In Bed with the Enemy

Where Texas society reigns supreme—and appearances are everything.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Cole Yardley
was used to working alone. The last thing he needed or wanted to mess up his investigation was the interference of a
woman
, even if she just happened to be smart as a whip and sexier than sin.

Elise Campbell
had sworn that she would never fall for a colleague. But “Caveman Cole Yardley” was bulldozing his way into her heart the same way he was trying to take over her investigation!

Ricky Mercado
was sick of insinuations that he was involved with the cache of guns recently found at the Lone Star Country Club. Now he had federal agents breathing down his neck. If only he could wipe the slate clean and make a fresh start….

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

“H
aven't I had enough to deal with for one day?” Elise Campbell muttered when she missed the keyhole for the second time.

Waiting two hours for the judge to sign the court order had been a study in frustration. Then, having to listen to John Valente, the new head of the Mercado family, call her “doll” all afternoon made her feel as if she needed a shower. Now she couldn't see over the stack of files in her arms to fit the key into her door at the Mission Creek Inn. Thank goodness once she finally got inside, she could relax and be fairly certain that nothing more could go wrong.

Juggling her purse, the heavy stack of accounting records she'd just confiscated from Valente's office and a small pepperoni pizza, she made another stab at fitting the key into the lock. In hindsight, she
wished she'd made two trips from the rental car to her room, instead of trying to carry it all at one time. But with the mid-August temperature well over a hundred degrees, all she'd been able to think about was getting back inside to collapse in the cool comfort of the air-conditioning.

When she finally heard the quiet click of the lock's release, she quickly turned the knob, stumbled into the room, kicked the door shut behind her and rushed over to dump everything on the desk. Shaking her arms to relieve the quivering in her strained muscles, she crossed the room to stand in front of the vent. The cool air blowing over her heated skin felt heavenly and she decided that after the day she'd had, she deserved a relaxing bath, then a glass of wine with her pizza before she started poring over the computer printouts.

Checking the connecting door between her room and the one next to it, she sighed heavily. The lock was broken. What else could go wrong?

When she checked in this morning, the innkeeper had given her the choice between the two rooms, so she knew the one next door was empty. But that didn't mean it would stay that way. Taking the chair from the desk, she jammed it under the doorknob. At least maybe it would slow someone down if they tried to enter her room without an invitation.

Twenty minutes later, she sat cross-legged in the middle of the queen-size bed, nibbling on a piece of pizza crust while she watched the six o'clock news. The weatherman promised that the rest of the month in south Texas was going to be a carbon copy of the past few days—hot. She glanced down at the shorts
and tank top she'd pulled on after her bath. It was a shame she couldn't wear clothes like these to do her job, instead of tailored suits and panty hose.

Shrugging, Elise reached for the glass of wine she'd ordered from room service. She froze with the goblet halfway to her lips when she heard someone enter the room next to hers. Listening closely, she detected a single set of heavy footsteps crossing the room. Definitely a man. A dull thump followed by a succinct curse caused her eyes to widen. Either the man had dropped a large piece of luggage, or a body. By the phrases he was using, she wasn't sure which. But whoever the guy was on the other side of the wall, he definitely was
not
a happy camper.

Moving her 9 mm Glock within easy reach, she slid it out of the holster and released the safety. She wasn't thrilled that the lock on the door connecting their rooms was broken, but there wasn't anything she could do about that now. She glanced at the chair still propped under the knob. If the guy in the next room really wanted into her room, a lock wouldn't prevent him from gaining entry any more than the chair would. Locks only slowed criminals down, they didn't keep them out.

When she heard the door on his side of the wall open, she gripped the gun in her right hand, extended her arm, then cupped the butt end with her left hand. She wasn't the least bit surprised when the door on her side of the wall swung wide, shattering the chair as it crashed against the corner of the desk.

A very tall, extremely well-built man with short, dark-brown hair and piercing hazel eyes stood like a tree rooted to the spot. “I want to know what the hell
you think you're doing interfering in my case, Campbell,” he demanded, paying absolutely no attention to the gun pointed at the middle of his black T-shirt.

“And I want to know what you think you're doing barging into my room without so much as knocking, Yardley,” Elise asked calmly, lowering the gun. She engaged the safety, then holstered the firearm. “Of course, that's the ATF's style, isn't it? Just storm in without the slightest thought about the consequences.”

“No more so than the FBI's style of sending a woman out in the field to do a man's job,” he retorted.

Grinding her back teeth at the sexist barb, Elise refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd touched a nerve. She smiled sweetly. “I see you haven't changed since the last time I saw you. You're still Caveman Cole, the ATF's very own knuckle-dragging Neanderthal.”

He shrugged as he reached into the box on the desk to take a piece of pizza. “Some things don't change. Your tongue's still as sharp as ever.” His hazel eyes twinkling, he gave her an amused grin. “But if you're wanting to know what my opinion is of female agents working in the field—”

“I already know all about them, Yardley,” Elise interrupted as she unfolded her legs to sit on the side of the bed. “And I could care less. The fact that my superiors have confidence in my abilities is all that matters.” Laughing, she added, “Your opinion certainly doesn't.”

She watched a muscle jerk along his lean jaw. Her
statement had irritated him. Good. She was pretty darned ticked off herself.

“When the spit hits the fan, the last thing a man needs is to be watching out for a woman,” he said unapologetically. “Somebody could get hurt or killed.”

“Oh, give me a break, Yardley. Female agents are just as competent as male agents.”

Cole shook his head as he chewed the pizza. Women! Just because she'd gone through training, been issued a gun and awarded the same title as her male counterparts didn't mean she was capable of conducting high-priority investigations. And the Mercado crime family's connection to the smuggling ring funneling weapons into the tiny Central American country of Mezcaya was just such a case.

Distracted by thoughts of women holding jobs they weren't physically capable of doing, he was completely unprepared when she stood up and walked toward him. The sight of her long, slender legs made his mouth go as dry as a container of talcum powder. What in hell had her superiors been thinking when they assigned such a soft-looking, attractive female operative with the stakes this high?

What was her first name? Eloise? Eleanor? Eliza?

Whatever the hell it was, the FBI's Special Agent Campbell was not only the prickliest female he'd ever encountered, she had the best-looking legs he'd seen in ages. They were the kind of legs that a man dreamed of having wrapped around him when he sank himself—

Cole clenched his teeth and bit back a pithy curse. But when she walked past the air-conditioning vent
on her way to the desk for another piece of pizza, he thought his eyes might just pop right out of his head. The cold air made her nipples peak and push against her hot-pink tank top.

Ah, hell. She wasn't wearing a bra. His lower body stirred as if to remind him that, although he didn't like noticing that little fact about her, it wasn't an unpleasant sight.

Shoving the last bite of the pizza slice into his mouth to keep from cussing a blue streak, he decided right then and there to take some vacation time after he wrapped up this case. What he needed was a few days with nothing more to concentrate on than a six-pack of ice-cold beer and a warm, willing woman. He knew for a fact that he'd been without female companionship too damn long if the sight of Campbell aroused him.

She wasn't just pretty, he thought grudgingly as he studied her flawless features. With her short auburn hair complementing her wide emerald eyes and peaches-and-cream complexion, she was actually a damn fine-looking woman. So why hadn't he noticed that when they worked parallel cases two years ago? She looked the same now as she had then. Of course, it had been winter and she'd been wearing pantsuits instead of shorts and a top that should be outlawed.

When his body tightened and his jeans suddenly felt a little too snug for comfort, Cole gritted his teeth and forced himself to remember who she was. This was the woman who not only started meddling in the case he was building against the Mercado family and their suspected gun-smuggling operation, she just
plain rubbed him the wrong way every time he found himself in the same room with her.

“Well, do you?” she asked, giving him an expectant look.

Hell, he'd been so busy trying to figure out why he suddenly found her attractive, he had no idea what she was talking about. “What was the question again?”

She pointed to the splinters of wood at his feet. “Do you intend to see that the ATF reimburses the inn for that chair? Since you were the one who broke it, I don't think the FBI should be held responsible.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” He bent down to pick up the pieces at the same time she did. When their heads collided, she went reeling backward and Cole had to act fast to keep her from falling on her sweet little rear. “Are you all right?”

“If I had any doubt before, I've got the proof now,” she said, ruffling the soft-looking curls at her temple as she rubbed her head.

“What are you talking about?” How was a man supposed to know what a woman meant when she talked in circles?

“I've always suspected you were hardheaded.” She quickly stepped away from him. “Now I know for sure. You are.”

Cole might have laughed at her quick-witted response if he'd been able to draw a breath. The feel of her smooth, warm skin where he'd caught her arms had sent a jolt of electricity straight up his own arms to spread throughout his chest, and the peach scent of her newly washed hair had wrapped around him like a velvet cape.

He swallowed hard and rubbed his own head. They must have hit harder than he'd thought. Hell, he might even have a mild concussion. It was the only reason he could think of to explain
that
kind of reaction to her.

After he'd picked up what was left of the chair, he started for the door. “I'll be back as soon as I put this in the Dumpster. Then we'll talk about your investigation.”

She cocked one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

Grinning, Cole opened the door leading into the hall. “Yep. We're going to set some kind of boundary to keep you from blowing my case.”

“
Me
blowing your case?” She propped her fists on her shapely hips and tapped her bare foot on the carpet. “What about
you
jeopardizing mine?”

He shrugged. “It won't matter. I'll have Ricky Mercado and the rest of his family in custody and indicted for gun smuggling before you even get started.”

When he closed the door, he laughed out loud at the unladylike phrase he heard coming from the other side.

 

Elise sat with her back propped against the headboard of the bed, thinking about what had happened when Caveman Cole caught her to prevent her fall. His large hands on her bare arms had made every nerve in her body spark to life and sent a wave of goose bumps skipping over her skin. And that confused her.

She'd never had that kind of reaction to him before.
Far from it. Two years ago, when they'd conducted parallel investigations on a case similar to the Mercado family's, she'd ended each day so angry, so utterly and completely frustrated by his chauvinistic attitude, that each night she'd bought a quart of double-fudge, chocolate-chunk ice cream and eaten the whole carton. But who wouldn't be upset by his antiquated views of what careers women should and shouldn't have?

Caveman Cole had made it perfectly clear that he thought women had absolutely no business doing anything but staying home to cook, clean and bear children. Period.

Elise had no problem with staying home, if that was what a woman wanted. She did, however, have a
big
problem with a man telling her what her choices should be. She had a mind of her own, thank you very much, and she was perfectly capable of deciding for herself what she wanted to do with her life.

She sighed. But as irritating as it had been to be around Caveman Cole, that case had garnered her a commendation and gained her the reputation of being one of the best in the Bureau for finding a paper trail where none seemingly existed. Unfortunately, it had also caused her to put on an extra ten pounds.

When the Caveman strolled back through the door connecting his room to hers, she frowned. The man was insufferable and the most arrogant soul she'd ever met.

“Don't you ever knock?” She shook her head. “No need to answer that. You being an ATF agent, I don't suppose you do.”

“Like the FBI is any better about knocking when
they make a raid,” he said, plopping down in the armchair across the room.

She sighed. “This isn't getting us anywhere.”

“At least we agree on that,” he said, nodding. He leaned forward, propped his forearms on his knees and loosely clasped his hands between his knees. “The way I see it, we can play this one of two ways.”

“And what would they be?” If he thought he was going to take over her investigation, he'd better think again.

“You can tell me what you're investigating and I'll let you know if that will hurt my case.” When she started to tell him she'd do no such thing, he held up a hand. “Or, I can tell you what to leave alone.”

Elise shook her head. “Fat chance, Yardley. You're not telling me what to do. But you'll find out anyway, so I might as well tell you. I seized the accounting records of the Mercados' trucking and produce companies this afternoon.”

“Going after the money angle, huh?”

“It's a place to start.”

“You do know you've got the doctored version of their books?” he asked. “The real records are tucked away in some vault somewhere.”