Off the Market

Excerpt 

Most of you will remember this self-involved bad boy from my debut short-story, "The Switch" in the Essence bestselling anthology, Love Is Blind (2004).  In "Off the Market," Adrian meets his perfect match in Milan Dixon, an Interior Designer who's as fluent in Spanish as she is in driving him crazy.

 

Adrian Anderson raised his throbbing head from his desk scrutinizing the woman before him.  He may be mad, but he sure wasn’t blind.  This woman was like a stop sign placed in the middle of a freeway.  Her looks demanded a man halt and take notice.  Shapely legs were doing an excellent job of supporting her curvaceous body.  The sun kissed hue of her skin was flawless, except for a splattering of freckles on her upper cheeks and nose.  Silky jet-black hair hung just below her shoulders, enticing a man to run his fingers through it.

Her eyes were the pièce de résistance.  Intense pools of hazel held strength, yet mystery that could drown a man in their unfathomable depths.  There was no way that shade eye color were contacts.  As was his custom, Adrian’s body was ready to take the perusal to a whole new level, until he remembered the person responsible for the vision standing in front of him.  Jaw clenched shut, his left eyelid ticked ever so slightly.  “I don't believe this.  She's done it to me again.  Why do I even…she sent you didn't she?"

"Who?"  The honey laced voice replied.

"My mother!"  The two words burst forth, filling the air heavily with tension.  He tried to calm himself; it took considerable effort.  The ‘love broker’ as his friends jokingly dubbed his mother, was relentless.  Looking at the latest proof of Norma Jean Anderson’s handiwork set him to pacing.

Confusion registered on the woman’s face.  "Well, yes.  She gave me your card and told me I had to come see you,” sitting across from him, she shrugged out of her navy blue suit jacket.  “Norma told me you were exactly the man I needed."

“I’ll bet she did,” Adrian stood up, his hands unconsciously straightening his dark gray, Armani suit.  He’d heard enough.  She may be working it in all the right places, and his temperature may have risen a degree or two, but he wasn’t taking the bait.  "Listen Miss?"

"Dixon...Milan Dixon."

"The point is Miss Dixon you've wasted your time—and mine.  That’s a luxury I can’t afford.  As fine as you may be, and believe me you are without a doubt the finest woman my mother has ever stampeded my way, I'm just not interested.  Of course, if she'd paraded you around a few months ago I would've..." Adrian stopped mid-sentence when his Blackberry chimed.  Retrieving it from his pocket, he hit a button then used the pad of his thumb to scroll through his message.  Another minute passed before Adrian slipped the multimedia device back in his pants pocket and looked up.  “Where were we?  Oh yes, the set up.”

"Excuse me?" Indignant, Milan bolted out of her chair, hands resting on either side of her hips.

Adrian thought she looked ready to do battle, her heaving chest pulling the material of her suit taut across it.  He swallowed slowly.  

Milan’s eyes darkened.  "You think this is a come on?”

Coming around the expansive desk, he stopped just shy of wearing her.  He was impressed she stood her ground.  Despite his best intentions, his eyes devoured her.  “Like it isn’t?”

Stunned, it was a few seconds before Milan spoke.  When she did, her voice chilled the air around them.  “Of all the stuck up, rude, ego tripping, loud mouth idiots I've come across in my travels, you, Mr. Anderson, set the precedence!"  Milan grabbed her linen jacket off the leather chair and flung it over her arm.  She pulled a resume out of her briefcase.  In one fluid motion she flicked it on his designer desk then turned on her heel.  At the door, Milan glanced back over her shoulder and shot him a look that spoke volumes.  "Oh, just so you know, your mother gave me your business card because I needed an experienced, competent realtor.  She also mentioned you were looking to add an interior designer to your practice.  Regrettably, Mrs. Anderson didn't warn me in advance how vain and unprofessional her son was.  She could've saved me the cost of valet parking."

His office door slammed shut with such force it sent one of his numerous realtor awards crashing to the floor.

<< Back | Next >>