"The letter, Ms. Maxwell?" His green eyes held amusement, like he was used to women staring at him.
Claire blinked. "This way." She led him to her office. Stan Brozek was good-looking in a rugged sort of way. But Claire felt none of the bone-melting heat she'd experienced the first time she'd seen Dillon. And every time since. She hoped this didn't mean she'd be comparing all men to Dillon from now on. If so, she was in bigger trouble than she'd thought.
In her office, Claire pointed to the letter. Brozek moved past her and leaned down to read the note.
"This is good," he said. "Very good. Could be the break we've been waiting for."
"I'm glad you're so pleased. How concerned should I be about the 'repercussions'?"
"On a scale of one to ten? I'd say eight or nine. I'll hang around the cafe today. Be close by, if that'll make you feel better?"
"Yes, thank you." She wanted to ask him to call Dillon. She'd feel even better if he were here.
"No problem. Just part of the job." Brozek didn't look up. Using a pair of tweezers, he carefully plucked the letter from the desk and placed it in a large plastic bag. The envelope followed and he sealed the bag. "I'll send this to the lab right away. I'll also have to dust the computers for prints."
She glanced at the clock on the wall. "When are you going to do that? My manager and kitchen staff will be here any minute. How are we going to explain your presence?"
He smiled. "You're really getting into the hang of this undercover business, aren't you?"
"No, I hate it. I hate all of it. I want you to catch this guy as soon as possible. I don't want him using my cafe. And I certainly don't want him to hurt me or any of my employees or customers."
"I don't think he will."
"Did you think he would send a letter like this?"
Brozek hesitated. "No."
"I'm sure Dillon didn't either," she said. "How will you get finger prints from the computers? A lot of people use them."
"All I need to dust are the keystroke recorders. There's no reason for anyone to touch them except our hacker. You close up shop early tonight. I'll get the prints then. It won't take long."
"Are you going to call Dillon?" Claire couldn't help asking.
"Immediately. I need to take care of a few things this morning, but I'll be back in a couple of hours. Don't worry."
Claire nodded. "Yeah, right."
For the rest of the day, every little thing made Claire jump. Not since her divorce had she felt so nervous or vulnerable. Hadn't she learned anything in the last five years? She thought she could take care of herself, that she didn't need anyone's help. Had she been living in a fantasy world?
Her marriage to Bennett Hamilton had lasted only twelve months--a long tortuous nightmare. He hadn't hurt her physically. No, he'd hurt her deeper. He'd hurt her soul.
Insanely jealous, Bennett smothered her, cut her off from family and friends. He constantly accused her of infidelity. No matter what she did or what she said, Claire could never make him believe in her love for him. Slowly, painfully, that love died.
Claire had sworn then and there, she would never love again. Never need anyone. She picked up the pieces of her life, accepted Natalie's invitation to Austin and tried not to look back. Carefully, she built a new life. Everything had been going great.
Until now.
The computer hacker had destroyed her illusion of control over her life. And so had Dillon Anderson.
****
"But I don't see why we have to close up early? You've been acting strange all day. Are you sure you're okay?" Natalie frowned at Claire.
"I'm fine. I want to prepare for the systems upgrade. It won't hurt to close a couple of hours early." Claire climbed on the barstool at the counter and ordered a latte. The smell of roasted coffee beans permeated the air. The quiet noise of the customers blended in with the hum of the computers. Claire hated to think the peace and tranquility inside e*Claire's could be shattered any minute. Damn the hacker.
"I thought you were going to let Mr. Macho help with the upgrade," Natalie said. "Can't you wait 'til he gets back?"
"I've made up my mind, Nat. I want to do this tonight. It's just preliminary preparation anyway."
"All right. All right. I still can't believe Mr. Macho stood you up for the banquet tomorrow night."
"Would you please stop calling him that? His name is Dillon."
Natalie looked at her strangely. "What's got your panties in a twist? Wait, I bet I know. Mr. Macho. You miss him don't you?"
"I don't want to talk about him."
"Okay, let's talk about someone else. Like that guy over there?"
Claire looked up from her drink and scanned the room. "What guy?"
"The dark hunk over on table six. He's been here all day. Looks like he's casing the joint. I think I'll go have a word with him."
"No, wait!" Claire grabbed Natalie's sleeve.
Her friend really looked at her strangely now. "What is it, Claire? Something's going on. I know it."
"Nothing. Nothing's going on." She dropped her hand and wiped her sweaty palm on her slacks. "I'll go talk to him."
"You? Why?"
"Like you said. He's a hunk."
"Right. You've never noticed the hunks before. And what about Mr. Macho?"
"Stop calling him that," Claire said between clenched teeth. "Besides, he's not here." She tried to look sophisticated and worldly.
Natalie snorted. "Go on then," she said with a smile. "This I've got to see."
Claire made her way toward Stan Brozek. This undercover business was tough. Dillon was right. If she wasn't careful, she was going to blow the whole thing.
Brozek watched her approach. He motioned to the chair beside him. "What's up?"
"My friend's getting suspicious." She sank into the chair and set her latte on the table.
Brozek glanced at Natalie sitting at the counter. "Is she now. Interesting."
"Yes. You've been here all day. Most of our customers are in and out. They come and they go. Stay a couple of hours, then leave. She thinks you're casing the place."
His dark eyebrows lifted and arched. "She does, does she?"
"It's not funny. She's asking all kinds of questions."
"And why would she do that?"
"I've been a little edgy today." Claire sipped her drink. "Have you talked to Dillon?" She really wished he would call. She needed to hear his voice.
"Yeah. He'll be back tomorrow. Probably late."
Claire's spirit drooped. She searched for her missing backbone, so she could stuff it in the empty hole near her heart.
"Look," Brozek said, "I'll leave now and wait in the van, then return around ten-thirty. Maybe that'll take care of your friend's curiosity. Just relax and act normal. Everything's going to work out." He pushed back from the table, grabbed his leather jacket and walked away.
Claire let out a long breath. She'd feel better when Dillon returned. Safer. She wanted to feel his arms around her, holding her close. She wanted him to kiss away her fears. All of them. Not only the physical ones, but the emotional ones, too. Damn. Where was that backbone when you needed it?
The door closed behind Brozek, only to open immediately. Frank entered the cafe, glanced around the room and made a beeline to Natalie, still seated at the counter.
Claire joined them. Frank looked a little worse for wear. His jacket was rumpled and his hair uncombed.
"What did you do, Frank? Fall asleep over your dissertation again?" Claire asked.
"Yes, I just woke up. I need coffee. Strong, please."
Natalie ordered for him and brushed wrinkles from his shoulders and straightened the sleeves of his jacket. "You need to take better care of yourself, Frank."
He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm aware of that. As soon as I complete my paper and attend to a few other details, my situation will improve immensely."
Natalie handed him his cup of coffee. "Here you go, sweetie."
Frank too
k a drink and sighed. "No coffee compares to the coffee at e*Claire's. Let's sit at a table. I need to do some revisions." He started across the cafe.
Natalie hopped down from her stool and followed. Claire did, too.
"You won't be able to work long," Nat said. "We're closing early tonight."
"Really? Why?" He set his briefcase on the table.
"I need to prepare for the upgrade of the systems," Claire said.
"I see. Do you require assistance?" he asked. "I've noticed your new tech has been absent for the last few days. I'm somewhat knowledgeable with computers."
Natalie smiled. "That's so sweet of you. Isn't that sweet of him?" she asked Claire.
"Yes, sweet." But Claire thought it strange. An uncomfortable feeling started niggling at her brain.
"I would be happy to help," Frank assured her.
"Thanks, but I prefer to do this alone." She looked at her watch. "Thirty minutes, Nat. Make the announcement. I want everyone out by ten. Then I'll close up. You can go home. Or out with Frank."
"Sounds like a winner to me." Natalie turned to Frank, who was already tapping away on the keyboard. "Want to come over to my place and work on your paper?"
"Certainly." He pushed his glasses higher on his nose, took another drink of coffee and continued pounding the keyboard.
Claire walked to her office. Something wasn't right, but she couldn't put her finger on it. With Dillon out of town, the anonymous letter this morning and Brozek's presence--things seemed out of kilter.
She wasn't thinking clearly. Frank's offer to help shouldn't make her jump to conclusions. But that's just what it had done. She didn't like it.
And where was Dillon? She needed him, in more ways than one. Claire didn't like that either.
****
Dillon cursed the rain that made the trip back to Austin a slow laborious process. Traffic snaked along the highway. Sheets of water crashed over the windshield. He'd left Dallas at two thirty in the afternoon. The three-hour drive turned into a five-hour ordeal.
Ever since Brozek called yesterday morning, Dillon had been straining at the bit to get back to Austin and to Claire.
He banged the steering wheel with the palms of his hands. He couldn't believe the hacker had contacted her. Threatened her. He wanted to strangle the bastard.
Catching the hacker was his job. His business. But now it had become personal. Threatening Claire, the woman he . . . wanted--not loved, he couldn't love Claire, wouldn't love Claire--the woman he wanted . . . that made it damn personal. If anything happened to her . . . nothing was going to happen. He wouldn't let it.
A little after eight, Dillon pulled into his parking slot at the apartment he shared with his partner. A quick call to Brozek at the cafe reassured him nothing more had happened today. With Claire relatively safe at the Chamber of Commerce Banquet, Dillon told Brozek to meet him here as soon as possible. He wanted to be brought up to date.
And then, he wanted to see Claire. He needed to see her. He didn't question the need to check on her. To make sure she was okay. It was something he had to do.
Dillon was sitting on the sofa staring at a blank TV screen when Brozek waltzed in and tossed a paper bag at him. "Here. I brought you a present."
Dillon opened the bag and dumped the contents on his lap. "A box of condoms?" He looked at his partner.
"Don't say I never gave you anything."
"Your sentiment is touching," Dillon said.
Brozek grinned as he shrugged out of his jacket. "I've been hanging out with your lady friend for the past two days. She is one pretty woman. If you don't want to use those, then hand them back and I'll make a move on her myself."
Dillon stuffed the box back in the bag. "Do that and you're a dead man."
Brozek whistled under his breath. "Huh-oh. Sounds serious, man."
"Back off, Brozek."
His partner lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay. I'll back off. I need a beer. Want one?"
"No, I'm drinking Dr. Pepper."
Brozek came back into the living room. "How'd it go in Dallas?"
"Everything is taken care of. I left it in Madelyn's capable hands. She's tying up the loose ends."
"Thank God for Maddie. We should give her a raise. Admins like her are hard to find."
"Be sure to make a note of that," Dillon said.
"Will do." Brozek set up his laptop on the coffee table.
"When will the results of the fingerprints come back from the lab?" Dillon tossed back the rest of his soda. The fingerprints might be the key to solving the case. He hated that Claire had been threatened, but the letter was a stroke of good luck.
"Should know something tomorrow," Brozek said. "I lifted the chef's prints from the kitchen and sent them in, too."
"Good. I don't think he's our man, but we need to make sure." Dillon stared at the Dr. Pepper can. "You didn't find anything in the keystroke files from Claire's computer?"
Brozek shook his head. "Just some hits on various Internet sites."
"What kind of sites?"
"Recipes. Cooking techniques. Things like that."
"So why was he using Claire's computer?" Dillon said.
"Maybe his computer really 'cracked'?"
Dillon grinned. "Pierre's a laugh a minute. And a mystery. What can he be doing that's such a big secret?"
"No telling," Brozek said. "So now we're back to waiting. The next move belongs to the hacker."
"We're ready for him now. He's due for an attack soon." Dillon crushed the soda can, wishing he could crush the hacker just as easily. "I'm going to take a shower."
Brozek waved him away, keeping his eyes on the laptop.
Dillon entered his bedroom, gathered clean clothes and headed to the bathroom where he stripped. Adjusting the faucets over the tub, he stepped in the shower and let the hot water stream over him.
He focused on relaxing his tense muscles. Muscles that had been in knots for over twenty-four hours. Last night, he had tossed and turned thinking about Claire. Not his usual tossing and turning and not his usual thoughts about her, either. He'd wanted to call her, but didn't.
All his protective instincts had surfaced knowing Claire might be in danger. His frustration came from not being able to go to her immediately. He wanted to hold her in his arms. Reassure himself she was all right.
The strong spray of water washed away some of the tension and the last of the soapsuds. Dillon turned the water off and got out. He toweled himself dry and as he dressed, he decided on his next course of action.
After packing a few things in a duffle, he walked back to the living room.
Brozek looked up from the laptop. "Going somewhere?"
"Over to Claire's." Dillon stuffed his own laptop in the duffle.
Brozek reached for the brown bag on the coffee table and thrust them at him. "Don't forget these."
Dillon snagged the bag. "You take way too much interest in my love life, you know that?"
"Hey, what are friends for?"
"Shut up, Brozek."
"My lips are sealed, buddy."
Dillon dropped the bag of condoms in his duffle, zipped it up and shrugged on his coat.
Brozek raised an eyebrow at the duffle bag. "Planning on a long stay?"
Dillon ignored his partner's knowing grin. He grabbed the duffle and his Stetson, then opened the door. "Yeah, I'm moving in with Claire until the investigation is over."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Claire cut the engine of her BMW and sat for a minute in the garage attached to her condo. The rain had stopped while she'd attended the banquet. On the passenger seat lay the gold plaque given to her by the Chamber of Commerce. For the third year in a row, e*Claire's had been awarded Best Small Business in Austin. Claire felt honored and proud. She vowed to continue making e*Claire's better and better.
Climbing out of the car, Claire shivered in the chilly night air. As she unlocked the door, she wondered if Dillon's partner had discovered anythi
ng about the hacker. Brozek had taken a lot of fingerprints from all over the cafe and even the kitchen area. Soon, they would find out if Richard was involved. Claire knew in her heart it couldn't be her chef, but then again, she could be wrong. Never in a million years would she have imagined her cafe being embroiled in the middle of a computer crime.
Last night while Brozek had worked, Claire kept him company. He was a connection to Dillon. She needed that connection; the hacker's note had scared her. Brozek was Dillon's friend as well as a business partner. He'd told her about Dillon's past and how his mother had abandoned him. It explained a lot.
In the kitchen, Claire flipped on the light and set the plaque and her purse on the table. She wiggled out of her high-heels and carried them to the living room, curling her toes on the plush carpet. Ready to slip out of her designer suit and into something more comfortable, she unfastened the top two buttons of her silk blouse. Reaching for the lamp near the sofa, her hand froze and her breath stopped. She dropped the shoes.
Someone was standing near the window in the living room. A dark hulk of a man. A scream rose in her throat.
"Claire! It's me." Dillon lunged toward her and took her by the shoulders. "It's me, babe."
"Why didn't you say something? You scared me half to death." Her heart drummed in her ears. "What are you doing here?"
"I needed to see you. Check on you. Make sure you were all right."
"I'm fine. How did you get in?" She didn't move, just stood there wishing Dillon would wrap his arms more tightly around her. He smelled good--comforting and exciting at the same time.
"I picked the lock. One of my many hidden talents." Dillon switched on the lamp, then pulled her close.
"I wouldn't call breaking and entering a hidden talent. And how many do you have anyway?" Her voice sounded muffled against his broad chest.
"Not that many. But it's only called breaking and entering if you don't want me here." He tipped her chin and looked deeply into her eyes. "You do want me here, don't you, Claire?"
Unable to speak, she nodded. The soft entreaty in his deep voice settled heavily in her tummy. For some absurd reason, tears rushed to the surface.
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