Love Contract. Lisa Watson

      Exasperated, Milán let out a loud sigh. “He was too obnoxious for me to tell. After he made me mad, I didn’t pay much attention.”

      “I’m not buying that,” Nyah said, firmly. “Come on, tell me.”

      Milán groaned. “Must we do this now?”

      “Deje de darle vueltas al asunto y dime. ¿Buen besador? ¿Hace que el corazón palpite solo mirarlo? ¿Es alto?”

      Milán groaned. “I didn’t ponder if he was a good kisser or not and no, my heart didn’t flutter. It was racing, but that’s because I was angry. And he’s tall. At least six foot two.”

      “Athletic, or really muscular?”

      Milán paused. “Somewhere in the middle. He’s definitely in shape.”

      “What about the rest of him? What color are his eyes? Does he have a strong jaw? What about his skin? Is it a warm caramel, luscious milk chocolate or soft delectable nougat?”

      Unable to help herself, Milán laughed. “Why do you always compare men’s attributes to some kind of sweets?”

      “I don’t know. I just love desserts. It’s my second favorite pastime.”

      “Men being the first,” her sister replied.

      “Yes, now speaking of which—”

      “Fine,” Milán interrupted. “Yes, he’s good-looking. Very—and he knows it which is a definite turnoff, second only to his overbearing personality. His skin was like...desert sand at sunset. His eyes were like Oloroso sherry. A warm, vibrant brown that was very expressive.” Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered their ill-advised encounter. “His body was...firm in all the right places. There’s no doubt he works out often. And...he tasted like...hazelnut coffee.”

      Nyah snorted. “Hazelnut coffee? Didn’t pay attention, huh?”

      Milán frowned against the phone. “It wasn’t like that. I can appreciate the physical attributes, while disliking his arrogant nature and superiority complex. Trust me there was nothing impressive about that.”

      Worked up just remembering Adrian’s behavior, Milán went back to cleaning. The scrubbing continued, but this time on a quieter scale.

      “¿Oye, puedes aguantar esperar? Tengo otra llamada telefónica.” Milán clicked over when she heard a beep. “Hello?”

      Silence ensued. “Hello?” Milán repeated. When nobody spoke up, she clicked back to her sister. “Lo siento.”

      “¿Quién era lo?”

      “No sé.”

      The line beeped again.

      “Un momento,” she said to her sister as she clicked to the second line.“Hello? I can hear you breathing, you know,” she told her caller. “Fine,” she snapped and returned to her sister.

      After another few minutes, her line beeped again.

      “This is getting ridiculous,” Milán complained.

      “Hablarémos después,” Nyah replied and hung up.

      “Look, I don’t know who taught you phone etiquette, but—”

      “Miss Dixon, wait. Don’t hang up. This is—”

      Milán’s expression darkened upon recognizing the voice. “I know who it is,” she said coldly. “Your rudeness is becoming legendary.”

      “I’m sorry about that. My battery was going dead on my phone so I switched.”

      “I see.” Her voice was laced with skepticism. “So how did you get my number?”

      “Your résumé.”

      She grunted in response.

      “I’d like to speak with you, if now is a good time?”

      A long bout of silence ensued.

      “Just a few minutes,” he persisted. “That’s all I’m asking.”

      Milán leaned against the kitchen counter. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mr. Anderson.”

      “Why not? Are you afraid to talk to me?”

      “Ha,” she laughed in his ear. “Nice try, but I don’t rise to bait that easily.”

      “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to call me Adrian, would you?”

      “No.”

      “Fair enough. The reason I’m calling, Miss Dixon... What is that?”

      “What is what?”

      “That noise?”

      Frowning, Milán stopped scrubbing the inside of her refrigerator. “Nothing.” She closed the door as quietly as she could, and then set the cleaning supplies down. She moved to the far side of the room. “You were saying?”

      “Anyway, what I called to say is that I wanted to...apologize...for my...behavior earlier today. It was uncalled for and I was wrong to jump to conclusions like that. I’d like to make it up to you.”

      “You don’t do that very often, do you?”

      “What?”

      “Apologize.”

      “No.”

      Despite herself, Milán’s lips curved into a smile. At least he was honest. Boorish, but honest.

      “So am I forgiven?”

      Her eyes widened. “Hardly. You kissed me—without my consent.”

      “I know. I was out of line.”

      “You think?” she snapped. “Besides, your apology didn’t sound genuine. Try again.”

      “Fine, it would appear my heartfelt sincerity—”

      She couldn’t help the snort that escaped her lips. “Heartfelt?”

      “Sincerity,” he continued, “isn’t enough for you. So tell me how I can make amends?”

      “To be honest, I’m not sure. Apparently you’re used to getting your own way—even when you’re wrong.”

      “That’s hardly a fair assessment,” he countered.

      “According to whom?”

      “Okay, Adrian Anderson apology—take two. Miss Dixon, I got caught up in my own personal issues earlier and took my frustrations out on you. It was rude, unprofessional and I apologize.”

      Milán peeled her rubber gloves off one at a time. “Yes, it was.”

      “So, am I forgiven?”

      “No, you’re not.”

      “Will you come back for a proper interview?”

      “I don’t think so, but I appreciate the phone call.”

      “Wait,” Adrian said, quickly. “I really think we should meet face-to-face to discuss this.”

      “Not a snowball’s chance, Mr. Anderson, but if I change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.” She hung up. Serves him right. Sliding her gloves back on, Milán grabbed her sponge and returned to scrubbing the hell out of her kitchen.

      * * *

      “Well, that went well,” Adrian groused. He put his phone down and headed into the kitchen. Practically ripping the door off its hinges, he bent over to scan the contents of his fridge. Grabbing a beer, and a mound of other things, he pushed the door shut with his leg and set his bounty on his granite island.

      “What’s for lunch?”

      Adrian glanced