She shrugged. “Okay, I admit I don’t do too bad.” She smiled and then said, “In fact, a few years ago, at one of the Westmoreland charity balls, I was featured in concert with Madison and Regan.”
Matt knew that Madison Winters Westmoreland was married to Stone Westmoreland, and Regan Fairchild Outlaw was married to Garth Outlaw. He had known Madison was an accomplished pianist since she performed at symphony concerts from time to time, but he hadn’t known about Regan. All he knew was that she was a corporate pilot for Outlaw Freight Lines, a company of which her husband was presently the CEO. And until now, he hadn’t known about Iris’s ability to play the piano.
“Deena began taking piano lessons at ten.”
“She still plays?” Iris asked.
“Not as often as she used to. The piano is still at my home, and she plays it whenever she visits. It’s hers, a gift from her godfather. I figure one day she’ll move it with her. Presently, she has no room in her apartment.”
Iris glanced over at the piano. “I didn’t take that one until after Dad died. I would not have done so before then. It had been his wedding gift to Mom, and I know he had wonderful memories of her sitting there playing it for him.”
“Does your son know how to play?” Matt asked.
“He never wanted to learn how, so I never pushed him to do so.” Not wanting to get any more personal, she looked at her watch and said, “It’s this way to the kitchen, and you can brief me on what I need to know to help you as a client, while I prepare our sandwiches.”
* * *
After washing her hands and taking the items she needed from the refrigerator, Iris glanced over her shoulder to see Matt staring out her kitchen window. She couldn’t recall the last time a man had stood in her kitchen since neither Karlton nor Warren had made it past the living room.
She had a rule that no man would get too comfortable in her house, or spend the night under her roof, whether Garlan was home or not. Neither man had liked it, but she hadn’t cared. It was either their place or a hotel. Since Warren had lived in Philadelphia, he would stay at a hotel whenever he came to visit, and she would spend time with him there. She had explained up front that the only male who would have her at his beck and call was Garlan Michaels Jr.
“Which do you prefer? Mustard, ketchup or mayo on your meatloaf sandwich?” she asked.
He looked at her, and the moment he did so, she felt it. A surge of desire similar to what she’d felt when he had walked off the elevator.
“Mayo is fine.”
“Then mayo it is.” She broke eye contact as she placed the items on the kitchen counter.
Iris glanced back at him and saw he was staring out her window again as if in deep thought. Was he thinking that being her client might not work after all, and being here with her might be a mistake? News flash! She was thinking the same thing.
There had never been a time when she hadn’t been in full control of her senses with a man. However, around Matt, she’d discovered such a thing was hard to do. Even now, his masculine scent was getting to her. As usual, he looked good in his dark suit. To her, there was something about a man who wore a suit well. Even now, standing there at the window without his suit jacket, he still managed to exude a strong, raw, masculine appeal.
Because Garlan had always dressed casually whenever he went to work, she had appreciated their date nights when they would get all fancy to go out on the town, to dinner, a concert or a private party. More than once, she had dressed to the nines to accompany him to the awards shows where a couple of his movies won recognition. Garlan himself had received numerous awards for his performance as a stuntman.
Pushing those memories from her mind, she began making their sandwiches. Opening the jar of mayo, she spread it on the bread.
“You have a nice view from here.”
She glanced over at Matt and didn’t miss the way his gaze roamed over her body. Was he talking about the view outside her window or her? Iris wanted to think hewastalking about the view outside the window, but the way he stared at her made her less sure.
Today, she wore a pair of slacks and a blouse. Since it was a nice day, she had left her blazer at the office. Men often complimented her on how nice she looked in slacks. “A nice view?”
“Yes, a very nice view.”
“And what do you see?” she decided to ask.
“A portion of the park. You don’t see a lot of it, but enough through the trees.”
She honestly never thought of the view outside that window since there were so many palm trees and high shrubs blocking the park. In a way, she had appreciated the buffer since it provided privacy when she was in her pool.
“The sandwiches will be ready in a second. Will iced tea be okay for you?”
“Yes, iced tea will be fine.”
She went to the refrigerator to retrieve the pitcher of tea she had made the previous day. “I meant to ask how that case you were working on is going? The one involving that woman and her deceased husband’s mistress.”
“It’s over.”