In The Market For Love. Joy Avery

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,