Love and Other Surprises (21 page)

As he topped the crest, he froze in his tracks and blinked hard.
What the hell was going on?
His work crew was crawling in the dirt like a bunch of anteaters, their heads down, their rumps aimed at the sky. One trim, shapely backside stood out from the rest. He’d recognize that rump anywhere, he thought grimly.
Ali.

Matt felt his temper build like a thundercloud. He’d told her the bankers were coming; how dare she stage a scene like this?

Time enough to deal with her later. Right now he needed to try to salvage the situation. Maybe he could steer the bankers in the other direction.

Too late. The five men in business suits had joined him on the hill and were staring down at the scene below.

“I found it!” roared Big Jim, jumping in the air with an upraised arm, his enormous belly jiggling. The work crew noisily applauded and whistled as Jim handed something to Ali.

“What in heaven’s name is going on here?” Mr. Armstrong demanded, his round face puckered in alarm.

Ali whirled toward them. “Matt! Mr. Armstrong!” She scrambled up the hill, extended her hand to the banker and fixed him with an enchanting smile. “So nice to see you! Sorry we looked so undignified just now, but I dropped a contact lens and the men were helping me find it.”

“I see.” Placated, the broad man patted her hand and smiled. “Glad you found it, dear. Gentlemen, this is the little lady responsible for the interiors of these homes. Ali, I’d like to introduce you to the bank’s board of directors.”

She had charmed her way right out of the situation. The sense of relief Matt knew he should be feeling was overshadowed by a sense of outrage. He hated being so out of control. He’d told her the bankers were coming this afternoon, dammit, and he’d specifically requested that she make sure things were in order.

She fixed him with a winsome smile. “Matt, why don’t you take these gentlemen on a tour of the cottage?” Ali suggested. “I’ll see to my contact, then I’ll join you.”

Matt had no choice but to comply. Ali caught up with the group on the porch of the house with the turret.

Mr. Armstrong turned to her and beamed. “Ali, I love what you’ve done with the interiors.”

Ali smiled. “Thank you. You’ll have to come back for the open house and see them with furnishings. Did Matt tell you about it?”

“No,” said Mr. Armstrong, casting a glance at Matt that indicated he considered it a serious oversight. “But I saw the ad in the Sunday newspaper. My wife can’t wait to come.”

Ad in the newspaper? Why wasn’t he consulted about this?

“I’m delighted to hear that.”

They stepped onto the porch and Ali opened the door. Matt hung back until the rest of the group had entered the house. He brushed by Ali, his shoulder touching hers in the doorway. Despite his aggravation, a shiver of attraction shot down his arm. The fact only increased his irritation; she was making him as out of control as she was, and he didn’t like it one little bit.

“Sorry,” she whispered, stepping back.

“You damn well should be,” he muttered stiffly. The air was charged between them. Their eyes collided, and Matt read the confusion in her wide gray gaze as it clashed against his own.

The woman had no idea she’d done anything wrong, didn’t even have a clue why he was upset. The realization rankled all the more, because it made
him
feel like
he
was being unreasonable.

Which he most certainly was not. Matt blew out an exasperated blast of air as Ali darted from the doorway. He ran a finger around the neck of his shirt, which suddenly seemed to have grown too tight and too hot, and followed the others into the living room, where murmurs of approval were coming from the board members.

Ali addressed the group with ease and graciousness, giving them the history of the antique fireplace mantel, then directing them into the kitchen. Despite his irritation, he admired her aplomb. She was good—damned good. She had them in the palm of her hand. For some reason, the thought annoyed him all the more.

He tagged along as the group made the turn into the dining room where three painters were at work, their backs to the crowd. The man standing on the stepladder looked vaguely familiar. Matt stared at the back of his head as Ali talked, trying to place him. When he turned to dip his brush in the paint can, recognition poured over Matt like a pitcher of cold water.

“Derrick! What the hell are
you
doing here?”

“His new company is handling the painting and papering,” Ali offered quickly. “Their bid was more reasonable than the one from our regular subcontractor and they could get started sooner. Since you told me to go ahead and handle the interiors, I hired them while you were out of town. I think they’ve done an excellent job, don’t you?”

Matt stifled a sharp retort as the board members nodded their concurrence. There was nothing to be gained from making a scene, no matter how badly he itched to give her a piece of his mind.

How dare she hire Derrick, knowing full well how much he disliked the man? And why hadn’t he been informed? He felt like a fool, not knowing what was going on in his own company.

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 to 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.