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Hot Target
Hot Target
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Hot Target

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Yes! And it would be easier if he would let her go and stop touching her. “You’ve not exactly given me reason to do anything but hate you.”

She got her wish. He dropped his hands from her waist and stared at her. “Because I was trying to get rid of you, and for the record, I know I was a jerk and I’m sorry. But you have to admit you were an easy target, with all kinds of preconceived notions about me.”

Her eyes went wide. “You admit you were a jerk?”

“Yes,” he said pointedly, hands on his hips. “And I said I’m sorry, in case you missed that part. Now it’s your turn. Do you admit you judged me before meeting me?”

She sighed, crossing her arms in front of her chest, her foot tapping with nervous energy. It was true, she had prejudged him. “Okay, yes, I did, but I’m not apologizing. You were a jerk. I have no reason to believe it was an act.”

“Do you make a habit of kissing jerks?”

“Apparently, I do,” she replied shortly.

His expression darkened, eyes flashed. “I’m not him, you know.”

She knew who he meant. Her ex. The one who had said he was different from all the others but wasn’t. She chose to play dumb. “Who might that be?”

He nodded decisively. “Got it. You don’t want to talk about the past, and that appears to be the root of all my evil.”

“You learn fast,” she said. “But you seem to create your own evil quite nicely. You don’t need anyone from my past to do it for you.”

His jaw tensed, heat firing from his eyes, a mixture of anger and arousal. He wanted to kiss her into submission—she could see it in his eyes, and she barely contained the urge to back away.

“I’ll drop it.” Then he added with emphasis, “For now.” He considered her a moment. “I’ll show you to your room.”

“Oh, no,” Katie said with a nervous laugh. “I don’t need you to escort me to my bedroom.” She’d kissed him. She didn’t want to do something crazy, like undress him, and considering she kept thinking about it, a solo trip to her room seemed smarter. “Just point me in the right direction.”

His anger slid away with the appearance of a twinkle in his eyes. “Tucking tail and running?”

Yeah, she was, but she wasn’t admitting that. She was running, and doing so fast and hard. Ripping his clothes off would get her nowhere but in trouble, yet she wanted to. Oh, boy, did she want to. That she was even thinking about it spoke volumes about where her head was right now, and it wasn’t a place that allowed her to do her job. Luke was in danger. She was here to protect him, not get naked with him. It was time to get it together.

And yet, with that grand plan in mind, she still responded to his challenge, still could not resist saying, “I do not tuck tail and hide.”

“I said run, not hide.”

She shrugged. “Same thing.”

“If you say so,” he said, obviously unconvinced, but he didn’t push. “I’m hungry. You like Chinese food? There’s a spot up the road that delivers.”

She shook her head, trying to clear the skid marks from the sudden change of topic. “What game are you playing, Luke Winter?”

“No game. I’m hungry. I figured you might be, too.”

He was trying to get her to let down her guard again. She wasn’t a fool. This man and this situation were turning her upside down. “You’re my client.”

“Right,” he said, reaching for a cordless phone on the bar and sitting down. “And that means what exactly?”

Her chin inched up. She wanted the parameters set. The line drawn in the sand. Directness seemed her best option. “I can’t do this, Luke,” she said.

“Eat with me or sleep with me?”

“I can’t sleep with you.”

He arched that damnably sexy eyebrow and said, “Chinese food is okay, though, right?”

She inhaled, suddenly feeling really not so good about her directness—embarrassed, in fact. Maybe he’d already played his game and won the kiss. Maybe he’d moved on, and she was making something big out of nothing. He was a jerk, and she’d become some passing notch on his belt.

“I’m not hungry, after all,” she said. “I’d really prefer that you direct me to my room, and we can try starting fresh in the morning.”

“Tell me,” he said, resting his elbows on the bar, his dark tee stretching over well-honed muscle. “How are you going to play the role of my girlfriend when you’re running away from me?”

Damn the man. “I’m not running.”

“Prove it,” he dared with a gleam in his eye that told her she should keep her mouth shut. “Stay here and eat with me.”

“We’ll have plenty of time to eat together on the road,” she said. “And I have nothing to prove. I simply want to get some rest.”

He considered her a moment. “First door on the right at the top of the stairs.”

That was all she had to hear. Katie turned in flight, rushing toward the door, ready for escape. Running. Oh, yeah, she was running. “Katie.”

Something in his tone, in the softly spoken word, drew her to a pause at the door. She half turned, ready to complete her escape. “Yes?”

“I’m going to try to change your mind,” he said. He wasn’t talking about Chinese food. He was talking about sex.

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t try.” But as she stepped into the hall, departing before he could say more, she knew she wanted him to try. Because she wanted him. She couldn’t run. She couldn’t hide. Not when she was sleeping in the man’s house.

4

IT WAS almost midnight, a good forty-five minutes after Katie left Luke in his den. She’d showered in the private bathroom attached to her bedroom and changed into shorts and a T-shirt, her stomach growling with the absence of that Chinese food.

Katie sat cross-legged on top of a massive sleigh bed that was draped in a fluffy, navy-blue comforter, talking with her best friend and outrageously outspoken business partner, Donna Montgomery.

“Sleeping with Luke Winter could be the best thing you ever did,” Donna said in the normal brazen fashion with which she approached life that somehow fit her fiery red hair and curves galore. “And since you’re play dating him, you might as well get the benefits.”

Leaning back against the array of throw pillows and pulling her knees to her chest, Katie rolled her eyes and embraced the levelheaded control she considered critical to her success, despite having shown none of it with Luke thus far. “That’s insane. You’re insane. No. Sleeping with Luke Winter would be insane.”

“Some people would say not sleeping with a man like that would be insane,” Donna insisted. “I’m one of those people, by the way.”

“Really?” Katie said in mock disbelief. “I would never have guessed that.”

“You know what they say,” she added. “If you fall off a bike, get back on and ride again. Ride another athlete, sweetheart. Then maybe you can finally move on from Joey.”

“Oh, good grief,” Katie said. “I do not need an athlete to ride. I moved past Joey Martin a long time ago. I never loved that man to start with.”

“Oh, I know that,” she said. “Joey’s power over you had nothing to do with Joey. It was about your knee being blown out and your dancing career with it. But it left you guarded. You have to move on, not from Joey, but from yourself.” She hesitated and then softened her voice. “It’s been years, Katie. Do what you need to do to put the past to rest, but put it to rest.”

“It’s resting,” she said. “I’ve simply been too busy to date. If the right guy comes around, I will. But Luke Winter isn’t that guy. He’s a client.” Which was why the molten attraction to him could go nowhere.

“You mean he’s a ballplayer,” Donna said.

“That’s irrelevant,” Katie reminded her.

“Actually it’s quite relevant,” Donna countered. “It’s a chance to be empowered. Have a hot fling and move on, and do so with a smile on your face. As Nike says—Just do it! Besides, you said he doesn’t take these threats seriously. Sometimes the woman in a man’s bed has the most influence on him.”

Or the least, Katie thought drily. Which might be exactly what Luke hoped for. Sex with Luke might not keep her from doing her job, but it would keep him from taking her seriously. And sex complicating her relationship with Luke might well send her packing, and her sister was too important to risk this job going wrong.

“Luke is the one paying our salaries right now,” Katie said. “Seriously, woman, where is your professionalism?”

“Oh, all right,” Donna reluctantly acknowledged. “I guess you have a point.”

“Finally,” Katie announced. “Which brings us to the reason I took this job in the first place. How is my sister?”

“Carrie is a royal pain in the backside, as always, but she’s safe. The girl couldn’t find good sense if it was chasing her. How you two are related, I’ll never understand. Are you sure your mom didn’t cheat on your dad, and she’s the product of an affair?”

“You ask me that all the time, so I’ll ignore the question and move on.”

“You always do, and I never get my answer. Funny that. Makes me wonder more.” Then, as if Donna read her mind, which she often did, she added, “I delivered the first payment to those damn, bloodsucking sharks. Sorry bastards.”

Katie laughed, embracing her friend’s boisterous, opinionated and impossible-to-ignore personality to lighten the dark situation. Thank God for her.

“What?” Donna asked innocently—there was nothing innocent about Donna.

“Just loving that loud mouth of yours right about now,” Katie admitted. “Get some sleep, woman.” Katie sighed, but then remembered something. “Oh, wait. What time—”

“Ten o’clock on American Flight 202, but not until Saturday. They had a few bumps wrapping up their present assignment.” And today was Wednesday. Damn. “They” referred to Noah and Josh, Katie’s two most trusted security experts.

“What kind of bumps?” She pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” She knew that they knew what they were doing. If they needed more time, they needed more time. She simply wanted company guarding Luke so she wasn’t alone with him. “Just tell them to try and get here sooner. Thanks for always being on top of things, Donna,” Katie said appreciatively. “Oh, and FYI, I should have a full file on Luke, and the threats he’s received, early tomorrow. At least, that’s what Ron promised me at the airport.”

“I certainly would hope so,” Donna said. “He rushed you to take this job as it is. If it’s urgent so is the data for us to do our jobs.”

“Agreed,” Katie said. “But right now, we should both get some rest.”

“Night-night, Katie dear. Dream sweet. May I suggest a theme? How about a little true undercover action with a certain sexy baseball player? A pitcher maybe?”

Katie laughed despite herself. “The only way you could know he’s sexy is if you did an online search. And you did, didn’t you?”

Donna snorted. “I watch television.”

“You hate sports.”

“But not the players,” she said. “I’d love some baseball player in nice tight pants. Oh, yes. I keep up with the highlights. Luke’s a hottie. Admit it.”

“Professionalism, Donna,” Katie said, pretending ample indignation. “I’m hanging up.”

“Meaning you think he’s sexy.”

“Hanging up now, Donna.” And she did. Katie hit the end button on the phone and tossed it to the bed. The phone immediately rang again. She rolled her eyes and answered. “Donna. Good night already.” Silence.

“Donna?”

A strange feeling inched its way up her spine. This wasn’t Donna or anyone else she called a friend. The line was so silent, it was eerie. But someone was on the line. Someone who had her private phone number.

Apparently the hoodlums who were after her sister knew people. Damn. She took a deep, calming breath. “I told you the money was coming. You’ll get it.” Silence.

“You’ll get your money.”

The line went dead. Katie dialed Donna to warn her. By the time she hung up the phone again, she was ready to pace the floor. No way was she sleeping.

NEAR EIGHT the next morning, dressed in black jeans and a matching black ruffled blouse, Katie sat at Luke’s island kitchen bar. With only a few hours of sleep under her belt, Katie had, nevertheless, woken up more determined than ever to keep things between her and Luke all business and, in fact, to get down to business. She placed a steamy cup of coffee beside her; she needed the caffeine and had helped herself to the coffeepot.

Those gambling sharks had to get out of her sister’s life, and this job allowed Katie the financial means to make it happen. That advantage deserved grateful hard work, not the bitter resistance she’d come here with, which, if she were honest with herself, was immature and out of character.

She was here to keep the man safe, and she intended to do so. That she wanted him, that he clearly and totally rocked her body to a steamy sizzle, complicated things. But she wasn’t going to allow it to get in the way of protecting him. And truth be told, playing the girlfriend put her front and center with those closest to him—and those people had to be considered suspects.

So with all that logic recapped in her mind about a million times and with her laptop fired up in front of her, Katie searched media blitzes involving Luke that might offer leads on his stalker. She tabbed through a recent story on Luke regarding the thieving, low-life manager he’d endured before Ron took over. Luke had been through some real bad stuff lately, enough to make her sit up and take notice. No wonder he didn’t want Katie around, she thought, lifting her coffee cup to sip. A sudden prickling of heat tingled along her skin.

Katie’s gaze lifted and settled on Luke, who was standing in the entryway, looking good enough to eat for breakfast in faded jeans, a team T-shirt that hugged his oh-so-yummy broad chest, and a pair of scuffed cowboy boots. His light brown hair, thick and a bit mussed up, screamed for well-placed female fingers—not hers, she told herself. Okay. Maybe hers.

“You’re up early,” he said, crossing to the coffeepot and grabbing a cup from the shiny walnut cabinet.

“So are you,” she said, quickly minimizing the computer screen to hide the story she was reading so Luke wouldn’t see it.

“I’m an early riser,” he said from behind and to her right. “It’s a curse. No matter how late I go to sleep, I wake up by eight in the morning.”

She rotated around to bring him into view, resting her arm on the high back of the bar stool. “I wish I had that curse. It would make getting up easier.”

“You don’t want this curse. It leaves you sleep deprived more times than not.” He filled his cup. “I see you found the coffee.”

“Hope you don’t mind,” she said, but somehow she knew he didn’t. “I kind of made myself at home.”

He joined her at the corner of the bar, directly beside her, and reached for the creamer sitting next to her computer. “Not at all,” he commented, dumping the creamer in his cup. “Nice to wake up to it already made.” He snagged her spoon where it rested on a paper towel and stirred. Her spoon. He knew it was hers. It was an intimate gesture of sharing that people in relationships did and it sent a silly little flutter through Katie’s stomach.

“That’s what they make automatic-timer coffeepots for,” she said.

He sipped his coffee. “I never seem to remember to put the coffee in the night before.”

“I’m surprised Maria doesn’t set it up for you,” she commented.

He shrugged. “She only comes three times a week,” he said. “She keeps the dust from building up while I’m gone, and it’s nice to have a home-cooked meal when I’ve been on the road for months on end.”

“Where are your parents?” Katie asked. “Are you close to them?”

“They’re in Austin, Texas, where I played college ball. Still my biggest fans and the best people I have ever known in this lifetime despite being my parents.”

Katie smiled softly, took a sip of her coffee. It said a lot about a man when he was not only close to his parents, but spoke openly about how close he was to them. “Any siblings?”

He took a drink and then set his cup down. “None,” he said, resting his hands on the end of the island bar. “What about you? Parents? Siblings?”