The Texan's Contested Claim

Three

Sparkly thing?

Garrett snorted as he climbed into bed. How about a hundred volts of electricity shooting up his arm?

But he sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that to Ali. If he’d learned nothing else during his thirty-six years of living, it was never reveal your weaknesses to your enemy.

Enemy?

Frowning thoughtfully, he folded his hands behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling, unsure if that tag still fit. If the stories Ali had told him today were true, she was looking more like a victim, than the enemy.

Her dropping out of college up north and finishing her education in Texas was true enough. He’d unearthed that nugget about her past while doing his own research prior to making the trip to Austin. But nothing he’d found had indicated her move to Texas was due to her parents cutting her off. He might’ve dismissed her story as exaggeration, if he hadn’t already heard his stepmother describe her adoptive parents as cold and heartless people. But in Garrett’s opinion, what Ali’s parents had done to her was inexcusable. Imagine, a parent who would knowingly leave his child with no money, no job and no prospects…

He shook his head ruefully. Ali was just damn lucky she’d had a fairy godmother waiting in the wings. No telling what would’ve happened to her if Mimi and Claire hadn’t come along, offering her a place to live, as well as the means to support herself.

He frowned, more than a little surprised by the level of compassion he felt building toward Ali. He was going to have to be careful, he told himself. Prior to coming to Austin, he’d had a laundry list of reasons to despise her. He couldn’t allow a hard-luck story blind him to the hurt she’d caused his stepmother or allow it to distract him from his purpose for being in her home.

Her life might resemble Cinderella’s, but he sure as hell was no Prince Charming, prepared to charge onto the scene to rescue her.

If anything, he’d come to destroy her.

To prove it, he reached for his cell phone and punched in the number of his lawyer.

“Hey, Tom. Garrett. Sorry to call you at home and at such a late hour, but I need you to do some research for me. See if you can locate information on a woman by the name of Margaret Fleming. Her last address was in Saudi Arabia, but she owned property in Austin, Texas.

“No,” he replied to Tom’s question. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Future Concepts’ expansion. This is…personal. The woman passed away last November. I want to know who inherited the house she owns in Austin.”

He visited a moment longer, then disconnected the call and settled back on the bed.

Ali may not have realized it, he thought in satisfaction, but there was a strong possibility she’d given him the “price” he needed to win her cooperation. That she loved the house was obvious, and Garrett would bet his controlling shares of stock in Future Concepts that she didn’t own it.

But he would before the month was out.

After chauffeuring Garrett around for three days, Ali had decided two things about her current guest. He had more mood swings than a pregnant woman, and he was the most impatient man she’d ever met in her life.

Most people would just kick back and relax, while riding in a car. Not Garrett. God forbid the man waste a second of his precious time. At the moment, he had his BlackBerry in his hand and was checking his e-mail, a task he had conducted at least four times during the day. It was almost ten o’clock at night, for heaven’s sake! Was his correspondence so important he had to check it even at night?

Noticing the brake lights coming on ahead of her, Ali slowed, adjusting her speed to the long line of cars in front of her.

“Uh-oh.”

Garrett lifted his gaze from his BlackBerry. “Uhoh, what? Why are you stopping?”

She tipped her head at the traffic in front of them. “Construction. I forgot the highway crew closes down all but one lane at night so they can work on the interstate when there is less traffic.”

Scowling, he closed his BlackBerry and began to drum his fingers impatiently on the console.

After sitting for five minutes at a standstill, he swore. “Dammit! This is ridiculous. There’s got to be an alternate route.”

She shook her head. “There’s not. And even if there was,” she added as she looked in the rearview mirror at the long stream of headlights behind her, “there’s no way we can get off the interstate now. We’re trapped between exits.”

His scowl deepened.

The headlights on the cars ahead of her began to blink off, an indication that the drivers had resigned themselves to the delay and had turned off their engines. Ali followed suit, but left the radio playing.

He whipped his head around to peer at her. “Why did you turn off the car?”

She lifted a shoulder and slid down in her seat, making herself more comfortable. “No sense wasting gas. These delays can last up to a half hour or more.”

“A half hour!”

“Would you lighten up?” she said with a laugh. “A little delay isn’t going to kill you.”

He burned her with a look, then turned his gaze back to the windshield to glare through the darkness at the stalled traffic.

Deciding he needed a distraction, she twisted the dial to an oldies’ station and cranked up the radio to an earsplitting level.

He clapped his hands over his ears. “What the hell are you doing?” he cried.

She opened her door. “Creating a diversion,” she replied as she climbed out. Rounding the hood, she opened the passenger door and grabbed his hand. “Come on, Garrett. They’re playing our song.”

“What?” he said in confusion, as she all but dragged him out of the car.

“Music. Dance. Get it?” She dropped her hands to her hips, with a disgusted huff. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how to dance.”

“I know how.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder and stepped in close. “So dance with me.”

Garrett shot an uneasy glance around at the cars behind them, sure that everyone was staring at them and laughing. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered.

“No,” she informed him. “It’s spontaneous. Fun. Something I don’t think you have nearly enough of.”

He probably could’ve resisted, was sure he would have climbed back into the car, if she hadn’t pressed her body against his and begun to sway to the slow beat of the Righteous Brothers’ song pumping from the car’s speakers.

Without conscious thought, he began to sway, too, his body moving in rhythm with hers. A heartbeat later he was guiding her in a slow dance around the car. Later he would be grateful for the darkness, the lack of headlights, would probably curse himself for the chance he had taken in exposing himself to the public eye and the danger he might well have put himself in. But at the moment, all he could think about was how perfectly her body melded to his, how naturally they moved together, how utterly free he felt dancing in the middle of an interstate highway with hundreds of people looking on.

The song ended and he swayed slowly to a stop. Instead of releasing her, he turned his face against her hair, painfully aware of every point where their bodies touched. He felt the quickening of her breath against his neck, the tremble of her fingers within his. One smooth glide of his lips over her hair and his mouth was on hers. The pleasure, the taste of her was like taking a fist in the gut, totally unexpected and hitting low and hard.

Her lips were pillows of satin beneath his, her taste an aphrodisiac that streamed through his bloodstream like fire. A part of him knew he should stop, that kissing her was a mistake, that he was chancing blowing the mission he’d come to Austin to accomplish. But he couldn’t stop. It took the impatient sound of a car horn to force his mouth from hers. Even then he didn’t release her. With his eyes on hers, he searched her gaze, found the same heat in them that fired his veins.

It was Ali who made the first move, taking a step back and hugging her jacket more closely around her. “Uh. Looks like traffic’s starting to move.”

He glanced toward the cars lined in front of them and saw that headlights were blinking on, engines were starting. “Yeah,” he said dully, wondering what had come over him. “Let’s get out of here.”

Ali didn’t know what had happened to Garrett overnight to put him in such a grumpy mood, but if it was because of the kiss they’d shared on the interstate, he could darn well get over it.

She just hoped she could.

She slid a glance his way. Who’d have thought he could kiss like that? Not her, that was for darn sure. In the blink of an eye, he’d turned a spontaneous street dance into a lustfest…and with very little effort on his part.

And she’d thought the tingles she’d felt when they touched were something. Ha! They were nothing compared to the kick she’d received when his lips had touched hers. She released a slow breath, the reminder alone enough to make her want to whip the car over to the shoulder and jump him.

She slanted him another look. So why wasn’t he similarly affected? From the moment he’d appeared for breakfast, he’d done nothing but scowl. And as for conversation… Well, there wasn’t any. They’d been driving all morning, with him giving two-word commands—turn right, turn left, leaving her with no sense of where he wanted to go or exactly what he was looking for.

And as far as the kiss went… Well, he hadn’t said a word about that.

She firmed her lips. Well, if that’s the way he wanted to play it, she could pretend it hadn’t happened, too.

“Maybe if you told me what kind of property you’re interested in,” she said, “I could be of more help.”

He continued to frown at the map displayed on the screen of his portable GPS. “A minimum of ten acres, preferably more.”

“What about accessibility to public transportation?” she asked, hoping to narrow the parameters somewhat. “Wouldn’t that factor into where you’d want to build?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Great,” she muttered under her breath. “Another irresponsible employer adding to Austin’s already burgeoning traffic problems.”

He glanced her way. “I’m not irresponsible.”

“If you build where there’s no access to public transportation, you are,” she informed him. “You’d be adding to traffic and that’s irresponsible in my book.”

Scowling, he turned off the GPS. “For your information, I consider the effect my company has on a city’s traffic, as well as its effect on the environment.”

“How?” she challenged, doubting that he considered anything but profits when he made decisions regarding his company.

“At the current facilities on the East Coast, we offer a shuttle service from specified locations around the city. Employees who take advantage of the shuttle, and those who ride in a carpool with a minimum of two other employees, receive monetary rewards for their efforts. If I build a complex in Austin, I’ll implement the same policy here.”

“If?” she repeated. “I thought building here was a foregone conclusion.”

“Only if I’m able to find a suitable site.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

Having had enough of his sour disposition, she tightened her hands on the wheel. “Why are you in such a bad mood?”

He set the GPS on the floorboard at his feet. “I’m not in a bad mood.”

“Well, you darn sure look like you are.” She held up a hand. “Oh, wait. I forget that expression is normal for you.”

He nailed her with a look. “Are you purposely trying to tick me off? If so, you’re doing a damn good job.”

That’s it, she thought angrily and whipped the car to the side of the road. She’d had all she was going to take of his sour attitude. Ramming the gearshift into Park, she spun on the seat to face him. “Don’t try blaming your bad mood on me,” she warned. “You were grumpy when we started out this morning.”

“Well, maybe if I could get a good night’s sleep, I’d be in a better mood,” he shot back at her.

“And you’re not sleeping is my fault?”

“It is if you’re the one responsible for putting that lousy mattress on the bed.”

Her jaw dropped. “There’s nothing wrong with that mattress! It’s top-of-the-line and almost new.”

“It sags on one side.”

“So sleep on the other! Better yet, sleep in a different bed. You leased the entire house. Pick another one to sleep in.”

“Fine. I want yours.”

She gaped. “You what?”

“I want yours. You said I could have my pick.”

“I didn’t mean mine!”

“Why not? You said I could have my pick.”

“Of the rooms you leased,” she informed him.

“Too late. You already said I could have my pick, and I choose your bed.”

She fought for patience. “If you want to sleep in one of the other rooms upstairs, fine. You certainly paid for the right to sleep wherever you want.”

“I certainly did,” he agreed, “and I choose to sleep in your bed.”

She started to respond, then closed her mouth and narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “You’re just trying to avoid the real issue, aren’t you?”

“And that would be…?”

“Kissing me last night. Well, let me tell you something, buddy,” she went on before he could say anything. “It was no big deal. Okay? As far as I’m concerned it’s forgotten. Over. Done with. Never happened.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, really. I—”

Before she could finish, his mouth was on hers, smothering her words. There was no slow buildup to this kiss. His mouth came down hard on hers, forcing her head back against the seat and her pulse into a gallop. She tasted the anger in him, the heat. A split second later his lips softened, sweeping over hers with a seductive slowness that stole her breath, before he nipped at her lower lip and withdrew. She opened her eyes to find he’d settled in his seat again, his gaze on the windshield.

“Let’s check out the area around Bastrop.”

She stared, wondering if she’d imagined it all. “B-Bastrop?”

“Yeah. From the map I was looking at, it appears to be near Austin, yet far enough away that parcels of land are probably still sold by the acre, rather than by the square inch.”

She straightened and pulled the gearshift into Drive, her hand shaking a bit. “B-Bastrop’s a nice town,” she said, anxious to prove she was as unaffected by the kiss as he seemed to be. “Lots of history and beautiful old homes. I would imagine their tax base is lower than Austin’s, which would be a bonus for your company and whatever employees might choose to live there.”

He pointed to a convenience store up ahead. “Pull over and I’ll buy a paper, so we can check out what’s for sale.”

She turned into the parking lot and pulled up alongside the newspaper rack, her pulse rate almost back to normal. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just call a Realtor?”

“It would,” he agreed, as he climbed from the car, then ducked his head back inside. “Better yet, why don’t I just rent a billboard and announce to the whole world I’m here looking for land?” Muttering under his breath, he slammed the door and strode for the newspaper stand.

Jerk, she thought resentfully as she watched him feed coins into the slot. His paranoia about keeping his presence in Austin a secret was wearing thin. She could see how it made good business-sense for him to play his cards close to his chest. But wasn’t he carrying this a little far? He never took a step out of the house without those stupid sunglasses. And earlier, when she stopped at the window of a fast-food joint to order sodas, he’d slumped down in the seat and kept his face averted, like he was afraid someone was going to recognize him, which was totally nuts. It wasn’t like he was a movie star or something. He was a businessman, for cripes’ sake! Prior to him coming to the Vista, if she had passed him on the street, she wouldn’t have even given him a second look.

Unfortunately he chose that moment to bend over to pull a newspaper from the rack, giving her a full view of his nicely shaped butt, and her mouth went dry as dust. Okay, she admitted, wetting her lips. Maybe she would’ve looked twice. But she doubted she would’ve recognized him. And even if she had, it wouldn’t have occurred to her that he was in Austin to buy property. For all she’d know, he could be on vacation. All this hush-hush, top-secret stuff was ridiculous.

He jumped into the car and slid down in the seat as he slammed the door. “Drive!”

She blinked in surprise. “Excuse me?”

He lifted his head slightly to peer out the rear window, then dropped back down. “I think the guy at the gas pump recognized me.”

“So?”

“So get the hell out of here!” he shouted.

She stomped on the accelerator and careened onto the highway, sending the rearend of the car fishtailing crazily.

“Is he following us?” he asked.

She looked in the rearview mirror and saw that the truck had indeed pulled onto the highway behind them. “I don’t know that he’s following us, but he is behind us.”

“Speed up.”

Though she wasn’t sure the rental she was driving could outrun the truck, she pressed down harder on the accelerator.

“Is he still there?” he asked after a minute.

She glanced in the rearview mirror again. “Yeah. About four car-lengths behind.”

“Faster.”

She shot him a look. “Are you crazy? I’m already going thirty over the speed limit.”

“So go fifty! Just lose him.”

She glanced in the rearview mirror again. “Uh-oh,” she murmured, and lifted her foot off the accelerator.

“What are you doing?” he yelled. “I said speed up, not slow down!”

“I don’t know what whirling red lights mean where you’re from,” she told him, “but in Texas, they mean pull over.”

He sat up and looked out the rear window. “Ah, hell,” he groaned, then turned to scowl at her. “You might have told me the cops around here drive unmarked vehicles.”

“And ruin your fun?” she said sweetly. She hit the button to lower the window and greeted the patrolman approaching the car. “Good morning, Officer.”

He touched a finger to the brim of his hat. “Morning, ma’am. Is there a reason you were driving forty-five miles per hour over the speed limit?”

“Only one,” she replied, and hooked a thumb over her shoulder at Garrett. “Him.”

Garrett hissed a breath between his teeth, then yanked off his sunglasses and leaned around Ali to look up at the policeman. “My fault entirely,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were a police officer.”

“Ah,” the patrolman said, nodding. “So speeding’s all right, so long as the law isn’t around.”

“No, no, no,” Garrett replied in frustration. “That’s not what I meant, at all. I was buying a newspaper and saw you watching me. I thought you’d recognized me, so I told Ali to lose you.”

“Why don’t you dig yourself a little deeper?” Ali said under her breath.

Garrett burned her with a look, then shifted his gaze to the police officer again. “I’m Garrett Miller,” he said, as if that explained everything.

The officer looked at Ali. “What? Is he some kind of rock star or something?”

Ali rolled her lips inward, to keep from laughing. “Uh. No, sir. He owns Future Concepts, a computer company.”

When the officer’s expression remained blank, she looked over at Garrett and shrugged. “Your turn.”

“It’s not funny,” Garrett snapped as he flopped down on the sofa.

“No, it’s not,” Ali agreed, trying her best to hide her smile. “But if you could have seen your face when Officer Wilhelm told you to put your hands on the trunk of the car and spread ’em….” She sputtered a laugh, unable to help herself. “Now that was funny!”

Scowling, he folded his arms across his chest. “Well, I’m glad you found it humorous. Being frisked like a common criminal certainly isn’t my idea of fun.”

“I’d think you’d be relieved,” she said, feigning wide-eyed innocence. “You told him everything about yourself except your favorite color of underwear and he still didn’t have a clue who you were.”

“No, but the dispatcher recognized my name.”

“Which is all that saved you from taking a ride in the backseat of a patrol car,” she reminded him.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

She didn’t even try to hide her smile. “Uh-huh.”

“Why?”

“Honestly? Because I think you place way too much importance on yourself.”

He lifted a brow. “Oh, really.”

“Yes, really. You need to lighten up. Forget you’re a zillionaire for a while. Kick up your heels and have some fun for a change.”

He snorted. “You don’t have a clue what it’s like to be me.”

“Other than boring, no.”

“Boring?” He pushed to his feet, his jaw clenched in anger. “Let me tell you what it’s like to be me,” he said, bearing down on her. “Money attracts people, including crazies and crooks. And unlike our friendly police officer this morning, most people recognize my name, if not my face, which causes problems for me. Because of my success, I haven’t been able to fly commercially in years. I can’t go to a movie theater or a restaurant, or anywhere for that matter, without drawing attention. If I do venture out to a highly publicized event, I’m forced to take a bodyguard along, just in case some lunatic decides to try to kidnap me for ransom.

“And as for having fun,” he continued, “unless it can be boxed and delivered for me to enjoy in the privacy of my home, I can forget it. Going out in public is a freedom I lost the day I made my first million.”