Love and Other Surprises (9 page)

Ali’s heart skipped a beat at the admission. There was no denying a strong, instinctive pull toward Matt. Every time he’d touched her, her senses had buzzed and reeled, and when they’d laughed together, she’d felt the same sense of connectedness she’d experienced when they’d talked about Robert. She was certain he’d felt it, too.

But his practical nature had evidently overridden his sense of romance. Well, she needed to follow his example. He’d made it quite clear he had an aversion to involvement.

Ali sighed as she picked up the empty pitcher and the towels and headed back to the country club. She needed to face it: a romantic relationship with Matt was not only a bad idea, but totally out of the question. No matter how appealing he was, no matter how intrigued she might be with the idea that he had a gentle, caring side tucked away inside his armadillo-tough exterior, she had no business yearning for a romance with a man who exhibited all of the domineering, rigid, stuffed-shirt personality traits she’d vowed to avoid.

Besides, Matt was a business partner—and a reluctant one at that. Under the best of circumstances it was a mistake to mix business with pleasure, and in this situation, it would no doubt be disastrous.

Instead of mooning over Matt, she needed to focus on her goal. After all, working on Robert’s designs wasn’t just a job to her; it was her chance to repay the big brother who had so often taken care of her. It was a final act of love—and in a way, it was her declaration of independence.

Ali dropped off the towels and headed back outside to her car, lifting her chin in resolve. From now on, she’d show Matt Jordan nothing but logic and reason and order. She’d just forget how she’d melted in his arms on the dance floor. She wouldn’t notice how the corners of his eyes formed those devastatingly attractive wrinkles when he smiled. And she wouldn’t think about how he’d forever changed her perception of what a kiss could be.

Chapter Six

Ali paused outside the double mahogany doors and eyed the engraved brass sign. Cimarron Homebuilders. This was it, all right. Even without the sign, she would have guessed that this was the right place. The thick Georgian columns on the two-story brick structure reminded her of her brother’s fondness for neoclassic architecture.

But the building was much more impressive than she’d imagined. Intimidating, almost.

Like Matt.

Ali squared her shoulders. She was here to claim her rightful place in the company and nothing—Matt Jordan included—was going to stop her. She straightened the jacket of her red wool suit, shifted her black leather briefcase to her other hand and pushed her way through the doorway.

The exterior looked like Robert, but the interior was pure Matt—modern, masculine, clean-lined. It was surprising how well the two different styles blended together. Much like the two men’s personalities must have blended in their business, Ali thought as she crossed a brick foyer to the reception area.

She stopped in front of a massive desk and addressed a middle-aged woman seated behind it. “I’d like to see Matt Jordan, please.”

The woman regarded her with friendly curiosity. “I’m afraid Mr. Jordan is tied up in a meeting. Is there something I can help you with, Miss, er…”

“McAlester,” Ali supplied.

“Robert’s sister?” The woman smiled broadly and rose from her chair, extending both of her hands toward Ali as she circled the desk. “But of course. I recognize you from the pictures he used to keep in his office. I thought you looked familiar the moment you walked in. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!”

Ali took her hands and grinned. “Thank you. You must be Hattie.”

The woman nodded. “None other.”

“Robert spoke of you often. He was very fond of you.”

Hattie’s brown eyes grew moist behind her bifocals. “It was mutual. He and Matt were like sons to me.” A single tear escaped from her full eyes. “I want to apologize for not attending the funeral. I didn’t dare go for fear I’d make a spectacle of myself.”

Hattie’s tears made Ali feel perilously close to crying herself. She swallowed hard and impulsively put her arm around the diminutive woman. “I don’t blame you at all,” she said softly. “The truth is I was such a mess myself I wouldn’t have known if you were there or not.”

Hattie nodded and clutched Ali’s free hand. Ali patted her shoulder, and the two women shared a moment of empathetic silence. By the time Hattie pulled away, Ali knew she’d found a new friend.

“Can I get you anything?” Hattie asked. “Coffee? A cola?”

“No, thank you. But I’ll tell you what I would like. Do you think I could wait for Matt in Robert’s old office?”

“Certainly.” Hattie smiled. “I’ll show you where it is.”

Ali followed her down the carpeted hallway to a door with a brass plate that read Robert H. McAlester.

Ali reached up and ran a finger over the name. A wave of grief rolled through her, grief sharpened by a sense of injustice. Robert should be on the other side of the door, doing the work he loved. It wasn’t fair that he wasn’t, that he never would again. It wasn’t fair that a drunk driver should be alive and her talented brother’s life should be over.

Hattie eyed her sympathetically. “I know just how you feel,” she said gently. “Every time I see his name up there I get weepy, too.”

Ali gave Hattie a tremulous smile, drew a steadying breath and opened the door. She stepped into the large office and gazed around, taking in the unadorned walls, the bare oak desk and the empty bookshelves in the corner. She turned quizzically to Hattie. “All of Robert’s things are gone.”

“Matt boxed them up and took them to your house,” Hattie explained.

Ali paused, remembering the drafting tools. “That explains the box in the garage.”

Hattie nodded sympathetically. “Matt thought cleaning out Robert’s office might be hard on you. He’s the one who handled everything at the house, too, you know.”

Ali stared at her in surprise. “I thought the attorneys hired someone.”

Hattie shook her head. “It was Matt.”

The information rattled Ali. She vaguely remembered someone at the funeral asking if she wanted help sorting through Robert’s belongings and closing up the house. She’d thought it was a representative from her attorney’s office, and had responded that she couldn’t bear to even think about it.

But it had been Matt. At the time, she’d been in such a fog of grief and shock that it hadn’t registered.

Ali turned to the window as the extent of the details Matt had handled began to sink in. He would have had to deal with everything from stopping the mail to disposing of the food in the kitchen. He must have boxed up Robert’s clothes and toiletries, canceled the phone service and performed innumerable other painful chores. Ali knew how hard it was to sort through the remains of a life; she’d done it when her mother had died, and she’d felt as though she couldn’t go through it again after Robert’s accident.

But it couldn’t have been easy for Matt, either, Ali reflected. The two men had been the closest of friends. A lump formed in Ali’s throat. Matt had spared her a tremendous amount of grief and hadn’t even told her about it.

“Are you all right?” Hattie asked, her brow creased with concern.

Ali realized she was still staring out the window, sightlessly gazing at the wind-tossed oak trees on the empty lot across the street. She turned to face the older woman. “I’m fine.”

Hattie hesitated, her hand on the door. “Well, I’ll let Matt know you’re here as soon as his meeting breaks up,” she said. “Are you sure I can’t bring you anything?”

“I’m sure. Thank you.”

Alone in the room, Ali walked to the desk and tentatively lowered herself into the chair. Matt was a complex man, she mused. Robert had described him as structured and methodical, and she knew from personal experience that he could be maddeningly domineering. But she’d discovered at Lauren’s wedding that he also had an unexpected sense of humor. And the sensuous, passionate nature he’d revealed when he’d kissed her had shocked her to the core.

This new information, however, was even more disturbing than that mind-numbing kiss. It revealed a deeply kind and thoughtful side, and in her opinion, nothing made a man sexier than being kind and thoughtful.

Ali spun around in the swivel chair, trying to spin the idea out of her head, and deliberately directed her thoughts along a less dangerous path.

Business. Keep your mind on business.

Well, she could only hope Matt would apply some of his kind, thoughtful nature to her business proposition. Perhaps he would be more receptive now that he’d had a chance to get used to the idea. She certainly hoped so—especially in view of the drastic action she’d taken this morning.

Chances were it would make him angry. After all, Matt thought she’d given up on her plan to play an active role in the company. Ali worried her bottom lip, her stomach tightening at the thought of a confrontation with Matt.

Face it—the thought of any encounter with Matt makes you uneasy.
The reason wasn’t a lack of confidence in her ability to hold her own when it came to business. What had her worried was the distressing way he affected her physically.

Abruptly, she pushed out of the chair and headed to the window. Staring out, she gave herself a silent pep talk. Okay, so she was attracted to Matt. So what? It didn’t mean she was going to act on it. Lots of people experienced attractions they never did anything about. In any case, her plans were too important to allow for any distractions. Matt was her business partner—even if he didn’t know it yet—and she intended to limit her involvement with him to working on the Victorian Village.

Deliberately turning her thoughts in that direction, Ali strode to the drafting table and opened a set of neatly bound blueprints that lay on top of it. Pay dirt! They were the plans for Robert’s homes. Ali pulled up a chair and determinedly settled down to study them.

By the time the door opened twenty minutes later, she was completely engrossed.

“Ali! What a surprise.”

Ali jumped at Matt’s voice and jerked her head toward the doorway. Despite her earlier resolution, her heart pounded at the sight of him.

“
l suppose you came for the grand tour. Let me show you around.”

It wasn’t why she’d come, but it was probably a good idea, Ali decided. She was curious about the business facilities. Besides, a tour would buy her time to calm herself before she brought up a topic he was sure to find unpleasant. “I’d love to see the place,” she replied.

Matt held the door. Her arm accidently brushed his rock-hard chest as she walked by and a hot tingle singed its way to her shoulder. “Excuse me,” she murmured.

“Sorry,” he said simultaneously.

She quickly moved away, but not before she’d inhaled his clean, masculine scent. Ali’s palms grew damp.
I
need to find out what shaving cream he uses and start applying it to Flipper,
she thought as she followed Matt down the hall.
If I start associating that scent with a dog, maybe I won’t have this reaction to it.

Matt drew a ragged breath and opened a heavy door, careful to back away as Ali stepped up to peer in. He didn’t want to risk any further contact with her; his chest still felt the imprint of her touch and his pulse revved like a race car.

“This is the conference room.”

“Who do you usually meet with?”

He glanced down at her and found her appearance so distracting he could hardly follow the conversation. She was drop-dead gorgeous in that red suit, and she seemed oblivious to the fact. She brushed a wisp of hair from her forehead and he followed the motion of her fingers, mesmerized. Her thick chestnut mane was pulled back from her face with combs, but little strands escaped at her temples and ears, softly framing her face.

He found himself wondering if the springy curls felt as soft as they looked. He’d like to find out; he’d love to plunge his fingers into her heavy, herbal-scented tresses, tilt back her head and find out if her lips were really as luscious as the memory that had plagued him all weekend.

What’s gotten into you, Jordan? If you’re going to fantasize about Ali, you might as well fantasize about being in traction, because that’s where you’re likely to end up.

She was looking at him expectantly, and Matt realized she was still waiting for an answer to her question.

“Clients, subcontractors, realtors and investors,” he responded curtly. “I also do some consulting with out-of-state developers.” He snapped off the light and ushered her down the hallway.

Matt had intended to give her a cursory tour and send her on her way as soon as possible, but Ali peppered him with questions as he guided her through the building. To his surprise, he found he enjoyed answering them. The business was his favorite topic and he’d never had a more raptly attentive audience. It was only natural she’d be interested in her late brother’s business, he reasoned.

“I’m impressed,” Ali said sincerely as they completed their rounds of the building. “I had no idea your operation was this large.”

He was impressed, too. Her questions were perceptive and indicated she had a surprisingly good grasp of the basics of home building.

In spite of his earlier misgivings, Matt felt his chest swell with pride. “Would you like to see the equipment yard?” he asked impulsively.

“Sure.”

Once outside, Matt noticed that several of the men stopped their work to eye Ali appreciatively. He followed their gaze to her legs as a gust of wind blew up her hem to reveal a lacy black slip and a provocative length of slender thigh. His mind shifted to the nightie he’d glimpsed in her kitchen, and he wondered about her taste in lingerie. What was she wearing or not wearing under her businesslike suit?

The thought made his mouth run dry. Another gust caught her skirt from the other side and he swallowed hard. She was studying the equipment, completely unaware of the effect she was having on him or the other men around her.

It was one thing for him to admire her assets, and quite another for anyone else to get an eyeful. He was vaguely aware that his logic was flawed, but decided to act on it anyway.