Chapter 4
Dean slouched in his desk chair, head back, eyes closed, fingers speared through his hair as a headache throbbed behind his eyes. Two voices streamed from the speaker on his desk phone behind him, fighting for the upper hand in the discussion escalating into an argument.
“Good, God, enough,” he growled. Silence fell, and he sat up while spinning his chair around to face the desk once more. He lowered his arms and palmed his cell phone as he barked out, “Quinn, you keep an eye on Ty. Monitor his computer, his email, his phone calls, just, obviously, don’t let him know you’re doing it. Mike, I want you to get ready for the release as if everything is on schedule. I don’t want anyone to even suspect there could be a problem, got it?”
His private investigator confirmed he’d keep watch on the employee Dean suspected of leaking previous software ideas to Jack, and his VP replied, “Got it. What about a press release or something for Tech Industry News Briefs?”
Dean had been thumbing through his texts as he talked, and stopped when he saw one from Liz. After tossing a frown toward the closed door of his home office, he skimmed his assistant’s message.
I’m leaving now. Your dinner is on a plate in the fridge and some interior decorator is waiting at your front door.
She’d sent the text at five after six. It was now six-thirty-eight. “Sonofabitch,” he muttered under his breath.
“Now what?” Mike asked as Dean shoved to his feet.
“Nothing.” His vice president’s other question repeated in his head. “Hold off on a press release just yet. Listen, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”
He reached to disconnect the regular phone without waiting for a reply. He’d forgotten to tell Liz about his six p.m. appointment, but his jaw clenched in irritation that she hadn’t stuck her head in to let him know Gina Allen had arrived. Why the hell had she sent a text when she knew how distracted he got while working?
Stepping out of his study, he guessed that the decorator would most likely have left by now. Lord knows he wouldn’t have hung around had someone been so rude to him. On the bright side, it would get him off the hook about hiring her. But as he passed through the kitchen into the great room, he grimaced at the thought of his mother’s annoyance.
A glance out the foyer windows spotted a car parked out front and brought his bare feet to a halt.
She waited?
She must be really desperate.
He turned from the door and spotted a briefcase on the floor by the wall. The fasteners were undone, and the open wedge between the top and bottom invited him to look inside. Further surveillance of the room revealed no one to go with the case. Resisting the urge to check out the contents, he hooked his thumbs in his front pockets and ambled down the hallway to the guest rooms.
None of them contained the missing interior decorator. Obviously, the woman was scoping out his place on her own. Probably so she could figure out how much to milk him for.
Back in the great room, his gaze landed on the unfastened briefcase again. There was that whole thing about turnabout and fair play, but after the last two women he’d dated, he didn’t even need that much justification to hunker down on his heels to lift the top. Besides, a quick flip through her portfolio would help him figure out in advance if she was worth putting off for a few months, or if it was best to nip everything in the bud tonight.
As he let the lid rest against the wall, a handful of business cards slipped from a pocket and fanned across the manila folders inside. He scooped them up and tidied them into a neat stack in his hand. The top one read: Gina Allen, GAllen Designs.
Extending his free hand, he used one finger to move aside the top file folders in search of something that might contain pictures of her previous work. Nothing looked promising until he spotted the electronic tablet tucked into a pocket on the lid. Ah, well, if the samples were on there, he’d have to wait for her after all.
Before closing the case to continue his search for Ms. Allen, he thumbed through the business cards to see if he recognized any of her previous clients. The first two didn’t ring any bells, but the name on the third card stopped him cold. In the next second, angry heat seared through his body.
Technology Software. Jackson Brady.
What was her connection to his thieving ex-business partner from college? He supposed she could have done some decorating work for Jack and this was a mere coincidence, but with everything going on lately, suspicion had him conduct a more thorough search of the contents of the briefcase while he had the chance.
One of the folders held financial statements, and the ending balance confirmed his mother was right about the woman’s money issues. The other two had names that sounded like church organizations or something. He moved on, but didn’t find Jack’s name anywhere else. For now, he’d have to bide his time until he could verify the connection—if there was one.
He closed the briefcase and rose to his feet. Time to locate Ms. Allen.
Glancing between the stairs leading to the loft and the ones leading down, he decided to head up first. When he reached the top step, he glanced right, then left, and spun back to the right when he noticed his bedroom door ajar.
He silently stalked across the carpet, but paused just outside the room when he caught sight of a woman at the windows, standing with her back to him. Her slim body was silhouetted against the glass, and she was bathed in the fiery colors of the orange and red sunset.
Her height reached maybe five-six or five-seven, but what really drew his attention was her dress. It was a form-fitting, ankle-length black number with long sleeves and an open back that provided a generous view of the graceful line of her spine. His pulse twinged.
Very sexy.
She turned in his direction, her face downcast, shiny auburn hair blocking her profile. He flicked his gaze down to the notebook that held her complete attention. Her fingers gripped a pencil as her right hand flew over the paper in quick sketching motions. The laser focus she exhibited was something he found very familiar.
The hand with the pencil lifted to tuck the hair behind her ear, and his gaze followed the movement. With his first glimpse of her face, his breath hitched even as his pulse took off at triple speed.
What the hell?
Cinderella from the club.
An initial rush of excitement was doused by a succession of thoughts that exploded his earlier suspicion even as he scanned the front of her plunging neckline.
She had Jack’s business card in her briefcase.
She’d been at the club at the same time as Brady.
When she’d walked up and kissed him, his ex-partner had taken the opportunity to disappear.
Sure, the thief had been crawling all over some blond, and their tables hadn’t even been near each other, but that didn’t mean Jack hadn’t paid the woman in front of him to provide a distraction.
Like now. Her dress reached to the floor, but the slits on either side rose well above mid-thigh. They revealed shapely legs and a high pair of spike heels guaranteed to hot-wire the libido of any red-blooded male. God help him, he could still remember the feel of that lithe body when she’d kissed him into oblivion before dashing off into the night.
Under normal circumstances, he never would’ve connected her with Jack. But with the business card in her briefcase and the events of last night, her motives for wandering around his house and snooping in his bedroom took on a more ominous nature.
Was she a back-up in case Ty couldn’t get the information Brady wanted, or was she a complete replacement?
And how far was she willing to go to get it?
The answer seemed a bit obvious, considering she was standing a mere ten feet from his bed in a dress designed to make a man think of sex. Even with his suspicions about her intentions, the desire she’d awakened with last night’s kiss surged to life.
If she was scheming with Brady, it didn’t bode well for her. Hell, it wouldn’t bode well for either one once Dean finished with them.<
br />
Didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy himself in the process. He stepped forward with a grim smile.
Chapter 5
Movement in the corner of her eye jerked Gina’s gaze up from the notebook in her hands. Oh, God. Her fingers clenched on the tablet as the guy from Club 9 strode into the room. She was never supposed to see him again. Never.
Her heart raced so fast she lost the ability to breathe.
In the next instant, he pulled her into his arms and smothered her shocked gasp with his warm, firm lips. The pad of paper in her hands tumbled to the ground as he drew her closer and slipped his tongue inside her mouth to stroke against hers. Confusion, alarm, and extreme physical awareness swirled in a maelstrom of paralyzing emotion.
Sensations began to register, burning along her nerve endings, bringing her entire body alive as he continued the sensual onslaught.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a very smart voice said, Stop.
She brought her hands up to push against his shoulders, only her fingers took an extra moment to appreciate the muscled strength beneath the material of his T-shirt.
A low moan reached her ears. It could’ve been hers, because at some point she’d begun kissing him back. Next thing she knew, he’d backed her the few remaining steps to the bed. The edge of the mattress hit the back of her knees as he lowered her without once breaking contact with her lips.
Alarm bells rang in her head as his weight pressed her down. She stiffened when his hand skimmed down along the slit in her dress and grasped behind her knee to pull her leg up alongside his hip. His large, warm palm slid down, caressing the bare skin of her exposed thigh.
She opened her eyes to put a stop to the madness at the same time he lifted his head. Brown eyes smiled down at her, pupils dilated enough to make them appear almost black.
“After last night, we should probably introduce ourselves before this goes any further. I’m Dean.”
His hand rested under her skirt, his fingertips mere inches away from her black satin underwear. Mortification swept every other emotion aside, and she dragged her hands down from his shoulders to push against his chest.
“Get off. Let me up.”
Confusion entered his expression, and when he didn’t immediately move, panic escalated. She was alone with this man, pinned beneath him, on his bed!
Gina reached down and shoved his hand away from her leg. “I said, let me go.”
His gaze narrowed. “You’ve picked a fine time to play hard to get.”
“I’m not playing. Let me up before I scream.” If she could get enough air into her tight lungs. “You’ll have a heck of a time explaining this to your girlfriend.”
“My what?” He rolled off her and pushed to his feet.
She scrambled for the opposite side until they faced off with the bed between them. When his gaze dropped below her chin, she quickly looked down and adjusted the neckline of her dress so the material still covered everything it needed to.
“Your girlfriend,” she repeated as they both raised their gazes. “The redhead downstairs.”
“Liz is my assistant, not my girlfriend. And she went home, oh, about forty-five minutes ago.”
Meaning she was completely alone with him. She cast a swift glance toward the door to see if she could make a run for it. Not likely. He was closer, his legs were longer, and she wore heels, damn it.
“How about you explain to me exactly what’s going on here.”
The rough demand brought her attention back to him. He glared at her with his arms crossed over his chest, and she immediately went on defense. If anyone had the right to be upset here, it was her.
“What’s going on is that I showed up on time for the appointment you requested, only to be kept waiting and then mauled in your bedroom.”
His eyebrows slammed together in a dark frown. “I did not maul you.”
“Well I certainly didn’t ask to be attacked on your bed.”
Disbelief filled his expression. He uncrossed his arms to jab a finger at her. “You kissed me back. In fact, you started it all with that kiss last night! What the hell else am I supposed to think when I find you in my bedroom dressed like that?”
She lifted her chin as he gestured up and down the length of her still tingling body. Okay, so ‘attacked’ wasn’t a fair accusation, but she was desperate to save face. “It’s an evening dress, not lingerie, you jerk. I had plans for tonight and the time you specified gave me no time to change. I was doing my own walk-through and taking notes to avoid being even later than I already am. If you’d bothered to be on time yourself, you’d have found me downstairs.”
Mentioning the walk-through reminded her she’d dropped her notebook. It lay on the floor, two feet behind him, but she made no move forward to retrieve it.
“You could have left,” he pointed out. “No one made you stay, so why exactly are you here?”
“For the decorating job—”
He snorted. “Riiight.”
“My name is Gina Allen of GAllen Designs,” she stated firmly. “A woman by the name of Vanessa called me this morning to set up an appointment for precisely six o’clock.”
“What was last night about?”
She avoided his eyes as heat flooded her face. “Last night was a stupid mistake.”
“Why, did Jack not compensate you for your troubles?”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“Jackson Brady.”
Her gaze snapped to his as a chill slid down her spine. “What does he have to do with any of this?”
He jerked his chin toward her. “You tell me.”
“I have no idea.”
“But you don’t deny you know the sonofabitch?”
“He’s my ex-boyfriend.”
She watched Dean Daley digest that information as suspicion began to gather steam. Had Jackson set up this whole little scenario as payback? Get her hopes up with a promising job only to have it ripped right out from under her? Sounded about right, but for the life of her, she had no clue how he could’ve managed to pull it off.
“How do you know Jackson?” she asked.
“Doesn’t really matter. I will say, it strikes me as awfully convenient you being at the club last night and showing up here tonight.”
“Your person called me.”
“Yeah.” His head tilted slightly to the side. “How’d you manage that, by the way?”
“I don’t know,” she snapped as her annoyance rose. “How’d you hear about me?”
He didn’t reply. Something was going on in his mind though. She could practically see the gears turning in his head. Which made the answer click for her. Jackson must’ve talked to this guy after she’d left. Somehow he’d gotten him to set up the appointment so they could screw her over.
The no-good, cheating asshole. Dean Daley wasn’t much better.
“Forget it, I just figured it out. You and Jackson deserve each other.” She shook her head in disgust and headed for the door.
“Funny, I could say the same for you.”
“You don’t even know me.” It was hard to control the urge to run as he followed her from the bedroom and down the stairs.
“I know enough.”
He sounded all smug about it, and it took her until she reached her briefcase to decide if she wanted to hear anything more he had to say. Curiosity got the better of her as she locked the fasteners and stood. “Like what?”
“I know you need the money.”
Her fingers tightened around the handle of her briefcase while she fought a wave of embarrassment that he knew she was flat-assed broke. “You snooped through my stuff.”
“You snooped through my house.”
She opened her mouth to retort, but snapped it shut again. Without another word, she brushed past him to yank open the front door.
“Too bad you didn’t find anything Jack will be willing to pay for.”
She spun back to face him as he stood with his hands shove
d in the front pockets of his jeans like this was just some casual conversation instead of a criminal accusation. “That’s the second time you said something like that. What the hell would he pay me for?”
“Weaseling your way in here.” His gaze swept downward with a deliberate smirk, and he leaned forward as if to tell her a secret. “If you’d have been nicer upstairs, I might’ve let you take a peek in my office.”
Genuine confusion overrode the urge to smack his handsome face. “And why would I want to do that?”
He shrugged. “To get a look at my computer.”
She frowned and cast her gaze past him to take in the great room. Was he a software developer like her ex? Is that how he knew Jackson?
As she shifted her attention back to his face, more puzzle pieces fell into place. Realization flowed through her and left a horrible tingle in its wake. “You think I arranged last night and tonight so I could gain access to something you’re designing in order to give that information to Jackson.”
Those magical lips of his curved in a smile that didn’t even come close to reaching his eyes. The effect gave her a chill that had nothing to do with the cool air rushing in through the open door.
“For someone who had no clue, you hit the bulls-eye dead center.”
She swallowed hard at a sudden, unexpected flood of hurt that accompanied his confirmation. Frickin’ Jackson. Her gaze wavered from Dean’s as she blinked against the burning sensation in her eyes.
With a shake of her head, she walked out without another word.
Chapter 6
Unease coiled through Dean’s gut as he watched her leave. He could’ve sworn her surprise was legitimate when he mentioned Jack’s name, and yet she didn’t say a word to deny or defend herself against his accusation.
He probably shouldn’t have said anything.
His disquiet intensified as he flipped the lock on the front door and retreated to the kitchen for the dinner plate Liz had left in the refrigerator for him. As the shrimp linguine heated in the microwave, he leaned back against the counter and relived those moments in his bedroom.
Trust by Design (Colorado Trust Series--2) Page 3