"I'm not interested in a relationship," she said. "I don't want to get involved with you or anyone."
"Then why did you let me kiss you?"
"I don't know. I got carried away, I guess. It won't happen again. I don't do the relationship thing."
"Good, I don't want a relationship," Dillon said. "I just want to sleep with you."
"I can't sleep with you. I told you. I don't do relationships and I certainly don't do casual sex."
"Why not? Neither of us wants to get involved, but there's a chemistry between us. It's been there since we first met. We could get it out of our systems. Enjoy ourselves while it lasts."
"I don't think it would work that way." Claire straightened the front of her blouse, tucking it into the waistband of her skirt.
"You don't like me?"
"I didn't say that."
"We're hot together, Claire. You felt it when we kissed." Smooth, Anderson. You weren't going to touch her and now you're practically begging.
"That's not enough for me."
"Or maybe I'm not enough for you?" That old feeling of inadequacy reared its ugly head.
She narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," he said. "I shouldn't have kissed you. I usually walk a wide path around women like you."
Claire crossed her arms over her breasts. "What do you mean women like me?"
Dillon tore his gaze from the enticing curves and focused on her face. Her lovely aristocratic face. What had he been thinking? That was the problem. He hadn't been thinking, but he was now.
"Rich, beautiful women. High maintenance. Like you." He shrugged. "Maybe it's for the best. We're too different. You're from up north, a vegetarian and a neat freak."
Claire lifted her chin. "Unlike yourself, Mr. Meat and Potatoes? I bet you're a slob, too. I don't see any signs of want or need. You own A & B Investigations. You use expensive, high-tech equipment."
He wanted. He needed. But he couldn't let her know that. "I've worked damn hard getting where I am today. I'm well off, but I'm not one of the wealthy. But I know how they live. I know how they act."
"You think you have me all figured out, don't you? How do you know my family is wealthy? And how do you know I'm from up north."
"I'm a private investigator. Figure it out."
"You ran a background check on me?" Her eyes simmered with anger, instead of desire. Dillon told himself it was for the best.
"I have a job to do, Claire. I may not be a neat freak, but I thoroughly prepare for each and every assignment."
She took a deep breath. "Well then, I'm glad this is settled between us."
"You think this is settled?" Nothing would be settled until they were naked in bed. But that wasn't going to happen.
"Isn't it?" Claire raised a brow.
"No."
"I think it is," she said. "You're attracted to me. I'm attracted to you. We've acknowledged it and we're not going to act on it. I think that just about settles it."
"I don't think so. You're going to think about that kiss. I'm going to think about that kiss. We're going to see each other every day at work. We're going to want more."
Claire took another deep breath. "We can't always get what we want, now can we?" She turned and walked out of the storeroom.
Dillon heard the resignation and sadness in her voice. An uncomfortable feeling lurched in his chest. What could a rich, beautiful woman like Claire want, but not have?
CHAPTER FOUR
Claire glanced at the clock on the bedside table and turned over, burrowing under the covers. She could sleep late this morning because she didn't have to go to work today.
Thank goodness, e*Claire's was closed on Sundays. With no classes, most of the kids slept the day away. Claire made up for lost revenue by keeping the cafes open extra late on Fridays and Saturdays, which worked out great.
She needed this Sunday especially to recuperate from the hectic week just past. After a mad dash to Huntsville to avert a disaster, she had checked the other cafes in Nacogdoches and College Station on the way back to Austin. Then she'd worked Natalie's shift last night, so Claire was doubly glad to sleep in this morning.
When she finally tumbled out of bed, she enjoyed a leisurely brunch, read the paper and did some laundry. And tried not to think about Dillon and the kiss they'd shared in the storeroom the other night. She'd tried unsuccessfully not to think about that kiss all week.
Damn the man! He'd kissed her, insulted her, told her he wanted her, then ignored her. Granted, she'd been gone most of the week, but when she returned he'd ignored her.
Maybe he hadn't been thinking about the kiss like she had. Maybe he'd put it from his mind. Claire could have believed that except she'd caught him watching her--his eyes intense, knowing, almost mocking. Himself or her, she wasn't certain.
Where Dillon was concerned, Claire wasn't sure about anything. She didn't want to get involved with him. If she repeated that often enough, maybe her body would cooperate. Because her hormones were screaming to get involved, even while her brain told her going to bed with Dillon wouldn't be the smart thing to do.
Claire put on another load of laundry. She measured the detergent and stuffed the towels in the machine. Knowing Dillon had run a background check on her made her angry. It wasn't fair. She knew nothing about his background. He'd practically told her he didn't like women like her. Had he been hurt in the past? By a beautiful, rich woman?
And did that mean Dillon considered Claire beautiful? That was an intriguing thought. Almost as intriguing as knowing he desired her.
Dillon projected such strength and capability; it was impossible to imagine him vulnerable in any way. But she couldn't forget how he'd looked when he asked her if he wasn't enough. As if he were lacking. Definitely something going on there.
Claire jumped in and took a long hot shower. A cold one would have been better. Thinking about Dillon and that kiss made her hot and edgy. Wanting and needful. It had been a long time since she'd wanted or needed.
Again, she wished she could be more like Natalie and enjoy a man, no strings attached. Could she change? Take that risk? Give in to her hormones?
After her shower, Claire threw on an old football jersey over a ratty pair of sweatpants. She brewed a cup of herbal tea and curled up on the sofa with a book. The tea relaxed her and she was just nodding off when the doorbell chimed. Great. It was mid-afternoon and she wasn't dressed for company. Her wet hair was still wrapped in a towel.
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.
Texan Undercover (Romantic Suspense) Page 5