by Robin Wells
“I’ll take care of it.” Hattie hesitated at the door. “Can I bring you an aspirin or anything?”
“No. I told you I’m fine,” he snapped.
“If this is fine, I’d hate to see you on a bad day.” Hattie shook her head as she closed the door behind her.
Matt pushed back his chair and sighed. The truth was, he felt terrible. It was no wonder—he’d hardly slept all weekend. He’d spent Saturday night in his car in Ali’s driveway, fighting the urge to march back into her house, pull her into his arms and pick up where he’d left off. He’d lain awake till dawn and had pulled a muscle in his neck trying to stretch out in his car.
He’d spent the whole next day at the office trying to distract himself with work, taking twice as long as usual to accomplish anything because his thoughts kept turning to Ali. He’d gone on a six-mile run last evening, but despite his best efforts to exhaust himself, he’d spent the entire night tossing and turning, haunted by thoughts of her. He’d picked up the phone to call her half a dozen times, only to put it back in its cradle.
Matt massaged his temple, where a dull ache was gaining momentum. Maybe he’d lost his mind. Why else would he have crushed her to him like that and kissed her until he couldn’t see straight?
While she was stark naked, yet!
And why else was he behaving like a besotted schoolboy with a first crush, unable to think about anything but Ali’s laugh and Ali’s face and Ali’s luscious, lovely curves?
The thought sent a fresh ripple of desire coursing through his body. Jamming his hands into his pockets, he strode to the window and gazed out at the sun-dappled woods. Tender leaves were sprouting from gray oak branches and tight blossoms were unfurling on the redbud trees. The scenery was green and hopeful and it quickened something inside him, some part he’d thought was dead and buried.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was lovesick.
The thought made him scowl. He just had a bad a case of spring fever, that was all, and he was projecting his feelings onto Ali.
The woman was a mass of contradictions. How could one person be so endearing and so aggravating at the same time? There were times when she seemed to embody every fantasy he’d ever had. Visions flashed through his mind—Ali dancing at the wedding, looking like an angel in that frilly pink dress; Ali perched on the ladder, smiling down at him; Ali gazing up at him, her eyes dark with desire, her lips moist and parted and begging to be kissed.
Matt gnawed his lower lip. Of course, there was also Ali the human whirlwind—creating one bizarre incident after another, disrupting his business, knocking the breath out of him, literally and figuratively. Tornado Ali was wreaking havoc with his life.
What kind of future could a man have with a woman like that?
What kind of future could he have without her? Matt muttered an oath and turned away from the window. Despite all logic and reason, he wanted her to the point of distraction. He had half a mind to throw caution to the wind, follow his urges and sort it all out later.
Matt’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. “Come in,” he called gruffly.
Speak of the devil. Ali stood in the doorway, wearing some kind of Indian motif skirt that fell to almost to her ankles. Her hair was pulled back from her face and silver Indian-style earrings sparkled at her ears. Another woman might look silly in that getup, but Ali looked stylish and artsy and fresh.
His heart turned over. With the slightest provocation, he’d pull her into his arms and kiss her halfway into tomorrow.
She stood framed in the doorway for a moment, hesitating, then closed the door behind her. “I think we should talk,” she said.
Matt strode to his desk, trying to act like his heart wasn’t pounding like a roofing carpenter’s hammer, and stood behind his chair. “What about?”
“About what happened Saturday.”
Matt swallowed hard. Had she been replaying it in her mind like he had? Had it affected her like it had affected him? Were her insides quivering like a pieœ of wood under a buzzsaw, longing to take up where they’d left off? He was shocked at how desperately he hoped it was so.
“What about it?” he asked, his voice a shade deeper than usual.
Ali crossed the room and seated herself primly on the edge of an armchair across from his desk. “I don’t want it to make things awkward between us.” She folded her hands in her lap and gazed down at them. “It was an unusual situation and we both reacted unusually to its… unusualness. I think we should forget about it and put it behind us and just consider it an unfortunate incident.” She finished the statement in a rush, as if she were hurrying through a rehearsed speech, then glanced up at him from beneath her lashes.
Matt abruptly turned back to the window. He felt like she’d just walloped him in the stomach, but he’d be darned if he let her know it.
“An unfortunate incident.” She made kissing him sound as enjoyable as a root canal. Matt narrowed his eyes as he stared out the window and was glad when anger started to mercifully flow through him, at least partially filling the hole her words had just blasted.
She was absolutely right, of course. The best thing to do was forget about it. Getting involved with her would be completely irrational, and rational behavior was the guiding principle of his life. He’d had a terrible lapse in judgment. He knew better than to even think of a relationship with anyone as erratic and unpredictable as Ali.
She wished it had never happened, did she? Well, that went double for him!
“It was nothing,” he retorted. His hand cut through the air in a dismissive gesture. “It’s already forgotten.” Matt strode to his desk and seated himself behind it, picking up a stack of papers. “It’s never a good idea to mix business and pleasure anyway.”
“No, it’s not. And we’re just too different.”
“Like oil and water,” he agreed.
From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw her posture droop. He couldn’t be sure, because she immediately pulled her shoulders back and raised her head. Her earrings jingled faintly as she lifted her chin. “Fine. I’m glad you agree.” She rose to her feet, her voice brisk and businesslike. “The samples I was waiting on arrived over the weekend. When you get time, I’d like to show you the boards.”
Matt nodded, busily straightening the papers on his desk into three neat, precise stacks. “I’ve got some important things to finish up here, and then I’ve got some appointments.” His tone was stiff and formal. “I’ll try to make time tomorrow or the next day.”
Matt felt the heat of her eyes on him and glanced up. She stood by the chair, twirling the strap of her purse, and for just a moment she seemed to have lost her starch. She looked away, but not before he glimpsed her eyes, which held the look of a wounded deer.
“Fine,” she murmured, turning and closing the door softly behind her.
The room suddenly seemed cold and empty. His anger was replaced by a forlorn sense of distress. She’s disappointed that I’m not eager to see her work.
He pulled three paper clips from his desk and fastened them in careful, identical corners on each stack of paper, then consolidated them into one precise pile, carefully aligning all four edges. It was a sure sign he was agitated; the more upset he was, the more precise he became. It soothed him to bring order to his immediate surroundings when his emotions were in chaos.
Well, so what? he asked himself, trying to recapture some of his earlier indignation. Why should he pretend to be jumping up and down with eagerness to see her designs? He’d told her at the outset that he didn’t need an interior designer, but she’d insisted on imposing her services on him anyway. Besides, if she were to get the idea that her contributions were valuable, she’d probably want to stay on and continue to work at the firm after the project was completed.
So why did he feel like such a heel? After all, she’d been the one who’d bruised his ego.
More than bruised, he thought, unconsciously rubbing his chest—completely defl
ated.
Well, it served him right for thinking about her in terms he never should have considered. Hadn’t he known from the start that she was nothing but trouble?
Chapter Eleven
“So how are things at work?” Lauren asked, handing Ali a glass of iced tea.
“Okay, I guess.” Ali leaned against Lauren’s kitchen counter and took a sip, watching her friend peer through the window in the oven door. “Mmm… Is that apple pie?”
Lauren straightened and eyed her keenly. “Yes, but don’t try to change the subject. What do you mean, ‘okay’? Didn’t you show Matt your designs last week?”
Ali set her glass on the countertop and sighed. When she’d accepted Lauren’s dinner invitation, she’d hoped to get her mind off Matt for an evening. Heaven only knew she needed a reprieve from the thoughts of him that hounded her at home as well as work.
Her newly painted walls were a constant reminder. She avoided her own living room, she took showers instead of baths and she’d removed the picnic quilt from her bedroom. She couldn’t seem to escape him even in sleep. Not that her restless, all-night thrashing actually counted as sleep.
The last thing she wanted to do right now was talk about Matt, but she knew Lauren, and she knew her friend wouldn’t be diverted from the topic until her curiosity was satisfied. “I showed Matt the designs, but he didn’t respond exactly like I’d envisioned.”
Lauren pulled a blue oven mitt off a hook by the stove and fitted it on her hand. “Didn’t he like them? What did he say?”
“He said they were fine.”
Lauren’s brow knit in confusion. “So what’s the problem?”
Have you got three hours to listen to a sob story? Ali decided to confine her remarks to work. “He said ‘fine’—not ‘good,’ not ‘creative,’ just ‘fine’! I’ve spent more time and effort on this than on any project in my career, and all the man can say is ‘fine’!” Ali’s voice vibrated with frustration. “He barely looked at them. He spent more time going over the cost estimates than looking at the boards.” Ali slapped her hand on the countertop. “I swear, Lauren, he’s the most obstinate, pigheaded, frustrating man I’ve ever had to deal with!”
Lauren eyed her with amusement. “Sounds to me like you’ve got it bad.”
“Got what bad?”
“A case for Matt.”
“The only case I’d like to have for that man would be filled with dynamite.”
“So there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”
Ali hesitated and glanced at Lauren. Her friend knew her too well for her to bluff her way out of answering. Besides, Ali needed to talk to someone. The problem was she dreaded putting her feelings into words; if she left them unspoken, unexamined, unnamed, maybe she wouldn’t have to address them.
Who am I trying to kid?
“No. Yes—no!” Ali ran a hand through her hair and began pacing the kitchen. “There’s a physical attraction between us, but we’re too different for anything serious to develop.”
“Opposites can do more than just attract, Ali. Sometimes they’re perfect for balancing each other out.” Lauren eyed her curiously. “So tell me, have you done anything about this attraction?”
“No. Yes. No!” Ali heaved a forceful sigh. “We’ve kissed, but he agrees with me that it was a mistake.”
Lauren held up an oven-mitted hand. “Wait a minute, Let me get this straight. You told him that kissing him was a mistake?” At Ali’s nod, Lauren shook her head in disbelief. “Why on earth did you do that if you care for the guy?”
Ali stared down at her fingers. “The circumstances were kind of… unusual, and we got a little carried away. I didn’t want him avoiding me at work, so I tried to smooth things over.”
Lauren shook her head. “I don’t understand you, Ali. You’re obviously nuts about him. Why didn’t you try to parlay the ‘unusual circumstances’ into a relationship?”
Ali seated herself on a barstool by the counter. “I want a man who believes in me, who has confidence in my judgment. I want someone who feels like I’m an equal, not a liability.” She exhaled harshly. “Besides, Matt’s told me he doesn’t ever want to get married again, and I’m not interested in a casual affair. I want the full-meal deal—commitment, marriage, children.”
Lauren’s forehead creased in a worried frown. “In light of all this, I guess you won’t be pleased with who else is coming to dinner tonight.”
Ali stared at her friend. “You didn’t.”
Lauren shrugged sheepishly. “Afraid I did.” Lauren gazed out the window. “And they’re coming up the walk now.”
“Oh, no!” Ali wailed just as a door opened in the foyer.
“Hello!” called Justin.
“Something sure smells delicious,” said an unmistakably familiar male voice. Ali’s heart pounded traitorously as the two men entered the kitchen.
Matt froze, his smile fading. She forced a smile. “Hello, Matt.”
“Ali.” He gave her a polite nod, his expression shuttered. “It’s a surprise to see you here.”
I’ll bet. Otherwise you wouldn’t have come. “I didn’t expect to see you, either.”
She quickly turned her attention to Justin, hoping to hide the blush she knew was staining her face. “You look great, Justin.” She gave him a warm hug. “Marriage must agree with you.”
“I’ve got no complaints.” The lanky man gave his wife a tender kiss accompanied by such an unabashedly adoring gaze that Ali had to look away. To her consternation, Matt was directly in her line of vision.
He quickly averted his eyes, his gaze settling on the wide window in the breakfast room. It overlooked a long wooden deck, which in turn overlooked a tree-lined pond. Weeping willows, mimosas, poplars and redbuds were sending out tender green shoots, their tiny leaves bright against a dense stand of dark cedars.
“What a terrific view!” Matt remarked, moving toward the window.
“Isn’t it?” Lauren replied with a smile. “The land was Justin’s grandfather’s. The weather’s so pretty tonight that I thought we’d eat outdoors where we can enjoy it. Justin is going to throw some steaks on the grill.”
“Hey, Matt, want to try out my new rod and reel while I’m heating up the coals? The pond is stocked with some good-size perch and catfish.”
“That sounds great,” Matt agreed.
Justin turned to Ali. “How about you, Ali? I can fix you up with a line, too, if you like.”
“I’ll stay here and help Lauren,” she demurred.
Lauren shook her head. “Nonsense! I’ve got everything under control. Besides, I remember how much you loved fishing when we were kids. Go for it!” She gave Ali a meaningful look and a little push toward the back door.
Ali found herself following Matt and Justin down the sloping lawn to a wooden storage shed, silently fuming about her friend’s none-too-subtle matchmaking techniques. She stood awkwardly outside the little building with Matt as Justin rummaged inside.
Ali pretended a keen interest in a flowering dogwood and Matt silently studied the pond as tension coiled between them.
She was vainly searching her mind for an excuse to back out of the outing when Justin emerged and presented each of them with a rod and reel.
Ali eyed the shiny equipment dubiously. “I’ve always fished with an old-fashioned pole. Maybe I should just go back inside and visit with Lauren.”
“This is just as easy to use once you get the hang of it. Matt can show you everything you need to know.” Justin closed the door to the shed with a bang. “The fish were biting under that big willow last night,” he said, pointing to a spot halfway around the pond. “I caught two good-sized sun perch.”
“Sounds like a good spot. Thanks, Justin,” Matt replied.
Justin waved his hand and headed back to tend the grill. Matt turned to Ali. “Ready?”
Ali hesitated, then nodded. She couldn’t avoid him forever; after all, she did have to work with him, and they needed to get
comfortable again in each other’s company. Maybe a fishing expedition would help normalize things between them.
She imitated the way Matt shouldered his rod and reel and trudged along beside him, searching for something to say.
“It’s beautiful here,” she commented. The topic had already been covered, but nothing else came to mind and she was desperate to break the silence. “I knew Justin lived in the country, but I didn’t expect anything like his.”
Matt nodded. “It’s nice—and so’s this gear. The winner of last year’s striper tournament at Lake Texoma used a rig just like the one you’re carrying.”
“Oh,” Ali said. She felt as awkward and unsure as a schoolgirl. “Do you want to trade?”
Matt’s face softened into a grin. “No. This one’s just as nice. But thanks for the offer.”
They fell into another silence as they followed a path around the pond. “It sounds like you know a lot about fishing,” Ali remarked.
Matt shrugged. “I don’t get much of chance to enjoy the sport, but I’ve always loved it.”
Ali looked at him in surprise. “I never would have guessed that of you.”
Matt slowly raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”
Ali lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know. It’s not the sort of thing I thought you’d do.”
She paused to readjust her grip on the pole and Matt stopped, too, his brown eyes drinking her in. She wasn’t dressed in anything fancy, just faded jeans and a yellow knit top, but she looked good enough to eat. It took all of his considerable willpower to keep from pulling her into his arms and kissing her senseless. He knew just how she liked it—slow and soft at first, then deepening and building, growing harder and faster until his lips were doing what the rest of him longed to do: claim full and complete possession.
He realized the conversational ball was in his court and she was waiting for him to say something. “Why would you think I wouldn’t like to fish?”
She lifted her shoulders. “It’s not predictable. You can’t control whether the fish bite or not.”
Matt cast her a sidelong glance and resumed walking. Did she really see him as such a control freak? He didn’t find the image the least bit flattering.