Texan Undercover (Romantic Suspense) (2 page)

"
I
provide tech support, thank you
very much."

"By yourself?" Dillon asked. "With café
scattered all over east Texas? You're expanding, aren't you? You'll
need help."

"My cafes are within a couple hundred miles
of each other. There are four total. I travel between them, as
needed."

"Ms. Maxwell, we would appreciate your
cooperation in this," Nash said.

"Why can't you pose as a customer?" she asked
Dillon. "You can hang around, keep your eyes open."

"That's not enough. I need to be able to
access information from all the computers. If I'm an employee, it
won't arouse suspicion."

"I can't have just anyone working on my
computers. What are your qualifications?" Claire demanded.

"Is this an interview?"

She raised her chin. "You might say
that."

"Ms. Maxwell!" Nash said. "Mr. Anderson is
the nation's top investigator of cybercrime. He's eminently
qualified. Will you cooperate or won't you?"

Claire held up a hand. "I intend to cooperate
fully. Give me a minute here. I'm trying to figure out how to do
this without raising questions, since I've always said I'd never
hire tech support."

"How about just saying you've changed your
mind? You're expanding? You're tired of all the travel?" Dillon
offered the suggestions and waited, trying not to notice her curves
under the stylish business suit.

She nodded briskly. "I guess that will have
to do. I'm opening two new e*Claire's--one in Dallas, one in
Houston. Hiring tech support was inevitable. How long do you think
the investigation will last?"

"Can't know for sure," Dillon said. "This
isn't some kid doing mischief. This guy is serious."

"How serious? Is he dangerous?"

Dillon shrugged a shoulder. "Can't know that
for sure either."

Claire stared at him. " I see. When do you
want to start?"

"As soon as possible."

"Come by tomorrow," she said. "No, that
would
look suspicious. I'll start advertising tomorrow. Come
see me next Monday. We'll fill out the paperwork."

She rose from her chair. Everyone stood.

"Thank you for the lovely dinner," she said.
"I hope Mr. Anderson succeeds and catches your hacker." She turned
to leave.

"Ms. Maxwell?" Dillon reached out, snagged
her elbow and felt that heat again.

"Yes?" Her eyes held awareness and what?
Caution? Distress? His fingers curled around her arm before he
remembered to let go.

"No one can be told," he said. "The less
people in the know, the better chance of success."

She forced a smile, then winked. "My lips are
sealed." The woman was dangerous all right. "Trust me, Mr.
Anderson." Claire nodded to the men and headed for the door.

Dillon watched her leave.
Trust her?
Not a chance.

****

On the following Monday morning, Claire
arrived at the cafe earlier than usual. After booting up the
systems, dusting around a little and starting the coffee, she
retired to her office and waited. And fidgeted. Ever since she woke
up, she'd been antsy. She had about half an hour before Natalie and
Richard came in. Then another thirty minutes before the cafe opened
for business.

Claire thumbed through Saturday's receipts.
It had been a good day. But then, every day was a good day at
e*Claire's. She still couldn't believe how fast the cybercafé had
caught on. Especially with the university crowd. She had been lucky
to snare a prime location on the drag across the street from the
University of Texas. Natalie Fuller, her best friend from college,
had jumped at the chance to manage the cafe for Claire. The food
was select, the lattes and frappes were to die for and the
atmosphere was conducive to study and friendly conversation. It
didn't take long before e*Claire's was
the
place to be.

Two years after opening the doors in Austin,
Claire had expanded to other university towns: Bryan-College
Station, Nacogdoches and Huntsville. All the cafes were doing
great. Business was booming.

Was it about to go bust? Someone was using
e*Claire's for criminal activities. Her little cybercafés were
supposed to be havens from the outside world. A place for people to
gather, drink coffee, eat a sandwich, check their email, chat with
friends--online and off. A home away from home for students and
faculty. And foreign travelers. E*Claire's was very popular with
foreigners.

Claire straightened the stack of receipts.
How long would it take to catch the hacker? Would the investigation
interfere with the anniversary celebration planned for next
month?

She opened a drawer, grabbed a rubber band
and twisted it around the receipts. What would happen when an
arrest was made? Would it be bad for business? Could the cafe
weather the media blitz?

And how was she going to weather the close
proximity of Mr. Dillon Anderson, day in and day out? Her body
still tingled when she thought about dinner the other night.
Shaking hands with the man had been a sensual experience. Sitting
next to him at the table had made her hormones stand up and take
notice. Claire's blood hummed with anticipation, knowing she'd see
him today.

Thank goodness she travelled a lot,
supervising the other cafes. She wouldn't have to see him every
day. But she was in and out of this cafe most often. She lived here
in Austin; she'd still see him. Too often.

And Claire didn't need some good-looking
private eye underfoot and snooping around. Making her want things
she couldn't have and didn't even believe in anymore.

"Hey, what are you doing here so early?
Something going on I should know about?" Natalie sank down in the
chair across from Claire's desk and sipped an espresso.

"I have someone coming in to interview for
the tech support position." Claire hated not taking Natalie into
her confidence. It seemed sneaky and underhanded.

"Boy, that was fast. You just started
advertising what? Last Thursday?"

Claire turned to her computer and opened her
email. "I got a call over the weekend. I thought I'd hire a person
to help out here, then make the rounds to the other cafes."

"Sounds like a plan." Natalie stood. "Gotta
get to work and get ready for the breakfast crowd." She stopped at
the door. "Richard called. He's going to be late."

"Again?" Claire looked up from the computer.
"What is it this time?"

Natalie shrugged. "Same old, same old."

"This has been going on for months. We may
have to let him go, Nat."

"Give him a little more time," she said. "You
know he's a genius in the kitchen. His croissants melt in your
mouth."

Claire sighed. "That doesn't matter if he's
not here to bake them."

"Well, we can't let him go before the big
anniversary bash. I'll talk to him. Gotta run."

Claire turned back to the computer.
Sometimes, owning a business could be a real headache. But it was
well worth the occasional migraine. She was proud of what she had
accomplished.

A couple of hours later, Claire thought a
headache would be welcome compared to the wildfire raging through
her body. A fire she seemed to have no control over.

"Good morning, Ms. Maxwell." The deep sexy
voice slid over Claire warm and smooth like a cup of Swiss
mocha.

Her office shrunk the minute Dillon Anderson
walked in and closed the door. All six-foot-something filled the
room with virile masculinity. Claire's nerve-endings went rampant.
Her skin felt tight, her clothes restrictive. Not even her
ex-husband had affected her like this, and she had loved him.
Thought
she loved him. She didn't believe in love
anymore.

Now lust . . . That was totally different and
that's what she was feeling right now. Like she had never felt
before. And certainly never acted upon. Rarely acted upon. She was
human, after all.

"May I sit down?" He removed his black
Stetson and set it on top of the file cabinet.

It took a moment before Claire found her
voice. "Of course. Certainly. Sit. Please."

Was it suddenly hot in here? It felt hot.
Dillon Anderson was hot.
Good lord, was he hot
. She wanted
to fan herself. At the restaurant, she had been hyper-aware of him
sitting next to her. His big body radiated heat that seared her
down to her toes. She hadn't been able to get a good look at him,
only the distinct impression that the man was gorgeous. Now with
him sitting across the desk from her, she soaked in the
details.

The black sweater with the sleeves pushed-up
to the elbows revealed muscular arms sprinkled with dark hair.
Black stonewashed denim molded powerful thighs. The strong jaw line
sported a shadow of beard, even though it was only midmorning. His
mouth was hard and sculpted. And his eyes were greenish-brown,
almond shaped and intense. He stared at her as she gave him the
once over.
Oh my
.

"Is this a bad time?" he asked. "We agreed I
was to come here today."

Claire cleared her throat. "No, you're right.
I've been expecting you." She struggled for control, trying to rein
in her hormones. She never would have believed she could react this
way to a strange man. His spicy aftershave turned her insides to
mush. She wanted to inhale, then inhale some more. "I have the
paperwork filled out," she said, scooting a neatly typed sheet of
paper across the desk. "All I need is some ID and your
signature."

Dillon reached in his pocket and pulled out
his wallet. He handed over his driver's license, then skimmed the
paper.

Claire stared at the plastic card in her
hand. "This says your name is Dillon Andrews."

He looked up from the paper, leaned forward
and motioned for her to do the same. His gaze locked on her.
Mesmerized her. She leaned closer. Golden rings surrounded the
irises of his hazel-colored eyes.

"Ms. Maxwell," he said, his soft tone just
this side of a whisper, "I'm working under an assumed name. The ID
is fake. This is an undercover investigation. You need to remember
that at all times. Got it?"

He carefully enunciated each word, almost in
exaggeration, like he was explaining something to an inept child.
Claire felt her hackles rise. His eyes held her frozen. He wasn't
looking at her like she was a child.

She swallowed hard and nodded. "Got it."

Dillon sat back. "Excellent. I want to nail
this guy. I don't want you tripping me up."

"No, of course not."

"Good." He resumed reading the application.
"You've told your employees why you're hiring me? Something
believable?"

"Oh yes. Natalie's a little surprised we had
such a quick response, but I told her you contacted me over the
weekend."

He set the paper on the desk and signed his
name at the bottom. "What time do you close tonight?"

"Midnight, why?"

"I need to wire the machines."

"Wire the machines?"

"The computers. I'll explain later. Make sure
everyone leaves soon after closing. You can either give me a key
now or let me in yourself."

"I'll let you in. Say, twelve-thirty?"

He nodded. "Is there a back entrance?"

"Yes. Shall we synchronize our watches?"

Dillon frowned at her. "I don't think you're
taking this seriously, Ms. Maxwell."

"I'm sorry. But suddenly I feel like I'm in
the middle of
Mission Impossible
. I expect to hear the theme
music any minute now."

When the corner of Dillon's mouth lifted
slightly, Claire nearly fell out of her seat. She hadn't seen him
so much as crack a smile since she'd met him.

"I'm a private investigator, not a spy," he
said. "I need your help and cooperation."

"Of course," Claire said. "It's just that all
of this seems unreal. I guess I'm trying to keep it upbeat or else
I'll be scared to death."

"There's no reason to be afraid. I don't
think this guy is dangerous as in physically dangerous. But it's
always a possibility."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Also remember the need for complete secrecy
and try to act normal. Think you can handle that?" He rose and
extended his hand. Claire stared at it for a moment. His fingers
were long with neatly trimmed nails. It was a strong hand, like the
man towering over her. She quickly stood.

"Can I have my license back?" he asked,
snapping his fingers.

Claire thrust the ID at him, speedily
relinquishing her hold on the card.

Raising an eyebrow, Dillon stuffed the
license in his wallet. "I'll see you tonight. It won't take long to
wire the machines. I'll start work day after tomorrow."

He was gone on the words, leaving Claire
unsettled, jittery and flustered. She collapsed in her chair,
leaned back and closed her eyes. She'd been plunged into the middle
of an impossible mission. Impossible to resist the very handsome,
very sexy Dillon Anderson. No, it was Andrews. Dillon Andrews.

Claire sat up. She needed to keep everything
straight. Not give anything away. Why couldn't she get that theme
song out of her head?

Natalie ran in the office. "My God, Claire!
Don't tell me that good-looking hunk of testosterone applied for
the tech position? And don't you dare tell me you didn't hire
him?"

Claire smiled. "I did, but not for his good
looks. He's a computer whiz. I hope I can fill the other position
as easily."

"You won't find anyone as hunky. What's his
name? Is he married? Does he have a significant other?"

"We didn't get into his personal life and his
name is Dillon Andrews." Claire couldn't believe she was lying to
her best friend. The theme song inside her head revved up a
notch.

Natalie leaned over the desk and grabbed the
application. "He's single. Thank goodness. Life suddenly looks a
lot more interesting. Especially around here. When does he
start?"