me the Problem Solver for nothing.”

A smug Garth ambled away.

Alonso’s grandfather used to say an overly confident man was dangerous and a man controlled by money was deadly. Lately, Garth had become both, which made him a liability Alonso didn’t need. He already had enough problems. Namely, Vivian Moore. The seductive siren had whipped some kind of spell on him.

* * *

“Jesus Christ! This man just doesn’t give up.”

Vivian deleted the fifth voice mail message she’d received from Alonso Wright since their meeting two weeks ago. Hadn’t he picked up on the fact she’d been avoiding his calls? Mainly because since their lunch she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the brash man.

So not good.

“Who?”

Vivian joined Tressa at the round table inside the nurses’ lounge. “Alonso Wright. That real estate developer I told you about who is determined to purchase my grandmother’s house. My house,” she corrected.

Tressa bit into a carrot. “Don’t companies like his usually have people who handle the grunt work? Are you sure the house is the only thing he’s after?”

Vivian shot her a scowl. “Eat your rabbit food.”

“Tell me again how you attempted to make a dramatic exit and forgot your purse.” Tressa—her soon-to-be former best friend—laughed as if it’d been the funniest story she’d ever heard.

“Is that what friends do now? Laugh at each other’s pain?”

“Aww. Come here.” Tressa stood, rounded the table and draped her arms around Vivian’s neck. “It’s okay. We’ve all made fools of ourselves in front of men we like.”

When Tressa burst into laughter again, Vivian shooed her away. “It’s not funny. And I don’t like him. At least, not in the way you’re suggesting.” Like him. Please. Tressa flashed her signature do-I-look-dumb-to-you expression. “Okay, maybe there’s something about him I’m drawn to. But any woman would be drawn to him,” she said in an attempt to downplay her attraction. Then it hit her. Had she really just admitted that aloud? And to the woman who’d been trying to play matchmaker for the last year.

“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.

Again, Alonso scrutinized her as if committing her features to memory. He’d eyed her in a similar manner at the restaurant, too, she recalled. What exactly did he see when he stared at her that way?

“Why are you here?” she said, breaking the silence.

“Have dinner with me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you think I’m a nice guy.”

“Actually, I don’t think about you at all.”

“Liar.”

Vivian’s brows bunched. “Excuse me?”

“The way your eyes smiled when you looked at me suggested you have thought about me.” He shrugged. “At least once or twice.”

“The way my eyes...” She laughed, attempting to strip away the nervousness that lingered just below the surface. “You are hilarious.” He flashed one of those soul-stirring smiles. If that hadn’t been enough, he performed that two-fingered beard massage thing that was quickly becoming her kryptonite. Why in the hell did she find the move so damn arousing?

Alonso folded his arms across his chest and rocked back and forth on his heels. “Well, I guess I was wrong.”

“I’m sure that was hard for you to admit, being wrong, but it happens to the best of us.” Oh, she would sacrifice a limb to know what raced through his head at the moment. The roguish expression on his face made the possibilities endless.

“About that dinner?”

He was a persistent one. She scrutinized him. What kind of game are you playing, Alonso Wright? Clearly, this was some elaborate scheme he’d cooked up in an attempt to persuade her to change her mind about selling the house. She’d played the fool once for a man, but wouldn’t again. This time she would wield the upper hand and beat him at whatever diversion he’d crafted. “Okay.”

Alonso’s brow arched in what she took to be surprise. Had he expected to have to put up more of a fight? He wasn’t the only astonished one. Typically, she wasn’t one to play games, but he made the challenge so damn appealing. Maybe she should have made him work a little harder.

“Okay?” Alonso said, his words dripping with uncertainty.

“Yes, okay. Unless you’ve already changed your mind.” She mimicked his folded-arm stance. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

“Hell, no.”

She bit back a smile. “Good.”

“My best friend plays at a jazz club in downtown. The food is amazing. But we can do whatever you’d like.”

What she’d like to do was definitely not an option. “I love jazz, actually.”

“I know.”

“How—”

He touched the charm bracelet she wore, grasping the sterling silver saxophone between his fingers. “Details.”

She couldn’t recall a man ever paying this much attention to detail. Her arms fell to her sides, not wanting to risk another wave of sensation like what had crashed through her earlier.

They spent the next few minutes making plans. The upcoming weekend was no good for either of them, so they scheduled for the following Friday.

Vivian checked her watch. “I really should get back to work.”

“Okay. I have to get going, too. I’m getting Hamilton settled into his new place.”

“That’s great.” Vivian thought back to the conversation she’d overheard between him and Hamilton. Hamilton hadn’t sounded too interested, but apparently Alonso had changed his mind. If Alonso was that good at persuasion, maybe she should rethink this dinner thing. “How is Hamilton? No sodas, right?”

Alonso chuckled. “He’s good. And no sodas.”

She wasn’t sure she believed him about the soda part. “That’s good. That’s really good.” Things fell silent. What the hell was she doing? Why had she convinced herself any of this would be okay?

“Hey. You okay?”

Vivian snapped from her thoughts. Smiling, she said, “Yes. I was just thinking about how happy I am that Hamilton—” Her words trailed off seeing the wide grin on Alonso’s face. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s something. What?”

“I just like the way someone else’s fortune brings you happiness. It’s refreshing.”

Something tender flashed in his eyes and for a brief moment, it blinded her to the fact she didn’t fully trust his motives. “I just like seeing people make changes for the better. Tell Hamilton I said hello.”

“Will do.”

Alonso sauntered away, leaving his manly scent behind for Vivian to appreciate. If she had any sense at all, she’d run far, far away from the man, instead of sprinting toward him.


Chapter 5 (#u48fe93d3-88f0-5217-824e-41c3dc2a6cef)

Heavy rain pelleted Vivian’s bedroom window, effects from the hurricane forming off the coast. This weather was unfit for anyone to venture out in. Her thoughts went to Hamilton. Thank God Alonso convinced him to get off the streets.

Unfortunately, Hamilton was only one of many. The thought of anyone suffering through this storm saddened her. What soothed her was the fact that the homeless had unique ways of braving the elements.

Lifting her cell phone from the nightstand, she scrolled through her contact list until coming to Alonso’s name. They’d have to reschedule their evening. She didn’t like driving in the rain, and even if she did, it would take an act of God to drag her from the dry comfort of her home.

A wave of disappointment washed over her as the phone rang in her ear. Had she actually been looking forward to spending an evening with Alonso? She groaned. Yes, she had. All the more reason to cancel.

Alonso answered on the fourth ring. At least she thought it was Alonso. The masculine voice on the opposite end was heavy. “Alonso?”

“Hey.”

“You didn’t sound like yourself.”

“Sorry. I was on the treadmill. I’m a little winded.”

An image of him bare chested and glistening played in her head. Shaking off the enticing visual, she refocused on the call. “Um, with the weather being so nasty, I think it’s best if we reschedule. I don’t drive—”

“I’ll come to you. I really should be picking you up anyway, instead of you meeting me. That’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

She’d suggested meeting him as a precaution. If by chance the night went horribly wrong, she’d have her own vehicle and could make a clean getaway. Him coming there? Probably not a good idea.

“Even better,” he continued, “we don’t have to go out at all. I can pick something up. What do you say?”

He seemed awfully determined to not allow her to cancel. Had he spent the past two weeks looking forward to this, too? The notion brought a hint of a smile to her lips. Make a decision, Vivian. Yes or no.

“Um...okay. Sure, that’s fine.” What was it about this man that forced her to push all rational thinking aside?

“Great. So...what would you like for me to pick up?”

“You’re good with details. Surprise me.”

“You should know I like a challenge. I’ll see you soon.”

They ended the call and Vivian collapsed onto the bed, pulled a pillow over her face and pretended to smother herself. “What have you gotten yourself into, Vivian Gayle Moore? You know you should have said no. Hell, no, to be precise.”

Well, at least the night could be beneficial. Once Alonso discovered they had absolutely nothing in common, he’d vanish from her life. But what if they did have things in common? It didn’t matter if they did. This wasn’t a love connection, she reminded herself.

And how could they have anything in common? He’d probably never struggled a day in his life.

She’d struggled plenty.

He struck her as black-tie.

She was definitely casual Friday.

He was luxury.

She was... Well, she was luxury, too, but in a certified preowned type of way.

“Nope. Nothing at all in common.”

Springing forward, she sat on the edge of the bed. One upside, she didn’t have to get all dolled up to sit in her living room. “Jeans and a T-shirt it is.”

Thunder cracked, followed by several fingers of lightning that lit her bedroom, then more thunder. “Jesus.” When the lights flickered she went in search of candles. Just in case. She ignored the romantic value of a candlelit dinner with Alonso. “You are pathetic, Vivian Moore.”

Two hours later, Vivian welcomed a drenched Alonso into her dimly lit home. “Good grief. You’re soaked.” As if he needed her to point that out to him. “Let me help you with those.” She took two of the four bags he carried.

“It’s awfully cozy in here. I like it.”

“The storm knocked out the power. What is all of this?” she asked, setting the bags on the coffee table.

“Food from your favorite restaurant.”

“My favorite rest—” Just then, she saw the Caliente Mexicana logo. “How did—” She stopped abruptly.

“Details,” they said in unison.

Damn, he was good.

“You and the owner of the restaurant seemed familiar, so I assumed you frequented the place. And if you frequented the place, it must be your favorite. At least one of them.”

“Do you pay this close attention to everyone you meet?” She laughed, but sobered when she noted the stern expression on Alonso’s face.

“No, I don’t.”

Alonso’s eyes lowered to her mouth, and a warm sensation blossomed in her stomach. “Umm...let’s get you out of these wet clothes before you catch pneumonia.” A corner of his mouth lifted into a roguish smile, and she shook her head. “Whatever outlandish thoughts are racing through that head of yours, stop them.”

He shrugged. “What? I just like the idea of you...”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“...wanting to keep me healthy. You thought I was going to say ‘undressing me,’ didn’t you?”

“No.”

“Yeah, right.” He wagged his finger at her. “You should really get your mind out of the gutter.”

Vivian bit back a smile, then sighed heavily for effect. “Follow me.”

“Anywhere,” Alonso said with a wink.

God, he was so full of it. As they moved down the hallway toward the laundry room, she envisioned peeling the wine-colored T-shirt from his soaking body, the heat of their desire causing the moisture on his chest to turn to steam. Then unbuttoning his jeans and inching them down his solid frame with unhurried anticipation.

“Earth to Vivian.”

She turned to face him, slamming into the brick of his chest. “Oh.” She stumbled a couple steps backward. Finding her equilibrium, she said, “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked how long the power has been out.” A quizzical expression slid across his face. “Are...you okay?”

No, she wasn’t, but nodded anyway. “Yes. Uh...about half an hour.” She continued toward the laundry room. “I’m sure it’ll be on any second now.”




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