In The Market For Love. Joy Avery
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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.
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