by Robin Wells
Well, he only had to put up with her for a couple of months. Surely he could handle that. Just two short months, then life would be back to normal.
Cheered by the thought, Matt grabbed his coat and headed down the hall. He pulled up short when he saw one of his carpenters fiddling with the door to her office.
“What are you doing?” Matt asked.
The man pointed a screwdriver at Robert’s nameplate, which dangled by a single screw. “Takin’ this off for the little lady.”
Matt stared at the wobbling nameplate and clenched his jaw. He wasn’t ready to have it removed. No one could ever replace his close friend and partner, and seeing the empty screw holes in the door would only remind him of his loss.
Ali must intend to put her name on the door. Tension coiled through his neck. How dare she make a decision like this without consulting him—especially since he’d made it clear that their partnership was temporary? Who did she think she was?
Your new business partner, he reminded himself grimly, whether you like it or not.
Still, there was something high-handed about the move that struck a nerve. He brushed past the carpenter and entered the office.
The nameplate wasn’t the only change, he realized as he stood in the middle of the room and looked around. She’d wasted no time putting her imprint on the place. She’d already rearranged the furniture, and from the number of plants strewn about the office, it looked like she’d bought out the local nursery. He spotted Ali in the corner behind a ficus tree, half hidden by its leaves as she tugged it into position.
Play it cool, he warned himself.
“What’s going on here?” he asked as casually as he could manage.
She looked up and smiled. “Just settling in.”
“I see you couldn’t wait to get your own name on the door,” he commented.
Ali straightened, wiped her hands on her jeans and regarded him quizzically. Matt thrust his hands into his pockets and tried to look nonchalant, but he had the uneasy feeling that she saw right through his act. “I’m not interested in having a nameplate,” she said quietly. “I just don’t want to feel sad every time I walk through the door. Seeing Robert’s name up there was pretty hard to take. I hope you don’t mind. I thought I’d put up a doorknocker to hide the screw holes.”
Matt guiltily diverted his gaze to the floor. Nothing she’d ever done or said gave him cause to think she was into self-aggrandizement, and he knew she missed Robert as much as he did. Maybe more; she was Robert’s sister, for heaven’s sake. He was looking for reasons to dislike her. Matt shifted uneasily. Give her a break, he told himself.
“Actually, I’ve been meaning to take it down myself,” he admitted. “I just never could quite bring myself to do it.”
Ali gave him an empathetic smile. “I know how that is,” she said softly. “I felt the same way about making any changes at the house, even though the place reminds me so strongly of Robert I practically feel like crying every time I walk through the door. Then it dawned on me that Robert never knowingly made me sad when he was alive, and he wouldn’t want to do it now.”
Matt regarded her with interest. “So what are you planning to do?”
“Redecorate. Re-paint and paper the walls, reupholster the living room furniture, hang some new window treatments.”
What the heck was a “window treatment”? The windows were fine as far as he could tell. “I don’t know who does upholstery work, but I’ll give you the names of the paint and wallpaper subcontractors we use,” Matt offered. “I’m sure they’ll give you a break on the cost.”
“Thanks. I’ll need their names for the work on the spec houses, but I plan to do the work at home myself.” She gave him a teasing grin. “Although I’m accepting weekend volunteers. Care to sign up?”
Matt raked a hand through his hair. It was no doubt the sort of thing Robert would have done for his sister, and his original intention had been to look out for her like a brother. Besides, Matt’s conscience burned over the way he’d practically accused her of being eager to get her name on the door. What the heck, he thought. It wouldn’t hurt him to play good Samaritan for a couple of weekends.
“I’ll help—but only if you lock up Flapper. I don’t want to be climbing any ladders with your kamikaze stunt dog around.”
“His name is Flipper,” Ali corrected with a grin. “And I promise to keep him outside whenever a ladder is involved. Thanks, Matt.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said.
Her expression suddenly turned serious. “There’s something else I haven’t thanked you for—taking care of the house and sorting through Robert’s belongings after the accident. It was a huge job and I know it must have been painful for you.” Her eyes were soft and warm, and they melted something inside him. “I don’t know why, but I didn’t realize you’d handled it until I talked to Hattie today. I guess I just assumed the attorneys for the estate had taken care of it. Anyway, I want you to know that you saved me a lot of grief. I—I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”
The way her eyes misted over made a lump form in his throat. “Hey, I was glad to help.”
They stood regarding each other as emotion crackled between them. If she’d been anybody else, he probably would have reached out and hugged her, but he didn’t trust himself to touch her. There was something between them—something that thickened the air and made it hard to breathe, something that made casual contact impossible.
With an effort, he cleared his throat. “I’m supposed to meet the framing contractor at the job site, so we’d better get a move on.”
Maybe fresh air would clear his thinking. He sure hoped something would, because whenever he got around Ali, his thoughts grew as muddy as a pair of old workboots.
Chapter Seven
Here we are,” Matt said, steering the company pickup onto an unpaved road.
Ali braced her hand on the dashboard as the truck bounced over the rough dirt. Thank goodness the ride was almost over; the pickup cab was entirely too small and intimate for comfort. Or maybe Matt was just too large and disturbing. Either way, being confined in such close proximity to him made her edgy as a cat on a ledge.
Clutching her hands together in her lap, Ali angled her shoulder away from him and gazed out the windshield at the hillside. The beginnings of spring were sprouting in the wintery landscape. Oak, redbud and persimmon trees covered the rolling hills in varied shades of tender green.
“Oh, Matt, it’s beautiful here,” she breathed.
Matt tossed her a sideways grin as he steered the truck around a particularly deep rut. ”l hope twenty qualified homebuyers agree with you. See those stakes?” He pointed to a line of orange sticks set at regular intervals among the trees.
Ali nodded. “What are they?”
“Markers for the lots.”
“They look large,” Ali remarked.
“About an acre each,” Matt affirmed. “We made them large to help preserve the natural beauty of the area. We’re working carefully to preserve as many trees as possible, too.” He shifted gears as the truck climbed a hill. “Robert and I gambled that the location was pretty enough that people wouldn’t mind the ten-minute drive to town.”
“I bet you’re right,” Ali said. “I know I wouldn’t mind it at all.”
Matt pulled the pickup to the side of the road behind a red flatbed truck and turned off the engine. Ali’s eyes followed his hands as he removed the key from the ignition.
During the brief drive from the office, she’d found herself frequently watching his hands, noting how his fingers rested lightly on the steering wheel, how they shifted gears with easy strength. His hands were strong, tanned and covered with a sprinkling of dark masculine hair, and she found them objects of fascination. They were the hands of a man accustomed to using them and they set her imagination to racing.
The truth was that just about every part of the man was fantasy material, Ali thought ruefully. To keep her mind from wanderin
g into dangerous territory, she’d kept up a steady stream of questions about the development during the ride.
“There’s the first house,” Matt said, nodding toward a wooden skeleton of a home set back in the trees. “If you had a chance to look at the plans, you’ll recognize it as the one with the wraparound porch.”
Ali anxiously peered out the passenger door window, glad to have something to focus on besides Matt’s masculine attributes. “Oh, that’s my favorite!” she exclaimed. “And look—there’s the round turret at the corner.”
Matt rested his arm on the back of the seat and leaned toward her as he looked out at the structure, his eyes intent and glowing. “Looks like they got most of the framing up today.” His voice held a note of satisfaction that made her glance up at him. Pleasure played across the strong planes of his face and radiated from his light brown eyes.
This development means as much to him as it does to me, Ali thought with surprise. He really loves his work. Somehow, she’d never thought of Matt in those terms. He’d been the practical one, the workhorse, the one who made Robert’s exciting designs become reality. It hadn’t dawned on her that he would get as much satisfaction from his end of the business as Robert had from his.
“Let’s go have a look,” he said, opening his door.
Ali reached for the door handle on the passenger side. Matt shot her a staying glance. “I’ll come around and get the door for you,” he instructed. “Just stay put.”
Ali hesitated, appreciating the masculine courtesy but feeling silly just sitting there while he circled the truck. She’d compromise, she decided. She’d open the door, but let him help her down.
The door stuck slightly. Ali threw her full weight against it— just as Matt came alongside.
“Ooomph!” he gasped. The force of it sent him careening down the drainage ditch that ran beside the road.
“Oh, no!” Ali moaned, flinging herself out of the truck after him.
The ground sloped away sharply under her feet. She found herself staggering down the three-foot embankment in an attempt to retain her footing, gaining momentum as she lurched wildly down the slope, only stopping when she crashed into Matt and toppled both of them into the ditch.
“Are you all right?” Matt gasped.
She realized with a shock that he lay under her. She could feel the hardness of his chest, the muscle of his thighs, the heat of his hands beside her breasts. His face was so close to hers that his beard rasped her chin and his breath warmed her cheek. It smelled faintly of root beer and Juicy Fruit gum, a combination she found unexpectedly erotic.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Are you?”
Golden eyes poured into hers. The blood in her veins suddenly seemed warmer and thicker and faster, pumping through her body in double time.
Her pulse pounded in her ears and she wasn’t sure she could breathe. Maybe I’ll pass out, she thought wildly. Maybe I’d be better off if I did.
Her gaze fell on his mouth. His lips were slightly parted and close—so very close. They looked full and firm and… delicious. Was he going to kiss her?
“Yes,” he said thickly.
She thought he was reading her mind. It took her a moment to realize he was responding to her earlier question.
His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on her ribs, and she glanced up again at his eyes. The desire she saw there was a mirror of her own. His gaze slid slowly to her lips. He raised his head, and she lowered hers.
The contact was everything she remembered and more—explosive, jarring, melting. She parted her lips and closed her eyes, awash in ripples of sweet heat. His tongue demanded entrance. She granted it and moved against him, oblivious to everything but Matt’s hard, firm body beneath her, his mouth moving on hers, his hands doing the very things she’d fantasized.
The sound of an approaching truck engine vaguely entered her consciousness. “Someone’s coming,” Matt whispered abruptly. “I’ll help you up.”
A pair of strong arms pushed her up and off. Disoriented, Ali opened her eyes as she landed in a sitting position. Matt stood above her, stretching down a hand. She reflexively reached up for it and let him haul her to her feet.
She stood just as a green pickup with the Cimarron Home-builders logo on the door rounded the corner. Matt waved to the two employees inside, who stared at them with frankly curious expressions.
“That was a damn fool stunt you just pulled,” he said in a tight voice.
Ali felt heat suffuse her face from her neck to the roots of her hair. She had to admit she’d been shamelessly willing, but why was he placing all the blame on her?
“It so happens you kissed me,” she retorted.
Matt jammed his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight uneasily. “That’s not what I’m talking about—although it wouldn’t have happened if you’d followed directions. Why didn’t you wait in the truck and let me get the door for you?”
Ali crossed her arms defensively. She was still trying to recover from the breathless way his kiss had affected her. She lifted her head, met his blazing eyes and decided she’d give as good as she got. If he could channel his passion into anger, she could, too.
“There’s no need to give me special treatment just because I’m a woman,” she replied. “I’m your business partner, and I’m perfectly capable of opening my own doors.”
Matt scowled and swatted a leaf off the sleeve of his jacket. “Yeah, and of knocking me down in the process.” He slapped at his other sleeve and shot her a frown. “For your information, I wasn’t trying to open the door just to be polite. I parked on an incline and I was trying to keep you from breaking your neck when you got out of the truck.”
Heat flooded Ali’s cheeks. “Well, why didn’t you just say so?” she said indignantly.
Matt shrugged and pulled his hands from his pockets. “I didn’t know I needed to. I hadn’t figured you for the type to get offended at a simple courteous gesture.”
The comment made Ali bristle. How dare he twist things around so that she sounded like the rudest sort of ingrate? Ali huffily turned away, only to find the house with the round turret directly in her line of vision. The sight put a damper on her indignation.
She needed to stay on peaceable terms with Matt if she were going to work with him. She couldn’t afford to indulge her temper, and she definitely couldn’t afford to tell him what she really thought of him and his high-handed ways.
It takes a strong person to admit a mistake, she reminded herself. She brushed a stray wisp of hair from her face, drew a deep, steadying breath and unclenched her teeth. “I didn’t mean to hit you with the door,” she forced herself to say. Even if it did serve you right.
Her admission seemed to catch him off guard. An expression of confusion and wariness flitted across his face and he raked a hand through his hair. “Well, I didn’t mean to get carried away. It won’t happen again,” he mumbled. He looked away, then glanced back at her. “You’d better brush off your jacket. The framing foreman’s coming and you’re covered with leaves.”
Ali wiped at her sleeve as an enormous man with the reddest complexion she’d ever seen approached.
Matt managed to put a smile on his face. “Hi, Jim. Looks like you’ve been busy out here.” He pumped the man’s hand and turned to Ali. “Ali, this is Jim Bentmore, our framing foreman. Most folks call him Big Jim. Jim, this is Robert’s sister. She’s going to be handling the interior design of the first three houses.”
Jim smiled broadly and doffed his baseball cap. “Well, well. Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Ali replied, immediately liking the man’s open, friendly face. She cast a quick glance at Matt, surprised that he had so graciously introduced her in her new role. She’d halfway expected him to downplay the part she was going to play in the development.
“I thought the world of your brother,” Big Jim was saying, his brown eyes warm and sincere. He turned to Matt and nodded. “Good idea, getting a woman�
��s touch. Smart thinkin’.”
Matt shoved his hands in his pockets.“Yeah, well…” he muttered. He shifted his stance. “Let’s go take a look at how things are coming along.”
The path was narrow and they trudged along in single file as they wended their way through the trees to the house. Ali followed behind Jim, glad to have another person along to act as a buffer.
She had just begun to relax her tensed muscles when she felt a warm brush against her back. She was certain it wasn’t an overhanging branch; a tree would never cause that tingling sensation to shoot up her spine. It was the same telling thrill that raced through her every time Matt touched her.
Ali turned around sharply. Matt raised an eyebrow and held up two leaves he’d evidently just plucked off her coat. Ali scurried to catch up with Jim. There was something unnervingly intimate about Matt brushing off her clothes—especially when he was doing it so surreptitiously. It made her feel as if they had a secret to keep, as if they’d been lying in the leaves like lovers.
Which they had. Ali’s pulse still throbbed from the feel of his body beneath hers. She’d nearly lost her head, despite the fact it was broad daylight and they’d been in plain sight of the road. She’d been so overwhelmed she’d lost all track of time and space.
She was certain Matt had, too. His reaction had been heated and primal, and he no doubt blamed her for his own unbridled behavior.
Confound him anyway! And confound her for being so drawn to his infuriating, bossy, know-it-all self.
Ali felt Matt brush the back of her jacket again and quickened her stride. The more distance she kept between herself and Matt Jordan, the better off she was going to be.
Three weeks later, Matt took a sip of coffee and grimaced. “What the heck have you done to the coffee, Hattie?”
Hattie pushed a file across his desk and peered over the top of her glasses at him. “Don’t you like it?” she asked mildly.
Matt wrinkled his nose. “It doesn’t taste normal.”
Hattie sorted through the stack of papers in his out box. “Everyone else thinks it’s delicious.”