Texan Undercover (Romantic Suspense) (8 page)

Had Claire come to Texas to get away from
Bennett Hamilton and his family? She'd obviously cut all ties, even
reverted to her maiden name.

Dillon stopped beside the chair where Claire
lay sleeping and looked down at her. She was so damned beautiful.
Dark, thick lashes rested on her white skin. High cheekbones were
dusted with the barest of pink. Diamond and emerald studs twinkled
in her delicate earlobes.

The jewels proclaimed her background and
wealth. The reminder gave Dillon pause. He shook away any
misgivings.

It didn't matter. He would be the one
leaving, not her. He would not allow Claire to get under his skin.
He just wanted to have a good time. No one would get hurt.

He intended to play his cards close. Make
Claire feel comfortable with him. She was determined not to act on
the attraction. But he could tell she was fighting a losing battle.
Just like he had fought. And lost. But he was going to turn it
around and win. There was really no reason he could think of not to
enjoy spending time with Claire. In bed and out. It was temporary.
Perfect.

Dillon squatted on his haunches and touched
her shoulder. "Wake up, Claire."

Those long lashes fluttered, but she remained
asleep. He jiggled her shoulder. Damn, she felt good under his
hand. What would she do if he hauled her out of that chair and into
his arms? He slid his hand down her shoulder and rubbed her arm.
She felt fragile beneath his fingers.

Giving into temptation, Dillon touched
Claire's cheek. Caressed her skin; traced her smooth jaw. She
turned her head into the caress and made a purring sound that
almost made Dillon come unglued. He wanted to sit in that chair
with her on his lap and caress more than her cheek. He wanted to
feel the weight of her on his groin. He wanted inside of her.

"
Sacre bleu!
What is this?"

Dillon jerked his hand away and jumped to his
feet.

Claire woke with a start and sat up straight
in the chair. "Richard? I didn't know you were here," she said,
blinking away the sleep.

"What
are
you doing here?" Dillon
asked.

"Me? I have been working as usual,
naturellement
."

"On Sunday?" Something about the little chef
rubbed Dillon the wrong way.

"But of course. It is often, I work on
Sunday. I make the dough. I organize the week. What is wrong with
this?"

Claire rose and smoothed her ponytail. "You
didn't hear us come in?"

Richard shrugged. "I had the radio on my
ears. I was busy in the kitchen."

"In the kitchen? Making the dough?" Dillon
frowned. Was it his imagination or did the Frenchman seem
uncomfortable? "That is correct." Richard stepped closer, waving
his wooden spoon. "But what, may I ask, are you doing here,
monsieur
? I will not allow you to touch
mademoiselle
,
especially while she is sleeping."

Claire looked at Dillon, a question in the
dark brown depths of her eyes.

Damn, he didn't like to explain himself. He
didn't like the chef's nosy questions, either. "I was trying to
wake you."

"Well, I'm awake now. Are you finished here?"
She blinked again and stretched.

"Yeah. Let's go." Dillon forced his eyes away
from the enticing bit of flesh below the hem of her sweater.

"Not so quickly," Richard said. "You have not
answered my question."

Dillon sighed. "Claire's the boss. I don't
answer to you, Pierre."

"She has no one to protect her," Richard
said. "I will protect her from the likes of you."

"From the likes of me?" Dillon said softly.
He started walking toward the annoying chef.

Claire tugged on his shirt. He glanced over
his shoulder. She shook her head slightly, her eyes dancing with
amusement.

She turned to the chef. "Richard, I
appreciate what you're doing, but I don't need protection. I can
take care of myself."

"Humph. You are too innocent,
mademoiselle
. Too delicate. Too beautiful. You do not
realize what you do to a man." He gripped his spoon and held it to
his heart.

Dillon's patience snapped. Enough with the
high drama. "Look, Pierre--"

The Frenchman stiffened. "My name is not
Pierre."

"Right, whatever. Why don't you go back to
your kitchen and do whatever you were doing. Claire and I are
leaving."

"Where are you taking her?"

"Dinner. I'm taking her to dinner. You make
it sound like I have wicked designs on her or something. And now
you have me talking like you."

Claire chuckled. "You don't have wicked
designs on me?" she whispered.

"That's beside the point," he said under his
breath.

Richard untied his apron. "I am famished. I
will accompany you."

"No you won't. You're not invited. Be sure to
lock the place up when you're finished." Dillon grabbed Claire's
arm and hauled her toward the door, leaving the Frenchman
sputtering curses behind them.

"Where in the world did you find Pierre?" Dillon set his frosted
beer mug on the red-checkered tablecloth. "And why the hell do you
put up with him?"

Claire looked at him over the top of the
menu. "
Richard
applied for the job and turned out to be an
excellent gourmet chef. I know he's temperamental and a bit
dramatic--"

"A bit dramatic?"

"Okay, a lot." She reached for a breadstick.
"Anyway, his pastries melt in your mouth and his éclairs helped
establish my cybercafés. I didn't name them e*Claire's for nothing,
you know."

Dillon smiled. "Cute name. Catchy."

"Thanks." Claire bit into the breadstick.
That devastating smile shot straight down to her toes. How was she
supposed to resist Dillon, when he was pouring on the charm like
this?

She glanced around the restaurant. It was a
nice little Italian place; nothing fancy, but nothing second-rate
about it, either. For late Sunday afternoon, business was brisk.
Several families with small children sat eating dinner, along with
the ever-present college students.

"I didn't know Pierre had a key to the cafe."
Dillon snapped a breadstick in two.

Claire returned her attention to Dillon. She
couldn't fool herself any longer. She wanted to get to know him
better. And she enjoyed the feelings he evoked in her. "Sometimes
he comes in on Sundays, like today. He starts the baking early in
the mornings, too. Real early." She frowned. "Except on the days
he's late."

"Late? Mr. My-kitchen-is-my-kingdom? I don't
believe it."

Claire pointed the breadstick at him. "Did I
mention he's possessive?"

"Not only about his kitchen."

Her blood hummed in response to the low
intimacy in Dillon's voice. "What do you mean?"

"I mean the way he came to your defense this
afternoon. What did he think I was going to do? Rape you?"

"Of course not."

"I think he has the hots for you."

"Don't be absurd. Richard only has one thing
on his mind and that's cooking. But I have to admit, he's been
acting strange the past few months."

"Strange? Like how?"

"When I first hired him, he was always
punctual. But there've been several days when he hasn't shown up at
all. And he's jumpy and nervous all the time."

She caught Dillon's eye. "Don't even think
it. Richard can't be the hacker."

"Can't he?"

"No, absolutely not."

Dillon picked up his menu. "Whatever you say.
How does pizza sound?"

Claire leaned over the table. "It's not
Richard."

"I didn't say it was, did I? Is pizza okay
with you?"

She sat back. "Sure."

"What kind do you like?" He sipped his beer
and watched her over the rim.

"Cheese and mushrooms."

"That's it? Nothing else? You really are a
vegetarian, aren't you?"

"You have a problem with that?" She nibbled
her breadstick.

He shook his head and shuddered. "It's not
natural."

"It's very natural," Claire said. "Much
healthier than meat."

"What's wrong with meat?"

"I've always found it disgusting." She
plopped the last of the breadstick in her mouth.

Before Dillon could answer, the waiter walked
up. "Ready to order, folks?"

"Yeah, we'll have a large pizza--half with
the works," Dillon threw a look of resignation at Claire, "and the
other half with cheese and mushrooms."

The waiter jotted the order down. "Got it.
Help yourself to the salad bar. Your pizza will be out shortly.
Anything else I can get for you?"

Dillon motioned to his mug. "I could use
another beer and bring the lady a glass of merlot."

Claire didn't comment until after the waiter
left. "I didn't say I wanted wine."

"You've got something against wine, too?"

"Yes. No." She bit her lip. "I don't
drink."

"Never?"

Claire shook her head.

"Maybe it's time you did. Have some fun.
Loosen up. Walk on the wild side and have a glass of wine." He
smiled that killer smile again.

"You sound like Natalie."

"She wants you to walk on the wild side?"

"Never mind." She adjusted her napkin on her
lap.

He leaned forward expectantly. "No, I want to
hear this." Claire's tummy tipped over. The table was small, tucked
in a corner of the restaurant. Next to her elbow, a candle
flickered in a red glass holder. Dillon loomed before her. He was
big and made her feel small--feminine to his masculine. And his
aftershave smelled oh so good. She glanced at his mouth and
remembered the kiss. Suddenly, she needed space. Needed to get
away.

"I'm waiting," he said, his eyes locked on
hers.

She shoved back her chair and stood. "Too
bad, because I'm not telling you. I'm going to the salad bar. You
do eat salads, don't you?"

Dillon followed her. "I'm not much into
rabbit food."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" she said over
her shoulder.

"You want surprises?" he whispered in her
ear. "I have several in mind just for you, babe." He handed her a
plate and took one for himself.

Babe
? Sharp tingles of desire flowed
through Claire's body. Dillon stood close behind her. She could
feel the heat of him. So much for wanting to get away. Now all she
wanted was to plaster herself against his hard-muscled frame and
feel his arms wrapped around her. Damn, the man was pure
temptation.

She worked her way down the salad bar,
filling her plate with lettuce, mushrooms, olives and tomatoes.
Every time Dillon reached for something, they touched. He seemed to
deliberately brush against her every chance he got.

Claire realized he wasn't fighting the
attraction anymore. In fact, he was playing the seducer. A thrill
of anticipation blasted through her. She wanted him to seduce her,
yet at the same time, she didn't. Sex without caring wasn't her
style. She never wanted to care for a man again. And she certainly
didn't want to care for Dillon Anderson.

This whole situation was temporary, Claire
reminded herself as she wove her way across the room back to the
table. Dillon didn't trust her. She wondered if he still suspected
her of being the hacker?

The good-looking private eye had turned her
world topsy-turvy. He'd thrust her into a world of espionage, or
something close to it. And he made her dissatisfied with the cozy,
safe life she'd carefully constructed after her divorce.

Temptation. Pure and simple. Could she take a
walk on the wild side? Claire knew she'd have to be careful if she
did. Very, very careful.

****

Dillon walked Claire to her condo and waited
while she unlocked the door. The night air blew crisp and cold. A
direct contrast to the state of his body. Hot, edgy. Aroused.

She turned and faced him. "Thank you for
dinner."

"You're welcome." He took her by the
shoulders. Those coffee-colored eyes widened and she bit her lip.
Lips he hungered to taste again. "I want to kiss you, Claire."

"I thought you had to get back to your
partner," she said, her voice breathless. "I thought you had a job
to do. Urgent, you said; it couldn't wait until tomorrow."

He pulled her closer. "It can wait a couple
more minutes."

"This isn't smart."

"Aw, come on. Live dangerously. You enjoyed
the wine, didn't you?"

"Yes, but this is different."

"One kiss."

"Okay, but--"

He silenced her with his mouth. She resisted
for maybe half a second, then Dillon felt her melt into his embrace
and her arms slide around his waist. He tightened his hold, wanting
to devour her. She tasted better than he remembered. Her lips were
sweet and soft, her tongue wet and hot. His body hardened to rock
solid.

Claire shivered in his arms, pressed her
lower body against him and groaned deep in her throat. Liquid fire.
The woman turned his blood into flames. It might be forty degrees
outside, but Dillon felt sweat drip down his collar. He couldn't
remember the last time he'd been this hot and bothered.

She shivered again. Dillon backed her into
the entry hall of the condo and closed the door. Claire went rigid
and started to pull away.

"Shh, babe. It's just a kiss. One kiss."

"You need to redo the math," she
whispered.

"To hell with the math."

He captured her mouth again and plunged in.
He couldn't let her go yet. He wanted her with a fierceness that
startled him. He knew he should move slowly, but he wanted her
yearning and hungry. Like he yearned and hungered. For her.

Dillon ended the kiss and leaned his forehead
against Claire's. She kept her eyes closed for a moment before
opening them. Her breath came in gasps. He felt the warm wisps on
his chin. He wanted to kiss her again, but thought better of it.
With reluctance, he put her from him.