Love and Other Surprises

by Robin Wells

  The whole situation made his blood boil. Matt seethed in silence as Ali continued to play gracious hostess.

  “Everything looks great here, Matt,” Mr. Armstrong said as the group returned to their cars. “We’re pleased and proud that Frontier Fidelity could play a role in your project.”

  “Yes, indeed. This is just the sort of creative thinking we’re looking for,” chimed in the board president. “Let us know whenever you have a project that needs financing and we’ll give you priority treatment.”

  He should be thrilled, but he was too angry to appreciate the good news.

  “Thank you,” he managed, trying to muster an appropriate tone of gratitude. He curled and uncurled his fingers, biding his time, waiting until the cars drove out of sight before he turned to Ali.

  She gave him a smile bright enough to charm a snake. “The visit went well, don’t you think?”

  “Do you really want to know what I think?” Matt snapped.

  Ali’s gray eyes grew wary. She drew herself to her full height and squared her shoulders. “I have a feeling I don’t, but go ahead and tell me anyway.”

  “I think it’s a miracle they didn’t call the note on the spot, the way you greeted them with the entire crew on their knees like a bunch of praying mantisses.”

  “They were helping me find my contact lens.”

  “It looked damned unprofessional.”

  “Once I explained the situation, it was perfectly understandable.”

  “I told you I wanted to make a good impression.”

  “And we did.” Ali threw her palms up in a gesture of exasperation. “Just because things don’t go exactly as planned doesn’t mean they’re going wrong.”

  Matt loomed over her. “It does when I don’t even know what’s going on in my own company. Why didn’t you tell me ads were running in Sunday’s paper?”

  “You told me to handle it, and you were out of town.”

  “That’s no excuse.” He glowered at her. “I didn’t authorize any advertising expenditures and I didn’t approve any ad copy.”

  “It was a very inexpensive, simple ad—”

  “That’s not the point! I’m supposed to have final approval.”

  “You mean control.”

  There was that word again. Irritation boiled inside of him. “Worst of all, Ali, why the hell did you hire Derrick Atchison? The moment my back was turned, you deliberately contracted a man you know I despise.”

  “If you’d just listen to reason for a moment—”

  Matt threw out his hands. “What reason could you possibly have for hiring a low-down, scum-sucking river rat like that?”

  Ali’s arms went rigid at her sides. “It must be nice to be perfect,” she said icily. “It must be wonderful to be so sure that your way is the only way, to be so far above reproach that you don’t dare sully yourself by associating with anyone who’s ever made a mistake. People can change, you know.” She raised an eyebrow meaningfully. “Or perhaps you don’t. It’s a concept you should investigate, Matt.”

  “Just what in blue blazes do you mean by that?”

  Her eyes flashed. “I mean it would do you good to learn a little tolerance and flexibility. You don’t always have to be in control, you know. Other people can occasionally manage without your guidance.”

  “If you’re talking about yourself, and I assume you are, the only thing you seem able to manage is leaving havoc in your wake and escaping total disaster by the skin of your teeth.”

  Her glare was hot enough to leave a sunburn. “You’ll only have to put up with it for two more weeks. When the open house is over, I’ll be out of your life forever.”

  “Won’t be a moment too soon,” Matt retorted. “In fact, why don’t we put it in writing? I’ll have my attorney send you the papers finalizing the buy-out agreement.”

  “Sounds good to me. I have no interest in working with a know-it-all, stuffed-shirt control freak.” She tilted her chin up. “As soon as this project is over, I’m moving back to Dallas. With any luck, I’ll never set eyes on you again.” She whipped around and marched off, leaving Matt to glare after her.

  Well, fine. That was what he’d wanted all along.

  Wasn’t it?

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. Yes, of course it was.

  So why did the sight of her retreating back make his heart plummet like a dropped roofing hammer?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Matt flipped to the last page of the thick legal document that had come in the afternoon mail, his gaze scanning the page until it lit on Ali’s signature, written in a bold, angry scrawl.

  She’d signed the buy-out agreement. Effective midnight Saturday, he’d be the sole owner of Cimarron Homebuilders. By all rights, he should feel elated. But for some reason the victory left him flat and empty.

  “What’s with you and Ali?” Hattie asked, handing him the rest of his mail.

  “You mean this?” He pointed to the contract. “I planned to buy out her shares all along.”

  “I was referring to the fact you haven’t spoken two words to each other all week.”

  Less than that, Matt thought grimly. He’d gone out of his way to steer clear of her ever since their argument. He’d driven past the job site without stopping on four different occasions because he’d seen her car there, and at the office, he’d taken to confining himself behind closed doors.

  But he wasn’t the only one going out of his way to avoid contact. When he’d accidentally encountered her in the office hallway, she’d treated him like he had terminal halitosis and she was afraid it was contagious.

  Matt leaned back in his chair and looked up at his secretary. “We had a difference of opinion.”

  Hattie eyed him reprovingly. “Well, you need to straighten it out. You’re grumpy as a plucked buzzard. Besides, you’ll have to be civil to each other at the open house on Saturday, and it’ll be a whole lot easier if you iron things out before then.”

  Matt waved the document. “There’s nothing to iron out. As soon as Ali’s little shindig is over, so is our partnership.”

  Hattie shook her head. “If you let that girl go, it’ll be the worst mistake of your life.”

  “The worst mistake of my life was having anything to do with her in the first place.”

  The older woman frowned. “I don’t understand you, Matt. Ali’s doing you a big favor, but you’re acting like she’s an enemy. The photographer for that national magazine will be in town tomorrow to shoot the houses for a layout, the newspaper is doing a feature about them and half the town is coming to the open house. Your firm is going to be famous, and those houses are going to sell like hotcakes. You should be showering her with bouquets and thank you notes instead of trying to get rid of her.”

  Matt scowled. “She’ll probably make us look like a bunch of damn fools. No telling what she and her open house committee are doing to those houses.” He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “What’s she up to today?”

  “Arranging furniture. It was all delivered this morning.”

  Matt pushed back his chair. “I’d better go see.”

  Hattie wagged her finger at him. “You mark my word, Matt. You’ll miss that gal when she’s gone.” She marched out of his office in a rustle of starched cotton.

  Matt rose and pulled on his jacket. Hattie knew nothing about it, he thought stubbornly.

  He missed her already.

  He let out a long sigh. He must be deranged; he seemed to be obsessed with her. The fact she was complete anathema to him did nothing to keep her from taunting his thoughts all day and all night, regardless of what he was doing or where he was—in his car, at his desk, in his bed…

  Especially in bed. Sleep had become an elusive stranger that dodged him all night as he chased after thoughts of Ali.

  Dadblast it all! She was driving him insane, and it just proved how right he was to want nothing further to do with the woman. Once she cleared out of Hillsboro, maybe life would return t
o normal. Maybe he’d finally be able to eat and sleep and focus his thoughts again. Maybe he’d even be able to stop feeling like a refugee at his own place of business.

  He raked a hand through his hair, shoved the legal document into his coat pocket and strode out the door.

  Her car was nowhere in sight when he pulled up in front of the turreted house twenty minutes later. Instead of relief, however, he felt a perverse sense of disappointment. It was a good thing this blasted open house was nearly over with, he thought darkly. Her absence had begun to bother him just as much as her presence. He couldn’t wait until she went back to Dallas and quit tormenting him.

  The sky was threatening and the air smelled like rain as Matt strode to the door. He closed the heavy beveled glass door behind him, shutting out the loud rustle of the wind in the trees, and flipped on a light against the premature darkness of the impending storm.

  When he turned around, the sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks.

  “Whoa!” What the heck had Ali done to the place?

  He ran a hand through his hair and looked around, his astonished gaze taking in the polished mahogany furniture, the striking paintings, the Oriental rugs, the lamps, and dozens of other small touches that made the room warm and alive. It even smelled good, like cinnamon and berries.

  He didn’t know what he’d expected. Maybe a few sticks of furniture here and there, a couple of goofy pictures on the wall, some artsy-schmartsy touches. He sure hadn’t expected the house to look like a warm, inviting, elegant home. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the owners had run out on an errand and would be back at any minute.

  Matt strolled through the house, taking in the collection of porcelain pigs in the kitchen, the child’s wagon used as an end table in the playroom, the surprising, tasteful mix of antiques and new pieces in room after room.

  It was beautiful, all right, with just a touch of whimsy and humor. Just like Ali.

  Matt gave a low whistle as he finished his tour. The place was nothing short of spectacular— a regular showplace.

  Which was, after all, what she’d set out to do.

  The realization stopped him short, sharpening the dull ache he always felt when he thought about Ali into a wrenching pain. He sat on the stairs, his head in his hands, his heart at his feet.

  He’d been a fool. An utter, stubborn fool. He’d completely misjudged her. His preconceptions had blinded him, preventing him from seeing what a bright, capable, creative woman she was.

  Worse, he’d been a jerk. A first-class, stuffed-shirt, closed-minded jerk. He’d treated her like a child in need of supervision instead of an equal partner. He’d vastly underestimated her skills.

  Vastly underestimated her. He swore under his breath, all of his anger at her fizzling like day-old soda pop.

  Hell, she couldn’t help the fact that she’d lost a contact lens. And he had told her to handle the interiors, which gave her the right to hire anyone she pleased. And so what if she’d run an ad in the paper without discussing it with him? He’d been out of town. As half owner of the company, she’d had every right.

  Why had he made such a big deal out of it? Was he looking for reasons to find fault with her?

  Matt loosened his tie, his heart sagging under the weight of the answer.

  Yes. He’d been looking for something to discredit her, for anything to stem the growing tide of tenderness that welled up inside him whenever he saw her, whenever he thought of her. His anger had been nothing but a cardboard firewall, a flimsy attempt to protect himself from the torch he was carrying for her.

  Now that he’d realized it, what the heck was he going to do about it?

  He heard a noise on the first floor and jumped to his feet, hoping it was Ali. Feeling more alive than he had in days, he raced down the stairs and headed toward the sound. He rounded the corner, his heart pounding, and nearly bumped into a man in white painter’s overalls, crouching down and peering at a door jamb.

  Derrick Atchison. A bitter taste filled Matt’s mouth. “What are you doing here?”

  “Ali told me the movers scuffed the doorway when they brought in the furniture today, so I came back to touch it up.” Straightening, Derrick nervously wiped his hands on his white painter’s pants. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you for giving me a chance on this job, Matt. It was mighty big of you— especially after everything that’s happened between us. My counselor at the alcohol treatment center told me I’m lucky to have friends like you and Ali. Not everyone gets a chance to start over so early in recovery, and I want you to know I’m grateful.” He stuck out his hand.

  Derrick had gone to treatment? Matt stared at his outstretched hand as the words sank in. A problem like alcoholism would explain his inability to keep a job, his erratic life-style, his lack of responsibility, his crude behavior.

  And now he was trying to recover?

  It all made sense now. That was why Ali had given him the painting contract—she was trying to help him get back on his feet.

  Matt inwardly winced. She’d tried to explain, but he wouldn’t listen. He’d ranted and raved and railed at her when her motivations had been kind and good-hearted and generous.

  Matt shifted uneasily, feeling about two inches high. He had to find her. He didn’t know what he was going to say or do, but somehow he had to set things right. He only hoped he wasn’t too late.

  He grasped Derrick’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “I’m glad you’re straightening out your life. Looks like you have a bright future ahead, judging from the job you did here.”

  Derrick grinned broadly and pumped Matt’s hand. “Thanks.”

  “Do you know where Ali is?”

  “Last time I saw her, she was headed home.”

  Matt started for the door. “Lock up when you leave—looks like a bad storm is coming.”

  Derrick nodded. “Sure thing. I’m almost done.”

  Matt strode purposefully back to his truck. The wind whipped the trees and scuttled the clouds across the sky as he yanked open the door of the company pickup and climbed inside. It was just like Ali to give someone another chance, he thought as he started the engine. One question reverberated in his mind as he guided the truck away from the curb. Would she give him another chance, too?

  Black clouds boiled in the eastern sky as Matt drove to Ali’s house. This time of year in Oklahoma, clouds like that could be dangerous. Matt flipped on the truck radio and scanned the channels for a weather report.

  “A tornado warning is in effect until nine o’clock this evening,” an announcer intoned. “Funnels have been sighted ten miles east of Hillsboro, moving in a westerly direction. Residents should be prepared to take shelter.”

  Matt stepped on the gas, intent on reaching Ali. If anything happened to her…

  The thought made his blood run cold. The first drops of rain splattered on his windshield as another thought struck him, this one with the force of a cyclone.

  I love her.

  Stunned, Matt stared at the road. Water beaded and ran on the glass, blurring his vision, and he absently switched on the wipers. Until this moment, he’d had no idea what he was going to do or say when he saw her. He’d been acting purely on impulse, an unheard of state of affairs for him. And now he knew why.

  He loved her. Why hadn’t he realized it before now?

  The swishing rubber blades seemed to clear his mind as well as the windshield. The truth stretched in front of him like the white lines on the road, stark and bright and laid out in a row.

  All of his efforts to avoid her, to find fault with her, to be angry at her, were nothing more than feeble attempts to deny an undeniable truth.

  He loved her. He rubbed his forehead, trying to puzzle out how such a thing could have happened without his knowledge, without his permission. He hadn’t planned to fall in love with anyone, much less with Ali. He had no intention of repeating the mistake he’d made with Elise.

  The rain began to fall in earnest, thundering
on the roof of the truck as Matt was struck with another jarring thought. Maybe the mistake he’d made with Elise wasn’t falling in love, wasn’t even getting married. Maybe the mistake was just picking the wrong woman.

  The wipers sluiced back and forth, the glass growing cleaner and clearer. Ali was completely different from Elise, from any woman Matt had ever known. It stood to reason that a relationship with her would be different, too. She was warm and kind and giving, the type of woman who loved and accepted people, who gave them second chances, who knew how to make a house a home, who brightened a room just by walking into it.

  Who’d brightened his life just by walking into it.

  Matt squinted, as much in concentration as in an effort to see through the driving rain. Yes, she was unpredictable, and yes, confusion did seem to surround her like a cloud of perfume, but so did love and joy and a zest for life.

  Matt’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. His life was sorely lacking in all those things. It might be well-ordered and predictable, but it was also sterile and cold and empty.

  What was it Ali had said? Things don’t always go according to plan, but that doesn’t mean they’re going wrong.

  He pressed his foot to the accelerator, anxious to close the distance separating them. If he was ever going to have a chance at happiness, real happiness, this was it. One thing was for sure: life with Ali would never be boring.

  The wail of a siren keened through the air and Matt rolled down his window to better hear it, ignoring the rain splattering his face. It wasn’t an approaching ambulance or a police car as he’d first thought; it was the town’s emergency warning system cautioning people to take shelter.

  Alarm raced through him. He turned up the volume of the radio but got only static. The local station was off the air.

  He peered up at the blackened sky, which seemed to be getting darker as he neared Ali’s home, and was gripped by a cold fear. He’d seen some bad storms in his thirty-one years, but he’d never seen anything like this.

  His mouth set in a grim line, he drove as fast as he dared, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles ached.