Corporate Affair Part 1

STEPHANIE JAMES.

Corporate Affair.

1.

It was the sound of his voice that first caught at her attention, tugged at her awareness. A deep, darkly timbered voice that elicited a curious desire to follow it and discover the man to whom it belonged Kalinda Brady walked hesitantly through the small, empty shop, her gray-eyed glance roving absently over the eclectic collection of watercolors of local scenes from the Colorado Rockies, wood carvings, and some woven wall hangings. The name of the little store was The Mountain Gallery and Kalinda had made three trips to it this morning before finding it open.

It was almost noon now and, not having much else to do in the tiny, Colorado mountain resort town, Kalinda had made one last trip down the short street of rustic boutiques and crafts stores. Sure enough, this time the owner had seen fit to finally open his doors to potential customers.

But while the door stood invitingly open, there was no one inside. A voice called to her, though, as Kalinda tripped the shop bell.

"I'm out in the back! Yell if there's anything you want!"

The masculine voice came through the door on the far side of the small room and Kalinda walked toward it, her curiosity getting the better of her.

She moved across the sunlit floor with an easy, confident stride that said a great deal about her personality. At twenty-nine and with the recent success she'd had at taking over the reins of her father's firm in Denver, Kalinda didn' t normally lack confidence. One couldn't and still retain leadership of a major business. Still, her natural self-honesty forced her to admit that thoughts of what she was going to do this weekend here in the picturesque, lakeside village sapped even her healthy store of a.s.surance.

But her outward demeanor remained unruffled and coolly controlled. The chic, casual cotton tuxedo shirt she wore was open at the neck to reveal a thin strand of gold around her throat The shirt was paired with khaki trousers done with a designer's touch. The sophisticated tailoring revealed a slender, supple body. The high b.r.e.a.s.t.s were small but firm and gently rounded. The feminine hips flared with a fullness Kalinda had always wished was a little less so but which fairly screamed her femininity from within the confines of the narrow-legged trousers. The short, wooden-heeled sandals which arched her well-shaped feet came from Italy.

As she walked the sunlight filtering through the trees and into the window danced briefly on the wealth of brown-blond hair which had been neatly twisted into a knot behind one ear. The strict style revealed a strong, composed face, the features of which were less than beautiful. Instead of flagrant beauty, the intelligent gray eyes, straight, proud nose and readily curving mouth combined into a subtly attractive countenance which drew the attention of the more perceptive.

Kalinda wore both the expensive clothes and the inner a.s.surance with a naturalness that spelled success. She had worked hard for that success and it annoyed her for some reason when others didn't work hard as well. Others such as the owner of The Mountain Gallery who didn't bother to keep regular hours. There was a look of mild disapproval in her eyes as she came to a halt on the threshold of the back door and took in the sight before her.

"I'll be with you in a minute. See anything you like?"

The owner of the heavily shaded voice glanced up from the body of a rainbow trout lying on a wooden bench. There was a stack of such unfortunate fish at the far end of the bench. A hose trickled water over the silvery scales as each awaited its turn under the knife. Kalinda unconsciously curled her lip in disgust.

"You're supposed to compliment me on the nice catch," the shop's owner informed her politely, hazel eyes laughing at her expression. "Not look at me as if I were an ax murderer!"

In spite of herself, Kalinda grinned in response. "Those poor fish Eire, I presume, the reason you're three hours late opening the shop?"

"If I'd known I had such an eager customer waiting I would have hurried," he drawled, the knife in his hand going to work efficiently on the fish in front of him. Kalinda looked away.

Her curious gaze rested on the bent head of the man in front of her, noting the dark fire in the thick, chestnut hair which was carelessly combed and a little long for her taste. The man stood naked from the waist up in the bright sunlight, his lean, smoothly muscled body well-bronzed. When she found her glance lingering on the curling red-brown hair which covered his chest and tapered down to disappear beneath the waistband of a faded pair of snug-fitting jeans, she looked away from that sight, also.

Which brought her gaze back to his profile. She found herself studying it with the same curiosity that had made her want to follow the sound of his voice.

It was an angular face, sharply etched and tanned like the rest of him. The hazel eyes were deep-set and flickered with intelligence when he glanced up and caught her watching him. Tiny lines crinkled the comers beneath heavy brows. An arrogant nose paired well with high cheekbones and a mouth which seemed hard in repose.

But the mouth smiled easily, she saw, and the deep lines at the edges bespoke a wealth of experience. She found herself wondering just what sort of experience, however. There was nothing polished or sophisticated about this man. And he definitely wasn't the sort she had expected to encounter running an art gallery, even if that gallery was in an isolated mountain town which catered to tourists. Her curiosity grew.

He must have been around thirty-seven or thirty-eight, she reflected absently. She sensed a latent male power in him and wondered how he could have been content to waste his life running a part-time gallery and fishing when the urge took him. In her world, given a little business experience, such a man could have built an empire. She knew it instinctively.

Well, hers was not to judge, Kalinda told herself firmly, knowing she was doing it anyway. He was probably a leftover from the antimaterialistic, anti-establishment era of a few years back. A man who lacked the basic drive and compet.i.tive inclination it took to make it to the top.

"I wanted to ask about that watercolor of the lake hanging in the window," she told him politely.

"You like it?" he inquired interestedly, pausing in his work to eye her.

"I know someone who will," she temporized.

"You don't like it," he stated, nodding. He went back to cleaning the trout.

"I'm not buying it for myself."

"What's this friend like? The one you're buying it for?"

"Does it matter?" she asked dryly. "Are you worried the painting won't be going to a good home?"

"I'm not worried about it, but Mary Beth will be," he explained with seeming patience.

"Mary Beth being the artist, I presume?" Kalinda hazarded.

"Umm. She's very particular about who gets her paintings."

"I see. I didn't think artists could afford that sort of luxury. Tell Mary Beth that I'm buying it to give to a kindly, distinguished, older couple who grew up in Colorado and treasure scenes such as that one."

"I guess that sounds safe enough. Okay, you can have it"

"I can't tell you how thrilled I am that you're willing to part with it," she muttered, thinking if she hadn't been stuck in town anyway, she would never have made three trips to the gallery in order to buy the painting.

He laughed, a rich, full-bodied laughter that filled the yard in which he was standing. "Give me a chance to wash the evidence off my hands and I'll come inside and take your money. My name's Rand Alastair, by the way. What's yours?"

Kalinda blinked, surprised at the straightforward question from a stranger she never intended to see again. "Kalinda. Kalinda Brady."

He nodded. "On vacation?" He turned away to wash his hands under the hose, his body moving with a litheness Kalinda found unexpectedly pleasing.

"Not exactly," she replied unthinkingly and then wished she'd held her tongue. The last thing she wanted was a drawn-out discussion of her reasons for being in town!

"Business?" Rand pursued, coming toward her with a rather persistent expression.

"It's a personal matter," she replied, letting her annoyance show.

It didn't seem to phase him. "I see. Are you here by yourself?"

"I don't think that's any of your business," she told him gently, knowing any one of her employees would have immediately backed off after hearing that tone of voice.

To her surprise, Rand had the grace to wince. "Sorry, I still do that once in a while."

"Still do what?" Kalinda looked at him blankly, not understanding the remark. He led her back into the gallery.

"Never mind. Want a cold beer? It's going to get warm this afternoon."

She started to decline but Rand was already opening a small refrigerator against the back wall and rummaging around inside. He straightened with two chilled cans in his hand and popped the tops on both before Kalinda could think of a polite excuse. "Here you go."

She peered down at the can skeptically as it was thrust into her hand, then tried an experimental sip. It wasn't chilled, dry Chenin Blanc, but it wasn't bad on a warm afternoon in the mountains. She took another sip and glanced up to find her host grinning at her.

"Think of it as getting back to basics," he murmured and took a long, satisfying swallow. "Now let's see, I've got that price list around here somewhere...."

Beer in hand, Rand rummaged around in the drawers behind the counter, eventually producing a sc.r.a.p of paper with a triumphant air. "I knew it was here!"

"Congratulations," Kalinda couldn't resist saying a little tartly. What a way to run a business! Any business!

He ignored the comment as if accustomed to the rudeness of visitors and gave her the price of the painting.

It was a bit higher than Kalinda had expected and automatically she glanced around to take another look at the watercolor landscape. As she did a charming pottery bowl caught her eye.

"Oh, I like that!" she exclaimed with genuine enthusiasm, walking across the room to lift the well-molded object It fit nicely in her hands and the earthen colors were perfect for her dining room. "I can see this now filled with a lovely curry and rice dish or maybe a huge green salad."

She raised her head and found Rand watching her intently. "I'll take this, too," she said easily, carrying it back to the counter. "And you needn't worry about it. If s going to a good home."

"Yours?" he smiled.

"Mine," she confirmed, digging out her checkbook.

She hid a small frown as Rand calmly accepted her check without bothering to check her identification and then told herself it was his business. If he chose to take such risks who was she to tell him different?

"I'll wrap those in paper for you before you leave," he announced cheerfully, coming around from behind the counter.

"As a matter of fact," Kalinda said pointedly, "I was just about to go. Perhaps you could put the paper around them now?"

"Finish your beer first. Unless someone's waiting for you?" he added innocently.

"Well, no, but..." Too late she realized she'd just answered his earlier question about whether or not she was in town alone. Half-irritated and half-amused over the small trap, she met his laughing eyes.

"Believe me," he soothed, "there's not much else to do in town once you've been through the shops. Unless, of course, you're into fishing...."

"Not particularly," she sighed.

"I thought not Come on outside and sit under a tree while I finish cleaning the fish. You might as well relax while you finish the beer...."

"Mr. Alastair," Kalinda began firmly, still unable to decide if she should laugh or treat him to one of her more repressive tones. But she was finding his unabashed persistence almost entertaining. And heaven knew she needed a bit of entertainment to take her mind off her own plans!

"Be nice," he pleaded with a beguiling smile that weakened her further. "Everyone likes to show off his catch. And I can tell by looking at you that you're bored and restless."

"Is it that obvious?" she groaned, following him back out into the yard.

"Let's just say you look a little out of your element," he said softly, waving her to a redwood chair under a tree. "But don't fret, I'm relatively harmless. I can produce any number of local references." He picked up a fish and threw her a quick leer.

Kalinda took a long sip of beer and silently lifted one, faintly quelling eyebrow. Rand didn't appear to notice. Instead he chatted amiably, his knife moving expertly on the trout.

Afterward, Kalinda had to admit she wasn't quite sure how it had happened, but she wound up sitting under a tree with a can of beer and watching a man clean fish until nearly one o'clock in the afternoon. No one who knew her back in Denver would have believed it But then no one back in Denver could possibly know how desperately she was trying to kill the rest of this day and the next.

The light, easy conversation proved a tonic for her, succeeding in taking her mind off her inner, churning thoughts and giving her a temporary respite from the case of nerves she was in danger of contracting.

"What do you do in Denver?" Rand demanded casually at one point after giving her a humorous description of the life he led running a gallery in a tourist town.

"I run a company called Brady Data Processing," she admitted mildly, her cool confidence implicit in her voice. It was, after all, something she did very well.

"I've heard of it," he astonished her by admitting calmly. "You're in charge?" There was a speculative gleam in the quick glance he tossed over at her.

"I was elected chief executive officer a couple of years ago after my father was killed in a plane crash. I sort of inherited the reins. The board of directors was used to having a Brady at the helm," she shrugged. "I'm surprised you' ve heard of the company."

"We're not totally isolated up here," he informed her dryly.

"Could have fooled me," Kalinda laughed.

He swung around. "You are bored, aren't you? What are you doing here in our little burg, Kalinda Brady?"

"I think you already asked me that," she retorted blandly, feeling as if he'd almost caught her off guard with the question.

"And you didn't answer. Don't you know you're making me curious?"

"It will liven up your rather placid lifestyle."

He laughed, clearly enjoying the day and her. Kalinda felt herself relax and put her problem temporarily aside. More time slipped past until, conscious of having missed lunch, she finally stood up reluctantly and tossed the beer can into a nearby container.

"Well, thanks for the beer, Rand. I think it's time I was on my way. If you'll wrap the painting and the pottery, I' ll..."

"I'll have them ready this evening," he drawled smoothly as he finished with the fish.

"This evening!"

"When you help me eat the evidence of my murder spree."

"Rand, I don't think..."

"Fresh trout? Grilled corn? How can you resist? And you've already admitted you're bored," he coaxed, hazel eyes fastening on her with determination.

Kalinda mentally ran through all the reasons she couldn't have dinner with him and found it a very short list Why shouldn't she accept? She had a long evening to get through by herself if she refused and that thought wasn't very appealing. Alone with her plans and worries...

He met her eyes and smiled. Kalinda drew in her breath, aware that he'd seen the hesitation in her. Once again it struck her that this man might have been a formidable figure in the business world if he'd chosen that path in life. He knew how to manipulate others. Or was it just that she was willing to be manipulated that afternoon?

"All right," she agreed gently. "Thank you."

"I'll pick you up at six. My home is down by the lake," he said.

It wasn't until she had left the shop to return to her motel that Kalinda wondered which of them was intent on fighting off a boring evening. Could it be that Rand Alastair was a little restless, too? But that didn't make any sense. He had obviously chosen to live in this out-of-the-way town of his own accord. And he clearly enjoyed his fishing. Well, it wasn't her problem. She had her own!

She chose the perfect little summer dress she had brought with her, a wrapped and ruffled silk crepe de chine print It was bare, breezy and, combined with strappy little sandals, even flirty in a sophisticated way. She left her hair in the sleek twist behind her ear and added a gold wire of a bracelet to her bare arm. She wasn't going out of her way to dress for Rand Alastair. Kalinda liked clothes and she dressed to please herself.

She was prepared to find Rand in a clean pair of jeans and a shirt when she opened the door to him a little before six, but the subtle, pin-striped shirt and dark slacks looked expensive and well-tailored. The thick, chestnut hair was combed back in a broad wave and there was a clean, masculine scent of aftershave clinging tantalizingly around him. Still, it was the white Lotus behind him in the parking lot which took Kalinda aback.