Texan Undercover (Romantic Suspense) (7 page)

Claire peeked through the peephole. Dillon
stood on the other side of the door. He knocked and rang the bell
again. A bubble of pleasure effervesced inside her tummy. She
opened the door.

"Good, you're home." Dillon pushed past her
into her living room. "I need you."

Claire swallowed hard. "You need me?"

He tipped back his Stetson. His eyes raked
over her, taking in her towel and sweats, her bare toes. Something
hot ignited in his gaze. He took a step back. That wasn't
disappointment deep in her gut, was it?

"I need you to let me into the cafe.
Something's up and I have to download files."

Claire closed the door and locked it. She
took a deep breath before turning around again. Then took another
one, grasping the doorknob behind her for support. She had thought
Dillon at work was hard to resist. But Dillon in her home?

Oh my.

"Can't it wait until tomorrow?" she
asked.

"No, it has to be now." He was still staring
at her.

"Why didn't you call? I could have met you
there."

"The way we've been tiptoeing around each
other, I thought it best to come over. I'm driving. Go get
dressed."

"I'll drive myself."

Dillon shook his head. "No you won't, because
I'm taking you to dinner after I'm done."

"Dinner? I don't want to go to dinner with
you. I don't want to get involved, remember?"
Keep saying that,
Claire.

"Dinner is
not
getting involved. I'm
tired of my own company. I'm tired of my partner. I don't know
anyone else in town. I live in Dallas, you know."

"Do you?" Claire asked. "I don't know much
about you. Except you don't date women like me."

"Maybe I'll make an exception in your
case."

She let go of the doorknob and crossed her
arms over her chest, trying to still her thumping heart. "Don't do
me any favors."

He stepped closer, bringing with him his
musky, spicy scent. "Okay, but I'd like you to do me a favor."

Claire bit her lip. Her hormones were
screaming again. "What kind of favor?"

Dillon closed the distance and took hold of
her shoulders. He looked at her mouth, then into her eyes. Oh,
yeah. Her hormones were howling now.

"Go get dressed." He turned her toward the
hallway and gave her a little shove. "Make it quick. I'm in a
hurry."

Claire sighed. Damn the man. He turned her
inside out and made her want things that could only lead to
trouble.

In her bedroom, she jerked the towel from her
head and combed out the tangles. It didn't take long to blow it
dry. She twisted the heavy mass into a ponytail. Her fingers
trembled. Dillon was waiting for her in the other room. She
shrugged out of the jersey and sweats and tried not to think what
it would be like if she invited him to share her bed. Her nipples
tingled and her blood hummed.

Claire threw on a sweater and jeans, stomped
into a pair of boots and dabbed on lip-gloss. A pair of earrings
and she was ready.

Trouble. That's where she was headed if she
didn't keep up her defenses. She couldn't give in to temptation.
Wouldn't give in.

With that resolve, she marched into the
living room and stopped short. Claire swallowed a lump in her
throat. It was all well and good to say she wouldn't give in, but
Dillon spelled trouble with a capital T.

He stood at the window overlooking the Austin
skyline with his back to her. Faded blue denim hugged his butt,
outlining his muscular thighs and long legs. A burgundy Henley
shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. He wore scuffed cowboy
boots and a black Stetson. She gazed back up the length of Dillon's
magnificent body. Thrills and chills raced along her spine. His
power and masculinity was a living breathing thing.

Claire wanted to remove the Stetson and run
her fingers through his dark brown hair. She remembered the silky
feel of it from when they had kissed. She wanted to do it
again.

As if sensing her presence, Dillon turned
around. Desire slammed into her with the force of a Mack truck. She
felt his eyes on her like a caress. Approval and hunger blazed
behind heavy lids. Then he smiled. "That didn't take long."

Claire floated the rest of the way into the
room. His smile fanned the tendrils of heat curling inside her.
"I'm ready when you are," she said, thankful her voice was
steady.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Really?"

Claire swallowed again. "I'm ready to
leave
, if you are."

He nodded. "Let's go then."

She followed him to his truck and started to
walk around to the passenger side, when he caught her arm. "You'll
have to get in on my side. The truck's kind of messy."

Claire waited while he pushed everything
across the bench seat and shoved soda cans and candy wrappers to
the floor. He stepped back. "After you."

"Good grief, you
are
a slob." She
climbed in and had to straddle the gearshift. "Don't you believe in
garbage bags?"

"Nope." He settled in beside her.

Claire scooted as far away as possible, but
there was no place to scoot. Messy was too kind a word to describe
the truck. Computer equipment, wrinkled clothes and fast-food bags
occupied the passenger seat. Peanut shells littered the floor. She
sat plastered against Dillon. Her whole left side burned from the
contact.

"Maybe I should follow you to the cafe in my
car." She fumbled with the seat belt, brushed his hip with her
knuckles and snatched her hand away.

"We've already been through that. Relax,
Claire. Nothing's going to happen." He looked at her and started
the truck, revved the engine and reached for the gearshift.
"Unless, of course, you want it to."

"I don't want it to," she said. Her whole
body went rigid with awareness. When he shifted gears, Dillon's
hand rested on her thigh. He kept it there. Claire glanced at him.
"Do you want it to?"

"Yes. No. Hell, I don't know. I keep thinking
about that kiss, damn it."

"Well, quit thinking about it."

"Haven't you thought about it, Claire?" His
deep voice flowed over her like melted chocolate.

She clasped her hands in her lap. Had she
thought about anything else since Monday night? "Not much," she
said.

He threw her a knowing look. "Right. You
don't lie very well." He turned his attention to the road, but kept
his hand on her leg. He rubbed his thumb gently on the inside of
her thigh. Tiny shards of pleasure zipped along her nerve endings.
"Confess. You've been thinking about it."

"Maybe a little. So what? We decided not to
act on it. We're not going to act on it." She tried to move her
leg, but it was impossible. She was trapped between the man and a
computer monitor.

"I've been thinking about what you said."
Dillon shifted gears at the light. She couldn't take her eyes off
his hand between her legs.

"What I said?" Her throat felt dry.

"That you're not interested in a
relationship. Don't really want to get involved."

"And what exactly have you come up with,
Sherlock?" She had to get a grip here. She could not let him see
how he was affecting her.

He grinned. "Good one. You made a joke."

"I do that on occasion," Claire said. "I
thought I wasn't your type. Sounds like you've changed your tune.
Why is that?"

"I want your body."

The bottom of her stomach plunged down to her
toes. The man had a way with words. Right to the point,
no-holds-barred.

A grip, Claire. Find that grip.

"Really?" she said. "I wouldn't have guessed
that in a million years."

"How long has it been since you've had
sex?"

"I beg your pardon? I don't think that's any
of your business."

"It's been a while for me, too," Dillon said,
ignoring her response. "Neither of us wants a relationship. I won't
be in Austin that long. It's the perfect setup." He down shifted at
a light; his hand was between her legs again.

"Perfect for you. Not perfect for me." Claire
grabbed his wrist and lifted it off her thigh. "I suggest you keep
your hands to yourself and your mind on the job."

"Just think about it," Dillon said. "We'd be
good together."

"I don't want to think about it."

"Fine, then don't."

He pulled to a stop outside e*Claire's. "Hand
me the keys. This won't take long. You can wait here."

"I'm coming with you."

"What's wrong? Don't you trust me?"

"No." She didn't trust him; she didn't trust
herself.

Dillon opened the truck door. "The feeling is
mutual. Come on then."

Claire started to climb out. "You don't trust
me, but you want to go to bed with me?" The words tumbled out
before she thought. Her purse tangled with the gearshift and she
lost her balance. Dillon caught her in his arms before she fell to
the pavement.

"Thanks," she said, her voice breathless.
From her near fall, not from his nearness. When had she started
lying to herself?

He held her close, staring at her mouth. "I
don't have to trust you to want to sleep with you, Claire."

"Well, I do." She pushed out of his embrace
and searched her purse for keys. "I think trust is important."

"I don't trust anyone. In my line of work,
it's not possible."

Claire jabbed the key in the lock. A brisk
February wind whipped around them. She shivered and was glad to
enter the warm interior of the cafe.

"You never told me what was so important that
you had to drag me here on a Sunday afternoon." She punched in the
security code and flipped on the lights.

Dillon made a beeline to the computers and
booted them up. "Roger Nash called this morning. Someone breached
his firewall again. Planted a nasty worm in his database. I need to
download files so my partner and I can go over them tonight."

"I'll be glad when you catch this guy,"
Claire said. "I'm going to make myself a cappuccino. Want
something?"

"Coffee. Black." He didn't even glance her
way, his mind was already on the job.

Walking to the back of the cafe, Claire told
herself she was glad Dillon's attention wasn't directed at her
anymore. Behind the counter, she grabbed two cups. She didn't feel
neglected in the least. Pouring the coffee, she looked at Dillon
seated at the computer. Yeah, right.

After setting Dillon's drink on the table
where he worked, Claire retreated to the other side of the cafe and
curled up in one of the overstuffed chairs. From her vantage point,
she watched Dillon. He was a puzzle. He didn't trust easily. Only
because of his job, or was it personal? She never could resist
puzzles. She wanted to find out what made him tick. She could
protest all she wanted, but she could feel her defenses crumbling.
Not only because of the mind-numbing attraction, but also because
of the vulnerability she sensed in Dillon.

Claire finished her cappuccino and nestled
deeper into the plush cushions. She would just close her eyes a
moment. One moment turned into two, then three. The busy week
caught up with her and she drifted off to sleep.

****

Dillon switched off the computers and stood.
Downloading the files had taken longer than he'd anticipated. He
rubbed the back of his neck, stretched and wondered where Claire
was. He hadn't seen her since she'd brought him his drink.

He gathered the disks and tossed his coffee
cup in the trash. Heading toward Claire's office, he looked across
the cafe and saw her. Asleep. Something shifted inside him.

Gone was the businesswoman he was accustomed
to seeing. At work, Claire always dressed neatly--elegant and
professional. Every hair in place, make-up just so. She still
looked neat, but with her hair in a ponytail and her face free from
make-up, she looked impossibly young. Her skin was creamy and
smooth. Her lips full and inviting. He wanted to taste her
again.

Earlier, when she'd opened the door at her
condo, a bomb had detonated low in his stomach. He had never seen
Claire rumpled and casual. Fresh from a shower, a damp towel on her
head with tendrils of hair escaping and framing her face. No
make-up, bare feet, her toes painted a sexy red. He'd wanted to
kiss every one of them.

The ragged football jersey had teased his
imagination. What was underneath? A lacy bra or no bra at all? He'd
hustled her out of the room, before he'd grabbed her and jerked up
the shirt to find out. He longed to caress her, feel her breasts in
his hands and his mouth. Since Monday night, that's all he could
think about. Kissing Claire. Touching Claire.

Yeah, he'd changed his tune all right. He
wanted Claire and intended to have her.

Dillon started across the cafe toward the
lounge area. He wanted to wake Claire with his kisses. See her
brown eyes shine with desire for him. Damn, he was getting hard
just thinking about it.

The more Dillon saw of Claire, the more his
first impression changed. She was good with her employees and she
was good with her customers, too. No holding herself aloof or
staying locked in her office all the time. Claire mingled with the
students and other customers, offering help when needed. It hadn't
taken long to figure out she wasn't a snooty high society
bitch.

And that made her fair game.

Dillon still didn't trust Claire and he
wasn't looking for a relationship. He just wanted to sleep with
her. Like he'd said, he was in Austin temporarily. It was the
perfect setup. They could explore the attraction, enjoy each other.
And
he'd
be the one doing the leaving, not her.

Surprisingly, Brozek's advice about asking
the lady out held merit. So, Dillon had asked Claire to dinner.
Okay, maybe coerced was a better word. The lady in question was
wary around him. Didn't trust him, either. He'd have to work on
that.

In Claire's background check, he found out
she'd been married and divorced. Dillon had run a check on the
ex-husband. The Hamiltons of Boston were rich, elite and powerful.
Claire must have been burned by the bastard. That was probably the
reason behind her wariness.