Seducing an Heiress (16 page)

She definitely had important things to do on her own. Without him. Her place could always use a good cleaning, Hamlet would need a walk and there was that cooking to do.

Nice, peaceful, normal activities. Just the way she liked her wonderfully independent existence to be.

If she knew what was good for her, she wouldn't push to entangle Trey's life with hers, anyway. That could only lead to heartache and she'd had enough of that to last a lifetime.

*  *  *

Trey headed up the stairs toward Dakota's apartment, a strange contentment riding him. His first day at Chelsea and Lori's and he'd already given them a good start on keeping their company afloat during the naturally lean beginnings of any new business.

He'd always had a knack for stretching a dollar. Saving his first employer a hundred thousand in building materials was what had taken him from blue collar to white in the first place. He'd forgotten what a kick he got out of doing that--like being a detective, accountant, and an artist all rolled into one.

  "I brought dinner," he said, holding out the bucket of fried chicken when Dakota answered the door. 

"In that case, come in." She smiled at him, sending a waterfall of satisfaction through his chest. He hadn't realized how addicting a woman's smile could be until he'd met Dakota.

She opened the door wider and Hamlet bounded past her, jumping on his legs in greeting. "Off," Dakota said firmly and the dog backed away.

Trey ambled into the apartment and set the food down. Turning around, he leaned against the counter while Dakota put the dog in his crate. He admired the curve of her ass as she bent over and the pleasure he felt in her company spiked into lust.

Anticipation flashed to life in her eyes when she saw him watching her and he grew instantly hard. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Pushing away from the counter, he bore down on her. Scooping her up in his arms, he headed for the bedroom, her throaty giggle spiking his need for her to near painful levels. 

Visions of devouring Dakota until she begged him to take her filled his mind as he laid her on the blankets. Covering her mouth with his, he unzipped her pants, only vaguely aware of the quiet affection materializing deep in his heart. 

Then her hand slipped into the waist band of his trousers.

He forgot the passing emotion as his body focused with eager anticipation on the pleasure of making love to a beautiful, giving woman.

*  *  *

Holding the door open, Trey nodded politely to the thirty-something woman as she left Dakota's restaurant lugging a large bag filled with loaves of bread. He'd arrived at Look the Part early and worked through lunch, so when two-thirty came Chelsea had kicked him out. He'd intended to go home and catch up on Jamison Enterprises email, but instead had let his growling stomach lead him across the street. His hope was that he could grab something to eat before Dakota closed for the day.

His decision had nothing to do with wanting to see her.  

The place was still crowded, people's interest still riding high on the flood of gossip that had followed the inspector's rating and Miss Suzette's confrontation with Castella. Several townspeople greeted him as he made his way to the line at the take out counter. He was a little nonplussed by the attention, but Dakota had already warned him that he'd been cast as the hero in most of the accounts circulating and he could expect some notoriety because of it.

Watching her from the concealment of the line, he felt a sense of pride that puzzled him. Her hair stuck straight up like it so often did and her usual flour hand prints covered the hem of her shirt and the backside of her jeans. She had on her ridiculous glasses, her smooth skin was make-up free--in other words she was as far from the glamour of the women he usually sought out as any girl could be. 

But as he watched her interacting with her customers he saw that she genuinely cared about them and about giving the very best quality and service that she could. She took pleasure in her work. Most of the exotic women he'd known didn't work at all.

His heart stirred a little and he swallowed, a kernel of uneasiness growing inside him. He had little more than a week left in this fantasy world Dakota had created for herself. Becoming attached in any way would be the worst mistake of his life.

She spotted him standing in line and her face lit with happiness. Dismay spread through his gut. He'd been so busy keeping a firm grip on reality he hadn't thought about what their intimacy might be doing to Dakota. She seemed so cool and collected, never demanding, never expecting more than the pleasure he was happy to give her. 

Was she starting to have feelings for him? He shifted from foot to foot, his mouth suddenly dry. His alarm deepened. He thought she'd understood how things were between them. Could he have been wrong?

The older man in front of him finished paying and Trey found himself face-to-face with Dakota. He gave her a lazy, neutral smile, falling back on established methods for dealing with delicate situations. Whether clients or past lovers, distant charm had never failed him and it wouldn't fail him now. "I'll take your special," he said politely.

Her brow dipped down in puzzlement. "You okay?"

"Perfect."

She watched him for a moment, her gaze assessing. "Be right back, then."

In a moment she returned with a takeout container and bag. "I put in a cinnamon roll for you. On the house."

"I'll pay for it. I don't mind." He pulled out his wallet.

She leaned toward him and lowered her voice, apparently as aware as he was of the ears and eyes directed their way. "What's going on, Trey?" 

 "If you want this place to succeed, you can't give food away."

Her eyes narrowed. "I don't think slipping a cinnamon roll to my lover is going to break the bank."

The word "lover" sent a fissure of alarm through his gut. The word felt personal. Intimate beyond the quick gratification he sought from his liaisons. The situation had obviously gotten out of hand while he was busy enjoying himself and he needed to set things straight between them before it was too late. 

"It's the principle of the thing," he said handing her a ten dollar bill. "You have to put profit ahead of sentiment. I'm no more special than any of your other customers."

"Not special?" Her expression suddenly cleared. For some reason that made him more nervous than her irritation. 

"My mistake. I won't give you anything special from now on." She took out the roll and placed it on a napkin by the register.

A sense of loss pinched his growling stomach, and inexplicably, lower down. "I didn't say I didn't want it."

"Do you?"

"Well, yeah." He picked up the pastry and put it back in his bag. "Just make sure you charge me for it."

"Don't worry about that," she said. "You might even find yourself paying double."

A chilly breath of uneasiness skated across his neck. "You're taking this the wrong way," he said as gently as he could.

"Please move along, Trey. I have other customers. Profit is everything, remember?"

"Dakota," he said tightly, his frustration growing.

She smiled brightly at him. Too brightly. Uh, oh. His instincts had been right, as usual. She was starting to take their association too seriously.

"Maybe I'll see you later," she said, brittle cheer edging her voice. Her expression darkened. "Or maybe not."

"I'll see you later." He gave her a pointed look and quit the restaurant, a dozen pairs of eyes tracking his progress. 

He wasn't ready to end his time with Dakota, he'd just wanted to do a little damage control. She'd taken it the wrong way, of course, and he wondered if he'd be seeing her at all that night.

The thought of falling asleep without her in his arms filled him with an unexpected twinge of loss. 

This boring little town was making him stupid, that was the only explanation he would accept. He was not starting to care about her. Not him. Never him.

A car horn blasted right next to Trey and he jumped to the side. With a curt wave of apology, he hurried the rest of the way across Center Street and headed for the park. He needed space and movement. Then the restless itch running down his back would ease and he could think straight.

Taking the side path, he headed for a bench that was almost hidden in a cluster of bushes. Affairs with women had always been a pleasant part of his life, as sweet and insubstantial as cotton candy. Why didn't being with Dakota feel that way, too?

Making love to her was definitely pleasurable, hell just thinking about it stirred his lust, but there was more to what was going on between them then that. Having her in his life also made him...content and he feared she was beginning to feel the same way.

He sprawled onto the bench and rubbed the back of his neck. The horrific ramifications of what might be happening to him settled on his shoulders like a cheap suit. He couldn't afford to get involved like this. Neither could she. 

Her life was about to take a new turn, whether she realized it or not. Once she met with Jamison, Trey had no doubt the wily bastard would talk her into coming back. When that happened there'd be no room for him in her life, anymore. Even if he could keep seeing her without losing his job.

Everything was for the best, he reminded himself, ruthlessly squelching the needle of pain pricking his heart. He had his own road to take and a sister to track down. He didn't have time or interest in forming any lasting relationships with anybody.

Leaning against the back of the bench, he tried to relax, even as determination settled over him. It was imperative that he make Dakota understand how important it was to keep their emotions from getting out of control. The sooner the better. 

The thought of having that conversation with her filled him with dread. Pulling in a deep, cleansing breath, Trey looked down at the takeout bag clutched in his fist. There was a lot about this mess that he didn't want to examine too closely, but there was one thing he freely admitted to himself.

When this was over he was going to miss her.

Probably for a long time.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The man was beyond ridiculous. She'd never met someone who thought so highly of himself. She offers him a free cinnamon roll and suddenly it's like she's proposing marriage to him or something!

What woman in her right mind would want to be stuck with a man like Trey Peters? Insufferable, arrogant, unreliable-- Dakota growled in frustration. Why couldn't he just ignore her growing fondness for him? Pretend it didn't exist the way she was trying to do?

But no-o-o-o. He had to come waltzing into her restaurant and make a big deal about it. In front of everyone, no less. When she tracked that man down, he was going to get an earful, like it, or not.

She clomped across the street toward Look the Part feeling like steam should be coming out of her ears. She was so ready to have a temper tantrum over his attitude she didn't care what kind of a fool she made of herself.

Dakota stopped in front of the little blue building, a horrible thought occurring to her. Wait a minute.
Was
she about to make a fool of herself? Or worse, what if she got so worked up she said something she'd regret, like 'I might be falling for you, Trey, what do you think of that?' Yikes.

Her face warmed at the thought. It would probably be a good idea to cool her temper before she confronted him. She could still tell him exactly what she thought of his high-handed pronouncements, but instead of being dismissed as just another hysterical, emotional female--or spilling something she would rather not spill--she might have a shot at getting through to him.

Making a quick shift to the right, she stomped off down the sidewalk toward the park. Nothing like fresh air and exercise to clear the mind.

She'd completed about half of her two-mile route when she saw the dark shape of a man standing by a cluster of bushes up ahead. There was very little crime in Harts Creek. Most people in the town lived modestly enough that they weren't worth the risk or trouble to the criminally minded from the surrounding cities. On top of that, almost everyone knew each other or knew
of
each other, and that kept anyone who might be a little dicey behaving themselves.

Still, she instinctively slowed her pace, warily watching the man ahead. He seemed vaguely familiar to her and goose bumps sprang up across her arms as she drew closer.

The shadowy figure moved away from the wall of foliage and into the middle of the path. He was short and balding with a scruffy growth of beard.

Dakota sucked in her breath from between clenched teeth as terror and despair ravaged her dreams to dust. It couldn't be. Not here.

"Miss Jamison." His full lips drew back into a predatory smile. "Nice glasses." In a quick movement, his hand came out from his pocket and a camera flash blasted in her face. 

She blinked against the spots dancing in front of her, but otherwise held her ground. "Who are you?" she asked, deciding a good bluff was her only hope.

His evil grin deepened. "Maybe this will jog your memory," he said, his Bronx twang laced with sarcasm. He reached behind him and then tossed a silver, spike-heeled sandal at her feet.

The shoe Richard had given her. The one she'd had dragged off her foot when she'd escaped from the paparazzi in Cincinnati.

"What do you want, Aines?" She edged back, wondering if she could make a run for it, though she had no idea what that would buy her. If he'd tracked her to Harts Creek, he probably knew where she lived, too. A shiver of uneasiness chased up her spine. 

"You've got a sweet little set-up here, don't you Miss Jamison? Landed in a nice little town. Daddy's off your case. You got friends. I wonder how that would change if everyone knew who you were. And
where
you were."

Dakota's heart stopped beating and then hurdled forward into double-time, leaving her a bit light headed. "What are you saying?"