Best Laid Plans. Brenda Jackson

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      After getting a master’s degree at MIT, Nolan had begun working for Chenault Electronics at their Chicago office. Chenault Electronics was considered one of the top ten electronics companies in the world. The owner, Nicholas Chenault, was a family friend and had taken Nolan under his wing and had not only been his boss but his mentor as well. After eight years working for Chenault, Nolan had returned to Houston to start his own company.

      Nolan leaned back in his chair. He had returned from spending two weeks in Paris just yesterday. In a way, he regretted being back in Houston. Before leaving, he had done everything in his power to become the life of every party, and his reputation as Houston’s number one playboy had been cemented. In some circles, he’d been pegged as Mr. One-Night Stand since most of his dates were one-night stands. Now that he was back, that role had to be revived.

      It hadn’t taken him long to discover the life of a Casanova was pretty damn taxing and way too demanding. The nights of mindless, emotionless sex with women whose names he barely remembered wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. He only hoped that Ivy Chapman’s grandmother and his great-grandmother were getting the message—he had no intentions of settling down anytime soon. At least not in the next twenty-five years or so.

      Unfortunately, it seemed nothing was deterring Ivy Chapman.

      Nolan picked up the envelope on top of the stack on his desk. He knew what it was and who it had come from. He recalled getting the first one three months ago and he had received several more since then. He wondered why Ivy Chapman was still sending him these little personal notes when he refused to acknowledge them. All of the notes said the same thing... Nolan, I would love to meet you. Call me so it can be arranged. Here is my number...

      Nolan didn’t give a royal flip what her phone number was since he had no intentions of calling her. He would continue to ignore Miss Chapman and any correspondence she sent him. No matter what, he refused to give in to his great-grandmother’s matchmaking shenanigans. He refused to be manipulated.

      Tossing the envelope aside, he picked up his cell phone to call his family and let them know he was back. He had slept off jet lag most of yesterday and hadn’t talked to anyone other than his cousin Reese and his brother Corbin. Reese and his wife, Kenna, were expecting their first baby in June and everyone was excited.

      Nolan ended the call with his parents, stood and walked over to the window to look out. Like most of his relatives, he leased space in the Madaris Building. His electronics company was across the hall from Madaris Explorations, owned by his older cousin Dex.

      He loved Houston in March, but it always brought out dicey weather. You had some warm days but there were days when winter refused to fade into the background while spring tried emerging. He was ready for warmer days and couldn’t wait to spend time at the cottage he’d purchased last year on Tiki Island, which was on the Galveston Bay. He’d hired Ron Seamore as the property manager to handle the leasing of the cottage whenever he wasn’t using it. So far it had turned out to be not only a great investment, but also a splendid getaway place whenever he needed a break from the demands of his job, life itself and yes, of course, the women who tried demanding his time.

      The buzzer sounded and he walked back over to his desk. “Yes, Marlene?” Marlene was an older woman in her fifties who’d worked as his administrative assistant since he started the company three years ago.

      “There’s a woman here to see you, Mr. Madaris. She doesn’t have an appointment and says it’s important.”

      Nolan frowned, glancing at his watch. It wasn’t even ten in the morning. Who would show up at his office without an appointment and at this hour? “Who is she?”

      “A Miss Ivy Chapman.”

      He guessed she was tired of sending notes that went unanswered. Hadn’t she heard around town what a scoundrel he was? The last man any woman should be interested in? So what was she doing here?

      There was only one way to find out.

      “Send her in, Marlene.”

      “Yes, Mr. Madaris.”

      Nolan had eased into his jacket and straightened his tie before his office door swung open. The first thing he saw was a huge bouquet of flowers that was bigger than the person carrying them. Why was the woman bringing him flowers? Did she honestly think a huge bouquet of flowers would work when her cute little notes hadn’t?

      He couldn’t see the woman’s face for the huge vase of flowers, and without saying a word, not even so much as a good morning, she plopped the monstrosity on his desk with a loud thump. It was a wonder the vase hadn’t cracked. Hell, maybe it had. He could just imagine water spilling all over his desk.

      Nolan looked from the flowers that were taking up entirely too much space on his desk to the woman who’d unceremoniously placed them there. He was not prepared for the beauty of the soft brown eyes behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses or the perfect roundness of her face and the creamy cocoa coloring of her complexion. And he couldn’t miss the fullness of her lips that were pursed tight in anger.

      “I’m only going to warn you but this once, Nolan Madaris. Do not send me any more flowers. Doing so won’t change a thing. I’ve decided to come tell you personally—the same thing I’ve repeatedly told your great-grandmother and my grandmother—there is no way I’d ever become involved with you. Ever.”

      Her words shocked him to the point that he could only stand there and stare at her. She’d crossed her arms over her chest and stared back. “Well?” she asked in a voice filled with annoyance when he continued to stare at her and say nothing. “Do I make myself clear?”

      Finding his voice, Nolan said, “You most certainly do. However, there’s a problem and I consider it a major one.”

      Those beautiful eyes were razor sharp and directed at him. “And just what problem is that?”

      Now it was he who turned a cutting gaze on her. “I never sent you any flowers. Today or ever.”

      * * *

      IVY CHAPMAN STARED at the man who had the gall to make such an outlandish statement. Of course he’d been sending her flowers. His name had been signed on every card. She’d got one bouquet after another over the past three months. And the card always said the same thing. Ivy, I would love to meet you. Call me so it can be arranged. Here is my number...

      “What do you mean you didn’t send me any flowers?”

      Dark eyes filled with agitation bored into her. “Just what I said. I haven’t sent you any flowers.”

      “Are you or are you not Nolan Madaris?” She asked the question, although she knew the answer. Over the past year his face had appeared often in the Houston newspapers as one of the city’s most eligible bachelors.

      “Yes, I’m Nolan Madaris. At least one of them. I’m the third. My father is the second and my grandfather is the first. However, I can say with a degree of certainty that they didn’t send you any flowers either.”

      Ivy frowned. “Look at the card. If it didn’t come from you, then who did it come from?”

      The man had the nerve to scowl at her before snatching the envelope off the flowers and opening it. A frown spread across his СКАЧАТЬ