“Brielle, do you have any tweezers?” he asked, rising to his feet.
The sound of her name on his lips startled her, and sent delicious shivers over her entire body. Stupid body. She didn’t have time to lecture her libido on the perils of responding to Jack-In-The-Closet.
“I think so,” she replied and quickly procured a pair from the bathroom. “Here.”
“Thanks.” He walked to the dresser, and using the tweezers and his pen, carefully unfolded the yellow paper.
GO HOME!
The two words in big red letters filled the note.
“This isn’t good.” He dropped the pen and tweezers to scrub a hand over his eyes.
Okay, the guy appeared genuinely upset. Maybe, hopefully, he didn’t do it. Which was good, because she did do it with him, and it would really be great if he wasn’t a freak. God, never again will I ever have a one night stand.
Turning, he pinned her with a determined glare. “You’re leaving. Now.”
“What?” She blinked. Several times. “No. I’m not going anywhere.”
Or wasting precious time thinking about their past encounter. It was high time she put the case first. Concentrated on the threat and the culprit. Not Jack.
“Don’t you get it?” He advanced toward her, backing her into a wall. Again. “Whoever’s been threatening Matthew obviously wants you off the show.”
“Too bad.” She shrugged, not at all worried, and just a bit peeved at herself. “And you should be happy.”
His gaze narrowed into a deep frown. “Happy? Why?”
“I’m obviously making someone angry, and you know what happens to people when they get angry, don’t you?”
Begrudging admiration filled his eyes. “They make mistakes.”
“Exactly.” She nodded with a smile. “And if we play our cards right, we’ll catch the offender in no time.
“We?” He shook his head and grasped her shoulders. “Oh, hell no. There is no we, Ms. Bennett. This isn’t a game.”
“Yes—we,” she corrected, lifting her chin. Heat seared her skin from under his grasp, but she applauded herself for resisting the urge to press closer. “As I see it, I have two choices, Mr. Anderson. I can either cower and leave the show, or stand my ground. I’m much better at standing.”
His gaze darkened to a smoky blue before dropping to her mouth. Ah, heaven help her. Not that again. Her heart did an impromptu fire drill—stopped, dropped, then rolled.
All thoughts of the show, threats and suspects clouded as her body responded to Jack’s nearness. That pressing-closer urge grew stronger. Much stronger. She only had to lean forward and they’d be heart-to-heart, body-to-body.
Good parts to good parts.
A second later, his palms hit the wall on either side of her head. He did the pressing. His hot, hard, solid body pushed her into the wall and warm breath washed over her as he let out a curse while lowering his face towards hers…
“Jack! Jack, what room are you in?” A deep voice penetrated her fuzzy head.
With lightening speed, the sexy former Ranger jumped back and shook his head as if that would clear it.
Good luck, buddy, she thought, drawing in a breath, trying to remove her own cobwebs. Damn, that was close. Too close. Disappointment, mixed with guilt, calmed her libido. She turned and headed for the bathroom without glancing at the tempting man just as help arrived.
The walking wall was first through the door. And according to Uncle Franco, her escort from last night was also a former Ranger. She’d hazard a guess Jack’s whole team consisted of former Rangers.
Needing a moment to recover before facing said team and her uncle’s men—who had orders to pretend she was a stranger—Brielle closed the door and splashed water on her heated cheeks. Cold water. Very cold water.
“You’re an idiot,” she mumbled into the towel. But it wasn’t her fault. That man was hot enough to melt steel.
What kind of brother am I?
Jack stepped aside to allow his men and Franco’s to process the room. A bad brother, he told himself as he strode to the window, jaw cracking from clenching so tight. White caps curling on the Pacific Ocean, gleaming in the distance, bore a good resemblance to his turbulent thoughts.
Brielle Bennett was a contestant. For his brother. Not a plaything for…
He sucked in a breath and released it in a long, drawn-out gush. And she was suspect. A suspect! Christ, what the hell was wrong with him? He jammed his fists deep into his pockets in an attempt to let off some steam. She certainly could’ve wrecked her clothes and planted the note. He’d lost sight of her when she’d entered the closet, then backed out to call to him. Plenty of time for her to drop the note.
Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose to relieve the pressure building with blinding speed. The case was tough enough without a sexy vixen clouding his mind. This added complication he did not need.
Then there was Matthew.
His eyes snapped open. Forming a connection with one of his brother’s potential girlfriends was inexcusable. He shook his head in disgust. If his men hadn’t arrived when they had…
Guilt flooded his body in a storm surge of remorse. That wouldn't happen again. It was a fluke. A freshly showered, attractive woman, wearing nothing but a flimsy robe—he was only human. What man wouldn’t have reacted like that? Her nipples were peaked as if happy to see him. And those gorgeous brown eyes of hers smoldered. They fucking smoldered.
Feeling justified, he turned from the window and straight into wicked temptation in flimsy blue silk.
“Oh…”
Brielle’s hands flew to his chest in a purely steadying move, but his body rejoiced just the same.
“I-I’m sorry. You seemed deep in thought, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Too late. Jack fought a scowl. Heat radiated from her fingers and shot his body to life. So much for remaining unaffected.
“That’s okay.” He stepped away and nearly tripped over a chair. “I was just…ah…thinking about this room, and the case.” The back of the cushion crumpled under his fist as he steadied himself. Jesus, he was such a pansy ass when she got so close. “Would you mind having a seat, Ms. Bennett?”
“What for?”
Her parted lips forced his grip to tighten. He wasn’t used to people questioning his authority. The majority jumped when he spoke, not stared at him through big, brown eyes full of quiet disdain.
“Because I have a few questions for you.” His words sounded a bit harsh, but he didn’t care. This wasn’t social hour. And he wasn’t amused. He was turned on.
“I see.” Her voice carried a chilly edge.
Good. He needed to get them back on a professional track. She was here for his brother. So was he, and it was time he started acting that way. The threats were his main concern, not her perky breasts.
He stalked across the seating area, then turning to face her, hesitated. Maybe having her sit wasn’t such a good idea. Now her flimsy damn robe parted to reveal one long, sexy, smooth leg. The leg of a dancer. A naked dancer. She didn’t have a stitch of clothing on underneath that scrap of silk. His groin tightened. The sudden urge to run his tongue along the supple, toned curves brought back memories of another dancer. Dangerous memories; memories that had nothing to do with this case—other than the fact Brielle’s legs sparked the same desires.
“Did you want something?”
Hell yeah.
His throat dried. Loaded more than the Smith and Wesson holstered under his jacket, her question instigated images that held his tongue hostage.
Amusement danced in her gaze. “Has my leg offended you? Because if it has, I’d be happy to take it out of here.”
Smart ass. There was nothing funny about the situation or his unwanted attraction to the woman. But her merriment doused enough desire for him to regain control of his mouth.
“Very funny, Ms. Bennett.” Plastering on a fake smile, he shrugged out of his jacket, then tossed it as
ide. The room had suddenly gotten very warm. “I’d like to know more about you and why you’re on this show.”
One of her perfect eyebrows rose above a derisive glance.
“I thought that was obvious. Your parents picked me.”
“No, I mean, why did you apply for the show in the first place?” He leaned against the chair across from her and waited.
Her gaze shot to the ever-present cameraman, then back to him before she shrugged. “For the same reasons the other contestants did, I guess.”
“And what would that be?”
She rolled her eyes. “To meet your brother.”
“You knew Matthew was going to be on here?” He watched her fidget and shift in her seat. Everything inside him stilled. She was about to lie.
“Of course not. But I had hoped the groom would be someone I’m compatible with.”
“And is he?”
She snorted. “Gee, Jack, I wouldn’t know. I seem to be spending more time with you than your brother.”
“Does that bother you?”
Damn! The question was out before he’d had the chance to swallow it down.
“No, it doesn’t. But I’ll tell you what does,” she said, rising to her feet.
She was getting up. Why was she getting up? He wasn’t done with her yet. Now that flimsy excuse for a robe parted to reveal more of those long, sexy legs of hers, tempting...teasing his line of sight with each slow step. Jack swallowed.
This was no time to be a man.
“What bothers me, Jack, is that someone came in here and attacked my clothes.” She stopped next to him and glanced up, her big brown eyes all earnest and intense.
For the first time in Jack’s life, his heart rolled and his legs felt unsteady. Jesus. He was losing control. It would be so easy to get lost in her. Completely, and utterly lost.
Gripping the chair, he stared into those warm, chocolate depths. Who was she? Some kind of witch?
He’d been around plenty of beautiful women in his lifetime and many had thrown themselves at him, yet for the most part, he’d remained unmoved. Why was this one different?
He released the chair and faced her, reminding himself it didn’t matter. Not right now, anyway. What mattered was the case.
Using his training, he shoved away emotion, firmed his resolve and continued the interrogation. “So, you want me to believe you didn’t do this to your clothes?”
Brown eyes rolled. “Haven’t we already been over this?” she asked. “Of course I didn’t do this! Why in the world would you even think that?”
“It just seems convenient that the note showed up after you entered the closet alone.” He crossed his arms and watched as disbelief and anger fought to claim her features.
“Wow. I can’t believe you said that. Look, Mr. Anderson.”
Ah, it’s Mr. Anderson again.
Her slim finger poked his chest. “You don’t know me and—”
“Exactly.” He cut her off, grabbed her attacking appendage and held tight. “I don’t know you, Ms. Bennett, and I won’t take any chances where my brother is concerned.” He waited to see if she’d cry and throw herself at him or rear back and give him a tongue-lashing. His groin jumped at the literal image that last thought brought to mind.
“You’re right.” She tugged her finger from his grasp and stepped back “I don’t blame you; it must be tough to do this show with someone threatening your brother.” Her mouth opened as if she wanted to say more, then she sighed and turned away, but not before he’d seen admiration in her eyes.
Jack couldn’t have been more shocked if she’d dropped the robe and recited the Declaration of Independence while tap dancing. Admiration? He hadn’t expected that reaction. Crying, clinging, yelling, he could deal with, but this? What did he do with this?
“Why not use me?”
His heart rocked. Hard. Doubting his ears, he grasped her shoulder and gently turned her to face him. “What did you say?”
“Use me.”
Her gaze fluttered to his mouth. Ah hell. That did it. The erection he’d been fighting for the last hour sprang fully to life. Then throbbed when she licked her lips.
“You know, as bait.”
“No.” He dropped his hands and strode, albeit painfully, to the center of the room—away from Brielle, yet mindful to stay out of his men’s way.
“Why not?”
He squeezed his eyes shut and, resisting the urge to bounce his head off the wall, scrubbed a hand over his face instead. “Because…”
“Look, Jack.”
So they were back to Jack now. God, he couldn’t keep up with her flip-flopping. She was worse than a fish on a dock. His head began to ache.
“You may not trust me, but I know I didn’t ruin my clothes, and I’d love to find out who did. Let me be your eyes and ears over here.”
He inhaled and opened his eyes. The woman had a point. A good one, dammit. And he could sure use the help. Especially in this mansion. Matthew’s stalker needed to be caught.
He turned around, locked gazes, noting hers was intense, yet sincere. Ah hell, he was toast. With a small shake of his head he exhaled. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
Excitement lit her eyes, reminding him of his own reflection before he started a new case. Yep, burnt toast. Burnt beyond a salvageable scraping.
“First, I think you should set up cameras in my room—”
“In here?” He cut her off again. She couldn’t have meant in here. He must’ve heard wrong. Thanks to the damn pulse pounding through his ears he wasn’t sure. “Let me get this straight, you’re giving me permission to put cameras in your room?”
“Yes. In my room, but not the bathroom, of course,” she added.
“Of course.” He searched her face. Was she playing a game? Was she serious or an actress looking for more air time? A solemn expression met his gaze, no signs of mischief or secret agendas. She really wanted to help. “You do know that not only I will see your room, but the whole world will, too?” He pointed to the camera.
“I know.”
She walked toward the window, and he did his damndest not to think about her sweet ass naked under the thin silk outlining her curves.
He failed.
And now he was hard.
Again.
“Look.” She turned to face him. “I’m not crazy about it, but I do think, since I seemed to have ruffled someone’s feathers, that maybe putting cameras in here will help.”
Yeah, it’ll help all right. Help elevate his already high blood pressure. The thought of watching her in this intimate setting made him sweat.
Apparently, she took his silence to mean acquiescence, and nodded.
“It’s settled then. You set up the cameras, and I’ll see what I can do to flush out the culprit.”
The naked temptation in silk strolled past him toward the door, her gait graceful yet sure. Flush out?
He blinked. “Wait. No way. I never said anything about flushing out the—” Too late. She was gone. “—culprit.”
Only Jack’s crew and the cameraman heard his words.
“Don’t worry, boss. That woman seems capable,” his right hand man, Rodriguez stated.
Jack’s knuckles cracked into fists. Yeah, capable of causing disaster. He tamped down the unknown emotion racing through his body. Every day, things seemed to escalate on this show. Christ. Now he was installing cameras in a sexy dance instructor’s room.
Had his job just gotten easier? Or worse?
Chapter Five
Brielle’s mother of all mornings was quickly spilling into her afternoon. Forced to make breakfast instead of planting bugs, she then had to walk around in front of Jack in nothing but a silk robe, her clothes were shredded, she nearly blew her cover by almost kissing Jack—and now she had to head poolside in front of cameras, crew…the world, in a bathing suit not of her choosing.
“I’m not coming out,” she called to the incessant banging on the bathroom door.
“Come on. It can’t be that bad.” Danni’s voice crackled with humor.
Sure, what did Danni care? The teacher was wearing her own bathing suit.
“It can, and it is.” Brielle surveyed her reflection and frowned.
The studio still hadn’t delivered her clothes, which sucked since Bill expected everyone poolside for their lunch with Matthew. More than happy to attend in her robe, she received an adamant veto from the frowning producer who insisted she wear a bathing suit. And it was just her luck—her bad luck—that Carla had an extra, brand new bathing suit.
Brielle surveyed her reflection again. “If you can call a few strings with small triangles attached a bathing suit.” Cripes. Her shell costume at The Limelight had covered more.
“Come on, Brielle. Matthew’s due any minute now.”
If she didn’t have to worry about keeping in character, she would’ve said, “Good. Have fun.” Resignation, in the form of a long, drawn-out sigh, filled the room. Today was so not her day. “All right, I’m coming.” She slid into her robe, tied the sash extra tight and opened the door. “But you can’t make me take off my robe.”
Danni smiled. “I wouldn’t, but Bill might. You know, ratings and all.”
“Oh, yes.” She stared straight into the camera. “We wouldn’t want the world to miss out on another scantily-clad female, since they’re so rare around here.”
The teacher burst out laughing, and the two of them were still chuckling as they joined the others out by the pool.
“Brielle, I thought you went inside to change.” Bill shaded his eyes with his clipboard. “Why are you still wearing your robe?”
“Haven’t you ever heard of a cover-up, Bill? She has her suit on underneath,” Danni replied in her defense, reaching for a glass of lemonade.
“Oh, okay. But I hope you plan on taking it off. The world’s going to want to see the new girl in her bathing suit.” He motioned to the cameras.
She Does Know Jack Page 7