Texan Undercover (Romantic Suspense) (11 page)

From the consternation on Dillon's face,
Claire knew why. He didn't trust her. Still. It shouldn't hurt, but
it did.

Dillon tightened his grip. "It was in the
best interest of the investigation. Look, if something suspicious
comes up, dial this number and you'll reach him." He shoved a scrap
of paper into her palm and held her hand a moment, rubbing the soft
underside of her wrist. "This thing between us . . ." His voice was
rough, hoarse. "It's not going away."

Claire nodded, keeping her eyes on his hand
holding hers. He had strong hands, strong fingers. The tips blunt,
the nails neatly trimmed. She wanted his hands on her body. The
familiar heat kindled inside again.

He stopped rubbing, but still held her hand.
"I've never felt it like this before."

That made two of them. She pulled her hand
away and looked up into the hazel eyes regarding her almost
tenderly. Oh man, she was in trouble. Big trouble.

Dillon stepped back. "I'm sorry about the
banquet, Claire."

"No problem. Good luck in Dallas." She
climbed in the car, started the engine and pulled out of the
parking lot. One last look in the rearview mirror showed Dillon
standing tall, watching her drive away. She would miss him, damn
it. And she couldn't deny the sense of loss and regret or the
frustration vaulting around her tummy because they wouldn't be able
to fulfill his after-banquet plans.

****

Dillon walked back to the cafe, entering by
the rear door. He'd hated disappointing Claire, although he had the
feeling she really hadn't wanted him to accompany her to the
banquet. It would have been the perfect opportunity to further
their acquaintance. Move the relationship to the next level. Get
her in bed. His body tightened at the thought of Claire reaching
for him, opening her beautiful body to him, letting him slip inside
her heat.
Damn.

The kitchen was quiet after the noontime
rush; the electric hum from the refrigerator and the swish of the
dishwasher the only sounds. Richard was nowhere in sight. His two
assistants sat in the corner playing cards. Dillon nodded in their
direction, grabbed a pastry and a cup of black coffee on his way
out. He'd use Claire's office to finish up the day's work, then
meet with Brozek to compare notes, before heading to Dallas.

He wished he could have sent his partner to
take care of the crisis, but the matter warranted Dillon's
expertise. It was damned inconvenient to leave Austin at this time.
Like he'd told Claire--they were getting close to finding the
hacker. Dillon felt it in his gut. Something was going down soon.
And thank goodness. This case had taken longer than anyone had
expected.

Dillon bit into the flaky pastry crust,
holding it between his teeth as he opened Claire's door. He almost
spilled his coffee when he surprised Richard sitting at Claire's
desk.

"
Monsieur!
How you frightened me."
Richard quickly exited the program he'd been using and stood to
face Dillon. "What are you doing in
mademoiselle'
s
office?"

"I was about to ask the same question."
Dillon closed the door softly behind him. He set the pastry and
coffee on the desk and frowned at the little man. Had he been wrong
about him? Could the Frenchman be the hacker? "Why are you using
Claire's computer?"

"Mine, it has cracked, you see."

"Cracked? You mean crashed?" If he weren't
involved in the investigation, Dillon might find this amusing. But
it wasn't funny at all. And he had a job to do.

"
Oui
, very
inopportun
. I
couldn't find you or
mademoiselle
to repair it. I have very
important work to do and can't spare the time to wait. So, here I
am." He shrugged.

"What important work are you doing?" Dillon
noted agitation and guilt cross the chef's face. What the hell was
going on with him?

"That I cannot tell." Richard clamped a fist
to his chest and raised his chin. "Wild elephants could not drag it
from me. It is, how you say . . . a secret."

"I see." Dillon didn't see at all, but
intended to find out. "Well, I'm here now. I'll take a look at your
computer."

"That will not be necessary," Richard said
hurriedly. "I would rather
mademoiselle
to repair it. Now, I
must return to my kitchen."

Dillon caught the chef's sleeve as he passed
around the desk. "Not so fast, Pierre."

Again that Gallic chin raised. "I have told
you before,
monsieur
. My name is not Pierre." He looked
pointedly at Dillon's hand on his sleeve. "If you please to release
me?"

Dillon let go and stepped back. He picked up
the pastry and took a bite. "These are very good." Maybe he'd try a
different approach.

Richard nodded and stood tall.
"
Naturellement!
Me, I am a very good cook. We are through,
no?" He didn't wait for an answer and walked out the door.

Dillon shook his head. Yeah, this would be
funny if he could make certain the little chef was innocent.
Sitting in Claire's chair, he finished the pastry and sipped his
coffee. He'd go over the keystrokes on this computer immediately.
Find out what Richard was up to. He glanced at his watch. No, he
didn't have time. He'd have to give a heads up to Brozek.

They had studied the keystrokes on Natalie's
computer after Winslowe had been on it. Nothing there. Not that it
cleared Winslowe of any wrongdoing. Dillon was keeping his eye on
the professor. He was keeping his eye on several of the customers.
One misstep and they would have the hacker. One break and the
investigation would be over. Then he'd go back to Dallas for good
and leave Austin and Claire behind.

Dillon ignored the empty feeling at that
thought. He told himself it was because he hadn't got her in bed
yet. He wouldn't really be finished here in Austin until he made
love to Claire.

He downloaded the data from the computer onto
a disk to give to Brozek. While he waited, he sat back and drank
his coffee. He could smell Claire here in her office. Everywhere he
looked, he saw reminders of her. The neat desk, straight stacks of
paper, every pen in place. He opened a drawer and smiled. Paper
clips, rubber bands--everything organized.

Claire left nothing to chance. She liked
things planned out. Liked to play it safe. And she didn't feel safe
with him. The strong attraction between them scared her. Hell, if
he was honest with himself, it scared him, too.

But he didn't want to play it safe. He wanted
Claire. And he had it all planned out. Have a good time, then
leave. All he had to do now was convince Claire.

CHAPTER SEVEN

After a quick trip to Nacogdoches on Friday,
Claire checked the other two cafes on Saturday, spent the night in
Huntsville, then returned to Austin early Sunday afternoon. She
jumped in and cleaned two closets and fell into bed exhausted late
that night. But sleep wouldn't come. She had thought if she kept
busy, she wouldn't have to acknowledge how much she missed
Dillon.

Wrong.

Staring at the ceiling in the darkness of her
bedroom, Claire couldn't deny it any longer. She did miss him. A
lot. She missed the way he looked at her with hunger in his eyes.
Missed the way he filled her office with his masculine presence.
Missed his touch. How he smelled. How he tasted. Missed the sizzle.
Missed the man.

She was in over her head and knew it. She
wanted Dillon like she'd never wanted anyone before. She wished he
was here now. Beside her in bed. Or looming over her . . .

With a groan, Claire punched her pillow and
pulled the comforter more securely around her shoulders. Blanking
her mind of all thought, she willed herself to sleep.

Early the next morning, she was at e*Claire's
before anyone else. She hadn't been in the office since Thursday
afternoon. After her absence, Claire knew her in-boxes, both email
and paper, would be full to overflowing. She sat down at her desk
and that's when she saw it.

A folded piece of paper with her name
scrawled across the top. Claire set her coffee down and picked up
the note. She knew before she opened it who it was from. With
trembling fingers she unfolded the paper.

You and me, babe. Together. When I get
back.

Claire stared at the words. Bold, to the
point, cocky, arrogant. Just like the man.

She felt the burn down to her center core.
Her tummy did a funny little twirly thing. Maybe she should be
offended, except she wasn't. As far as love letters went, it wasn't
very romantic, but it was real. Dillon wanted her. And God help
her, she wanted him, too.

Claire folded the note and tucked it in her
pocket. She decided to stop by the drugstore on the way home
tonight. If she was going to engage in sex, she wanted to be
prepared. Planning ahead was her middle name. She just hoped she
could plan far enough ahead so she wouldn't get hurt when the fire
fizzled out.

She wouldn't think about that. When Dillon
returned, she would try her darnedest to enjoy what they had
together for however long it lasted. She reminded herself she
wasn't looking for a real relationship. She wasn't looking for love
or commitment. She'd done that and failed miserably. Some things,
even well planned, didn't work out.

With a long drawn out sigh, she turned to her
computer and opened her email. After dealing with the
correspondence, she snatched a yellow legal pad from her desk and
jotted down a list of everything that needed to be done before the
anniversary celebration. Glancing at the calendar, Claire realized
it was less than two weeks away.

Lots to do before then. Advertisements in the
local paper and a few spots on the radio. Signs all over campus.
Promises of free food should bring in more of those hungry college
students. Balloons and banners needed to be ordered. And she would
consult Richard about the food. Natalie would take care of most of
the preparations, but Claire wanted to be involved, too. Five years
was a milestone and she intended to celebrate.

Claire went online and ordered the computer
components for the upgrade. No matter what Dillon thought about it,
she was determined to do the upgrade before the celebration.

Feeling like she'd just done something
naughty, Claire hit the order confirmation button and closed the
browser. Turning to her desk, she picked up the stack of mail that
had accumulated during her absence. She sorted it into piles until
she came to the last letter in the stack.

It was addressed to her, not the cafe, with
no return address. A plain white envelope, computer generated
label.

Claire reached for the letter opener, slit
the top and slid out the single sheet of nondescript white paper.
There was no date, no heading, no salutation. Four lines and
nothing else:

I was wrong about you.

I thought you were on my side.

I don't appreciate being watched and
monitored.

There will be repercussions.

She dropped the letter and stared at it.
Someone had sneaked into her office and left it on her desk. The
hacker had found out about the surveillance. Dillon had been wrong.
The guy
was
potentially dangerous. He was threatening her,
wasn't he?

Claire grabbed her purse and pulled out the
slip of paper Dillon had given her. She wished he'd left a number
where he could be contacted. She desperately needed to hear his
deep voice. Needed his reassurance that everything would be okay.
What had happened to her hard won independence?

She punched the numbers on the phone and
waited. Dillon's partner answered on the second ring.

"This is Brozek." The man sounded like he'd
been asleep. Claire swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Hello?" The voice was deep and
commanding.

"My name's Claire Maxwell. Dillon gave me
your number."

"Right. How can I help you? Is something
wrong?"

Claire glanced at the letter. "I've been
contacted by the hacker."

"Are you all right? Are you in any
danger?"

"I'm okay."
Liar.
How could this be
happening?

"What kind of contact, Ms. Maxwell?"

"A letter. He sent me a letter." Claire felt
sick to her stomach. A delayed reaction.

"Where are you?" Brozek asked.

"The cafe." Alone in the cafe. Her palms felt
sweaty.

"Give me ten minutes. I'll come to the back
door. Don't touch the letter any more than necessary." He
disconnected.

Claire hung up the phone. The
Mission
Impossible
theme played in her head again. But this time, it
wasn't the least bit amusing. Up until now, the whole hacker thing
hadn't seemed real. The not-so-innocent letter on her desk made it
very real.

A dark-haired man appeared at the back door
exactly ten minutes later. Claire let him in.

"Ms. Maxwell? Stan Brozek." He stuck out his
hand and gave hers a brief shake.

"I've seen you before in the cafe," Claire
said.

"Yes, assisting my partner."

Claire couldn't help staring at the man. He
was tall with broad shoulders. Olive skin, black brows and deep
brackets where other people had dimples--all emphasized his strong
Slavic features. He was bad boy personified in a leather jacket,
brass belt buckle, white t-shirt, and faded jeans.

"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.