by Robin Wells
From the corner of his eye, Matt saw Ali head toward the ladder. Alarm raced through him and he quickly stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.
“Going up after him.”
He’d heard enough about Ali’s mishaps to shudder at the thought of her climbing a ladder. “Why don’t you just call him?”
“Because I’m afraid he’ll jump.”
The thought struck Matt as ludicrous, but Ali looked so worried that he repressed the urge to smile. “Unless he’s some sort of rare kamikaze breed, there’s no way that dog is going to hurl himself off the roof.”
“You don’t know Flipper like I do.”
She’s even nuttier than I imagined, Matt thought as he peered up at the mongrel. The little beast was sitting on the eave directly above them, thumping its sorry excuse of a tail. Matt moved the ladder and reached up his arm. “Come on, fella. Here’s the ladder—come on down. Here, boy,” Matt coaxed.
“Don’t encourage him!” Ali warned.
“I’m telling you, there’s no way that dog is going to jump.” Matt turned his attention back to Flipper and gave an encouraging whistle.
Flipper immediately dropped the Frisbee, yapped twice and hurled himself off the roof, executing a neat flip in midair.
Matt reflexively dived for the dog, hitting the ground in a way that would have made his old college baseball coach proud. He cautiously opened one eye to find a warm, furry bundle squirming in his arms.
“Flipper! Oh, sweetie, I’m so glad you’re okay!”
Matt opened his other eye to see Ali kneeling beside him. He caught a whiff of her perfume, something enticingly faint and soft and warm. The scent added to his overall confusion. She took the wriggling dog from his arms and cradled the creature to her chest.
“H-he jumped,” Matt mumbled, raising himself cautiously on one elbow and inventorying his body parts. His backside hurt like the dickens, but otherwise he seemed okay. He slowly hauled himself to his feet.
“I warned you. Are you all right?” Still clutching the dog in one arm, Ali turned to Matt and began dusting him off.
Matt again inhaled her intriguing scent as she brushed the back of his jacket. He felt a sudden, irrational compulsion to get closer to her just to smell her better. Realizing he was on dangerous ground, Matt backed away. “Tm sure I will be once you tell me what just happened here.”
“I was trying to get the toy off the roof and Flipper went up the ladder.” Ali nuzzled the animal under her chin and Flipper responded by licking her cheek.
Matt eyed the dog suspiciously. As far as he could tell, the creature looked like an everyday, run-of-the-mill mutt. “So what’s the explanation for the flying back-flip action?”
“Flipper used to be a circus performer.” Ali stroked the dog’s head. “He knows lots of tricks. The problem is, I don’t know what all of them are.”
“Uh-huh. I see,” said Matt. His tone implied he didn’t see at all. “And just how did you happen to end up with a circus dog as a house pet?”
“His trainer took him to the SPCA. He said he was too much trouble.” Ali shook her head. “Can you believe a person would give away a sweet little dog like this for a silly reason like that?”
Was she for real? Matt shook his head at her. “It defies the imagination,” he said dryly.
“Well, thanks for catching him,” Ali said. “You probably saved Flipper’s life.”
Matt was about to make a sarcastic reply, but her smile was so warm that the words stuck in his throat. He found himself staring at her, taking in her wind-chapped cheeks, her tousled hair and the expression of unabashed affection lighting her eyes as she cuddled her dog. It was enough to make him envy the mutt.
“You had a new trick to show me, hmm?” Ali cooed to the animal. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“You can say that again,” Matt muttered, but he wasn’t thinking of the dog. His eyes were riveted on her lips as she kissed the top of Flipper’s head. He swallowed hard and found himself responsively running his tongue over his own mouth. “I’d better put the ladder in the garage before Flipper decides to give a repeat performance,” he said abruptly.
“Good idea. Thanks.”
But Matt didn’t immediately move. He was oddly mesmerized by the motion of her fingers stroking Flipper’s fur.
“I’ll go make us some hot tea. Just come on in when you’re done.” She looked up and grinned, and Matt felt his mouth go dry. Her smile was like a burst of midsummer sunshine, and Matt found himself wanting to bask in it.
With an effort, he pulled his eyes away. “Okay.” He headed for the ladder, pausing to pick up the miniature disc from the lawn.
Watch out, Jordan, he warned himself. She already had one male doing back flips for her. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be doing them, too.
Chapter Three
Ali closed the kitchen door and set Flipper on the Mexican tile floor. “Well, boy, we certainly made quite an impression,” she told her pet as she peeled off her mittens. She stuffed them in her coat pocket, then pulled off her parka and hung it on the coat rack in the corner. “Not exactly the calm, normal image I hoped to project, but an impression nonetheless.”
Lifting the teakettle from the stove, Ali turned to the sink and gazed out the window.
Matt was walking toward the garage with the ladder slung under his arm as though it were weightless. Ali stared, engrossed by his easy, masculine grace. Robert had told her Matt often worked side-by-šide with his work crew, and his physique certainly testified to the fact. He had the build of a man accustomed to using his muscles. His shoulders were broad and straight, and his thighs were so muscular that they strained against the denim fabric of his jeans with every step.
Whatever else he might be, there was no denying that Matt Jordan was one fine figure of a man. Ali watched his breath cloud the cold air and found the sight somehow sensual. He looked warm and male and… hot-blooded.
Ali realized the kettle was overflowing. “Keep your mind on business,” she scolded herself, turning off the faucet and pouring out some of the water before she placed the kettle on the burner.
After all, business was undoubtedly the reason for Matt’s unexpected appearance this afternoon. She needed to be focusing her energies on how to best convince him to let her play an active role in his company instead of admiring his biceps.
The thought made Ali frown as she turned and drew two mugs from the cabinet. Matt was evidently impatient to finish their discussion. It had been a mistake to mention her plans to him in the cafe, she thought ruefully. Now she wasn’t going to have the opportunity to present her ideas in a professional setting. Not to mention the fact that the incident outdoors had done nothing to foster the image of a competent, collected businesswoman she’d so hoped to project the next time she saw him.
Well, she could correct some of the damage by showing him documents to support her ideas. Surely facts and figures would convince Matt that she could make a positive contribution to the project.
Ali hurried to the desk in the living room that served as her home office, pulled a design association magazine out of her briefcase and strategically placed it on the living room coffee table. “There,” she murmured.
By the time she heard Matt open the door a few minutes later, she felt more than ready to present her case.
But then he stepped into the kitchen, filling the room, making it suddenly seem both smaller and warmer. A primal awareness made her pulse lurch. Annoyed at herself, she stepped toward him. “Let me take your coat.”
Matt shrugged off his jacket and handed it to her. She carried it across the room to the coatrack, inhaling the scent of leather and shaving cream.
A fleeting fantasy raced through her mind—the image of Matt stripped to the waist, his face lathered, his biceps bulging as he wielded a razor.
She turned back toward him and her gaze snagged on the dark hair peeking out of his unbu
ttoned shirt collar. Her cheeks burned and she averted her eyes. She couldn’t afford to indulge in ridiculous daydreams—not when her whole future hung in the balance. Especially not when the daydreams left her feeling as rattled as a key chain.
She ran her hands along the sides of her jeans to dry her damp palms. “I’ve put some water on for tea,” she said. “But if you like, I can make some coffee or get you a soft drink or make some hot chocolate…”
“Tea will be fine.” Matt lounged against the counter and stretched out his legs. “Can I help with anything?”
The question took Ali by surprise. After his Neanderthal behavior at the cafe, she hadn’t figured him for the domestically helpful type. “I’ve almost gotten everything together,” she said. “Why don’t you go on into the living room?”
He pushed off the counter. “Want me to build a fire?”
“Sure. That would be nice.” Ali drew a sigh of relief as he ambled through the doorway. Now that he was out of the kitchen, she could breathe again.
Ali pulled the sugar bowl from the cabinet and placed it on a wicker tray, then took a lemon from the refrigerator. Peering into the living room, she saw Matt kneeling in front of the fireplace, expertly arranging a stack of logs.
Where the heck were the knives? She rummaged through a drawer, then yanked open two more.
She hadn’t unpacked her kitchen utensils yet and wasn’t familiar with Robert’s. For that matter, she wasn’t familiar with much of anything in this house. It occurred to Ali that even though Robert’s insurance had paid off the mortgage and she owned the home outright, she really didn’t feel at home here.
Ali glanced back into the living room. Matt certainly didn’t seem to have that problem. She watched him locate a box of matches in the bookcase with easy familiarity and expertly light the fire. If I were in charge of finding matches, we could have frozen to death, she thought wryly.
Ali finally found a knife and quickly sliced the lemon into wedges. She peeked back in the living room as she arranged them on a small plate. Matt was settled into a wing-backed chair, his leather cowboy boots stretched out under the coffee table. He looked right at home.
Matt must have visited Robert here often, she thought. A twinge of regret again coursed through her that she hadn’t seen her brother at home in his dream house.
A home that Matt built. The thought startled her. Of course—why hadn’t she realized that before? Robert had designed it, but Matt would have been the one to actually oversee its construction. It was the way their partnership had operated.
Ali grabbed a bag of cookies and threw a few on a plate. It was somehow disconcerting to realize that Matt knew intimate details about the place where she lived—the depth of the bathtub, how long she could stay in the shower before she ran out of hot water, the view from the bedroom…
Why am I thinking about Matt and the bedroom? Ali silently chided. This behavior was totally unlike her. If she was going to be the epitome of poise and professionalism, she couldn’t afford to have her thoughts traveling down such dangerously distracting paths.
She picked up the tray, fixed a bright smile on her face and headed for the living room. “The tea will be ready in a moment. Would you care for a cookie?”
“No, thanks.” Matt’s eyes followed her as she set the tray on the coffee table and seated herself on the camelback sofa across from him. The knowledge that he was watching her made her uncharacteristically edgy. She was relieved when Flipper jumped in her lap, and she stroked the little dog’s head, glad to have something to do with her hands.
Matt straightened in his chair. “Ali, I came by to continue our discussion. We need to get this thing settled.” He leaned forward and cleared his throat. “Look, I’m sorry if I came on a little strong earlier.”
That was an understatement. Ali generously decided to let it slide.
“I’ve been giving this situation some thought, and it dawned on me what you’re after,” he continued.
“What I’m after?” she echoed, furrowing her brow.
Matt nodded. “I don’t blame you a bit. In your shoes, I’d be exactly the same way.”
Ali regarded him quizzically. “What way is that? I’m afraid I’m not following you.”
Matt’s lips curled into a tight smile. “There’s no need to play coy. I understand your concerns, and I want to reassure you that the company is being properly managed. If you like, I can let your attorney look at the books to set your mind at ease.”
What on earth was he talking about? The fire crackled and hissed, and Ali bristled. She didn’t like the inference that she was somehow being underhanded. “I’ve never played coy in my life,” she informed him, “and I don’t have any concerns about your management abilities. Robert trusted you, so I do, too.”
Matt shook his head, dismissing her comment with a wave of his hand. “If the situation were reversed, I’d be looking for a way to keep an eye on things, too. After all, we don’t know each other very well, and it’s only natural that you’d want to look out for your own interests. But you really don’t have to go to such lengths to keep me honest.” His mouth tightened again. “Robert was my best friend, and I’m not going to cheat his little sister. I’ll be happy to do whatever I can to reassure you of that fact. If you like, I can submit copies of all checks issued on the company account to your attorney or to any accountant you care to designate.”
He thinks I’m only interested in keeping an eye on my inheritance. The realization rankled; how unfair of him to assume her motives were mercenary! She’d known he was the practical sort, but was he so unfeeling, so motivated purely by facts and figures that he thought everyone else was, too? Ali opened her mouth to protest, then abruptly shut it again.
Getting on the defensive wouldn’t advance her cause. Besides, what did she expect him to think? He didn’t know her from Adam. She needed to explain her motives to get him to listen to her ideas. He might think she was foolish, but it was a risk she had to take.
Ali put the dog on the floor and clasped her fingers tightly in her lap. “I’m not looking for a way to keep you honest. I want to be involved because this project was Robert’s dream, and I want to play a part in making it come true.”
Matt’s tawny eyes took her measure. “What do you even know about the Victorian Village?”
“I was with him when he hit on the idea. He was visiting me in Dallas and we were browsing through an antique store. All of a sudden his face lit up and he asked me what I thought of the idea of building an entire community of Victorian-style homes.”
Matt nodded, his face impassive. At least he appeared to be paying attention.
“I told him I thought it sounded terrific.” She scooted forward on the sofa, eager to convince him. “Since I was there at the conception of this development, Matt, I feel like I have a stake in how it turns out. Besides, I’ve always wanted to work on a project with Robert, and this is my only chance.” To her embarrassment, her eyes filled with tears, and she furiously tried to blink them back. Talking about her brother still made her emotional, but the last thing she wanted to do was stage a messy scene in front of Matt. He’d never take her seriously if he thought she was an emotional wreck.
Through her tear-muddled eyes, she watched him stand. For one terrible moment, she thought he was going to walk out on her. Instead, he crossed the room and sat beside her, lifting both of her hands in his. The tender,sympathetic gesture caught her by surprise, and she stared down at their entwined hands as if they were alien objects. His palms were warm and slightly callused, his fingers strong and brown, his nails short and clean. She was suddenly aware that dusk had fallen and the room was nearly dark except for the light from the fire.
“Look, Ali, I know how important this project was to Robert—and I can see that it’s important to you. It’s important to me, too, and not just for business reasons.” Matt paused and Ali ventured a glance up at his face. In the soft light, his eyes were the color of hot cocoa, and just as w
arm and soothing. Her heart thudded in her chest and she wondered how a man could be so comforting and so unnerving at the same time.
Matt’s thumbs moved across her palms. “Robert was my best friend. It may sound corny, but I see this development as a way of keeping a part of Robert alive. I guess I view it as a memorial to his talent.”
There was more to Matt than she’d realized—a lot more. She gazed down at their fingers, still threaded together, and felt a sense of connectedness weave its way between them. Matt had genuinely cared for her brother, too, she realized. He not only understood how she felt, he felt the same way. He shared her loss, and he shared her goal. There was a bond between them, a bond stronger than their differences.
An undeniable tug of attraction coursed through her. She leaned toward him, drawn by some invisible, magnetic force. The firelight, the faint scent of smoke and Matt’s warm hands wrapped around hers somehow smudged the edges of reality. Her gaze took in the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, the faint shadow of his clean-shaven beard, the deep cleft in his chin. She was studying the sensuous curve of his lips, wondering how they would feel on hers, when she saw them move and realized he was talking.
“What you need to understand is that I have a very well-organized, well-planned program already in place to make that happen.” Matt’s voice was low and gentle and so appealing that it took her a second to comprehend what he was saying. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I’ve got all the bases covered. There isn’t a role for you in this. To be absolutely frank, you’d just be in the way.”
The words struck Ali like a splash of cold water. She stiffened and pulled away, withdrawing her hands from his. “You’re underestimating the contribution I can make.”
Matt rose from the chair and strode to the fireplace. He braced his hands against the thick oak mantel for a moment, then turned toward her. “What do you know about home building, Ali? Would you know if the foundation was level, or if the lumber had too many knot holes?”