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