Texan Undercover (Romantic Suspense)

by

Anne Marie Novark

***

SMASHWORDS EDITION

***

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***

Sparks fly and computers crash when Claire
Maxwell's cybercafe is used for nefarious purposes. She's thrown
into the midst of an undercover operation and doesn't like it one
bit. She really doesn't like being thrown in the company of the hot
private eye handling the case. Claire doesn't believe in love or
happily ever after anymore. Can the handsome P.I. change her
mind?

Dillon Anderson needs Claire's help to stop a
dangerous corporate hacker. What he doesn't need is the sucker
punch of desire whenever she's near. Dillon has always avoided
women like Claire, but avoiding this particular woman proves to be
an impossible mission. Can he get the job done without getting done
in himself?

***

Texan Undercover

Copyright 2011 by Anne Marie Novark

All rights reserved. This book or any portion
thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the author or publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or
reviews. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

***

This is a work of fiction. Names, places,
businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the
author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any
resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or
locales is purely coincidental.

***

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to
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of this author.

***

To Keith.

Thanks for the technical support

and know-how.

***

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter
Three

Chapter
Four

Chapter
Five

Chapter Six

Chapter
Seven

Chapter
Eight

Chapter
Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter
Eleven

Chapter
Twelve

***

Austin, Texas 1998

Damn, he didn't need this.

The woman was a complication in what should
have been a cut and dried case. He didn't need her exquisite
beauty, her obvious wealth, her upper-class elegance . . . and he
sure as hell didn't need the sexual awareness zinging through his
body. He didn't need the distraction. Didn't need
her
. He
just needed to do his job.

Dillon Anderson watched Claire Maxwell make
her way across the restaurant's private dining room toward his
table. She stopped and greeted the three men who'd hired him for
the investigation, shaking their hands each in turn. Her soft voice
and musical laughter touched something deep and primitive inside
him. He squashed those feelings and tried to regain control of his
renegade libido.

The woman packed a powerful punch, he had to
give her that. Dillon didn't like how she affected him, but that
didn't stop him from admiring the lady's slim build and nice
curves.

According to the background check, she was
thirty-two years old and divorced. Her photo hadn't done her
justice and certainly hadn't prepared Dillon for the reality of the
woman. The rich brown hair, glistening with golden highlights,
cascaded down and brushed the tops of her shoulders. Dark brows and
thick lashes framed chocolate-colored eyes. The smooth creamy skin
of her cheeks and neck made Dillon wonder about the rest of her
body. Would her breasts and stomach be creamy and smooth, too?

She hadn't even looked his way and already
Dillon had her undressed in his mind. This overwhelming sensual
feeling had to stop. He couldn't afford to give in to it. Hell, he
knew better than to mix business with pleasure.

Control, Anderson. Where's your control?

When Claire stood before him and held out her
hand, Dillon didn't hesitate. A good firm handshake, a quick
release. He ignored the startled look in her eyes when they flew to
his. Just as he ignored the zap of electricity arcing between
them.

The waiter offered her a chair next to
Dillon's. She took it with a murmur of thanks. A hint of expensive
perfume drifted over him, lingered in the air.

Subtle. Sexy.
Damn
.

After she sat down, the men resumed their
seats. Roger Nash, CEO of Lomar Industries, the man who'd
contracted Dillon's agency, broke the ice. "Glad you could join us,
Ms. Maxwell."

"You didn't give me much choice, did you?"
she said with a polite smile.

Nash chuckled.

The woman straightened the silverware beside
her plate. Her long tapered nails matched the dark crimson of her
lips. Dillon tossed back half his Scotch.

"Would you care for a drink, my dear?" Nash
motioned to the waiter.

"Water with lemon, please." Claire placed her
napkin on her lap and accidently brushed Dillon with her elbow.
"I'm sorry." She pressed those red-tipped fingers to his forearm
for a brief second. The contact scorched him through the sleeve of
his jacket. It didn't help when she jerked her hand away. The burn
still remained.

"No problem," he said.
Yeah, right
.
Liar
. He tossed back the rest of his Scotch and ordered
another. He looked around the table. The men were staring at Claire
Maxwell. He'd stare too if she wasn't sitting so damn close. He
wondered how the hell this assignment was going to work.

Claire folded her hands on the edge of the
table. "Well, gentlemen. Don't keep me in suspense. Why have I been
summoned here?"

Gunther Kirschman, owner of K & G
Research, smiled. "
Now
we know why you've been so successful
with your business and why e*Claire's is so popular.
Straightforward, no-nonsense. Those qualities will take you far,
young lady."

"They already have." Claire raised her glass
in a mock toast. The men laughed and acknowledged the hit. Dillon
didn't feel like laughing. The woman was a lethal combination of
beauty and confidence.

Dangerous.

Claire set the crystal water glass on the
linen tablecloth. "Seriously. I'm dying of curiosity. Why the
secrecy? What's this all about?"

The waiter returned with two trays of
appetizers.

"Let's eat first," said Paul Tolman of Tolman
Technologies. "Then we'll have our discussion when there's less
likelihood for interruptions."

Claire nodded and studied the menu. The woman
might appear cool and collected on the outside, but Dillon sensed
the tension emanating from her body. She wasn't going to like it
when they explained the situation to her.

He didn't like the situation either. This
routine undercover job was proving to be anything but routine. The
woman sitting beside him complicated everything. But hey,
complication was the name of the game in his line of work.

Everyone ordered dinner. While they waited,
conversation turned to small talk. Dillon didn't contribute much;
he wasn't good with chitchat. He sipped his drink and listened,
trying to ignore the woman on his left and her teasing sexual
pull.

When the waiter brought the food, Dillon
sighed in relief. He focused on the steak he'd ordered. It wasn't
often he could enjoy a leisurely dinner. Especially in a five-star
restaurant in downtown Austin overlooking the Capitol Building.
Most of his meals came in greasy paper sacks, eaten on the run.

"Could you please pass the pepper?"

The woman's soft voice slid over him like
fine brandy going down. Dillon caught another whiff of perfume. He
reached for the salt and pepper mill and set them down with a snap
near her plate. No way was he going to chance touching her fingers
again. He didn't appreciate the way his body was reacting to Claire
Maxwell. He didn't appreciate it, at all.

She slanted a glance from the salt and pepper
mill to him. A smile played on her lips. "Thank you."

He nodded and tore his gaze away. Staring at
his plate, Dillon took a bite of steak. For crying out loud, she
wasn't even his type. Just look what she'd ordered. Something with
pasta and salad. No meat. She was probably a vegetarian.

All through dinner, conversation flowed
across the table like champagne at a banquet. Dillon never felt
comfortable in social situations like this. He interjected a few
one-liners, but for the most part kept his attention on his food
and just listened. Claire's New England accent should have grated
on his eardrums. Instead, her low cultured voice wrapped around
him. Made him edgy.
Damn
.

She seemed content to converse where her
table companions led. After that initial admission to curiosity,
Claire hadn't mentioned it again. Dillon admired her control. He
didn't want to admire anything about her.

Finally, the waiter cleared the table, served
after-dinner drinks and left them in peace.

Claire wiped the corners of her mouth with
her napkin and laid it beside her cup. Leaning her elbows on the
table, she rested her chin on her folded hands. "I think you owe me
that explanation now."

"It must seem strange that we've asked to
meet with you when our businesses," Nash indicated the other two
men, "are so different from yours."

"This doesn't have anything to do with the
Chamber of Commerce contacting me last week, does it?"

"No, nothing like that," Nash said. "The work
we do involves extensive research and the development of new
technologies. Genetic engineering, nanotechnology and robotics to
be exact. They are the wave of the future. Some people are afraid
of that future."

"They want to stop progress," Kirschman piped
in. "They fear it will get out of control, harm humanity and won't
be used responsibly."

"Aren't those fears and concerns legitimate?"
Claire took a sip of her coffee.

"Absolutely," Tolman said. "But without
progress and scientific breakthroughs, we'd still be in the Stone
Age. Progress cannot and should not be held back."

"So what does all of this have to do with
me?"

"Someone's sabotaging our companies," Nash
said. "Mr. Anderson here owns A & B Investigations based in
Dallas. His agency has been working for the past six months to find
the culprit."

Claire turned toward Dillon and eyed him with
interest.
Show time.

He pushed back his chair. "The firewalls in
the computer networks of these gentlemen's companies have been
breached. Earlier in the year, a hacker exploited Lomar's buffer
overflow. They had to rebuild the server. Mr. Kirschman's company
experienced a deliberate teardrop attack several months ago. It
flooded their email exchange and shut down their system.

"Tolman's computers were infected with a
virus last month. I've had operatives working inside tracking the
source of these attacks. The hacker is good. He's been careful not
to leave a trail. He doesn't work from his own computer." Dillon
paused to see what effect the information had on Claire Maxwell.
Her brown eyes widened with understanding. Intelligence as well as
beauty and confidence.
Double Damn
.

"So you're implying that he's working out of
e*Claire's?" she asked. "You're saying one of my customers is
committing a crime?"

"Afraid so," Dillon said. "My guys traced the
IP addresses to the computers in your cybercafé near the
university."

"Why didn't you contact the FBI? Don't they
usually handle things like this?" Claire asked Nash.

"We don't want the Feds involved yet. Too
much red tape. Mr. Anderson's agency specializes in Internet crime.
He's excellent at what he does."

Claire turned to Dillon. "So, what are you
going to do now?"

"Go undercover and work at e*Claire's."

"Excuse me? You want me to hire you? In what
capacity? I'm a small business operator. All positions are
filled."

Dillon frowned. "These gentlemen are footing
the bill. You'll pretend to hire me. For tech support."