Seducing an Heiress (10 page)

"Isn't that right, Ms. Johnson?" he asked. He tossed her a pointed look, much as she had done just moments ago. 

She snapped her mouth closed and swallowed. "Um, yes, of course. That is right...ah, correct. Mr. Peters is somewhat of an amateur playwright. He's hoping the City Council will, um, like the play."

Mr. Lambert frowned. "With all due respect, that is the most preposterous--"

"And so far, we're quite impressed," Mrs. Tilster sang out, signally the waitress for more coffee. 

"Indeed," her sister, Mrs. Aster, added from across the table.

The two women gave the inspector the benefit of their unified baleful stares. 

He cleared his throat. "You are the City Council?"

"Certainly not." Mrs. Tilster drew herself up, her matronly figure radiating resentment.

"Well then--"

"We are only two members, but we were asked to evaluate Mr. Peter's play. We had some reservations about one particular scene and Dakota kindly volunteered to act it out with him."

Dakota flashed the stalwart ladies a grateful smile. A soft affection curled through her heart at the loyalty of her friends and customers--along with a lump of guilt that she'd been forced to deceive them about so many things. 

Mr. Lambert looked Trey up and down, and then shifted his gaze to her. She did her best to look innocent. 

His attention pivoted back to Mrs. Tilster. "I would much appreciate your input as I compile my reports, ma'am."

"Certainly. We have nothing to hide in Harts Creek."

Hoo boy. If she only knew
. 

Dakota felt her face heat and hoped Mr. Lambert wasn't trained to spot shysters and liars. No such luck. The inspector had his beady, cold eyes laser-beamed right on her. 

"That's what they all say, my dear lady," he said, stiffly. 

*  *  *

Dakota tore through her kitchen with Trey right behind her and barreled out the back door. Once they were outside, she turned to face him. The inspector had left for his hotel, but he wouldn't be gone long. A lump of anxiety burned under her ribs like bad five-alarm chili.

"I'm getting a headache keeping up with all these lies," she said, pacing away from him and then back.

Trey crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the building. "AENC Inspector. Wow. These guys really take this contest seriously." 

"Writing a play for the community? I can't believe Mrs. T and A backed you up."

"T and A?" His eyebrows rose a fraction. "You're kidding right?"

She frowned at him, confused. That's what everyone called the sisters. "What are you babbling about?"

"Not a thing. And it wasn't me they were backing up. I'm still in the dog house for going out with the Jamison heiress, remember? They were backing
you
up."

Really? A feeling of comfort brushed lightly through her. Trey had stuck up for her, too, though his motivations were probably not as pure. Even so, she couldn't help hoping he was starting to see her as more than just another job.

She stopped pacing. "Thanks for saving me on that one."

"Can't let a little thing like an inspector blow your cover. You might run."

She tried not to sigh. Hope was overrated. "I still owe you for it."

His eyes, a sparkling moss green in the late morning light, sharpened. "I like the sound of that."

Just like Trey to see a way to take advantage when she was being gracious. She frowned at him, her usual annoyance snapping back into place. "Which means I won't kick you out of my town, yet. That's as far as my obligation goes."

 His expression compressed into serious lines. "I was an idiot at the hotel."

She pulled in a quick breath. All the feelings she'd worked so hard to box up into manageable packets broke free spewing anger, disappointment, and worse through her heart. She struggled to form the mess into coherent words.  

"I made the mistake," she said, her voice catching. "I'm sorry, too."

"You were amazing."

Evidence argued otherwise.

Hurt knotted in her throat. The dark cloud of insecurity his reaction had put on her that day settled over her. "You...ran away, Trey." Tears pooled in her eyes and she blinked them back, angry with herself for caring enough to be wounded by his rejection.

 "Of course I did." He pushed away from the wall.

She looked at him appalled at his callous admission. "Why?"

Stepping up to her, he traced a finger down her cheek, his gaze softening. "You scare the hell out of me that's why."

"If that's supposed to make me feel better it fails." She sniffed.

Trey cupped her face in his hands. His heat seeped into her as he drew closer. The soft cotton of his T-shirt over the solid muscles of his chest brushed her beasts and a tingle ran through her body.

"I don't understand this enough to explain it any better," he said, his voice low and husky. "I don't know why I want to protect you. Why I'm afraid to touch you. Or why I can't stop wanting to."

He kissed her and she couldn't bring herself to push him away. Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him into her, letting her passion flow through her blood like music. She opened her mouth to his questing tongue, sighing when he finally pulled out of the kiss.

His eyes, smoky with desire, swept over her face. "We come from different worlds. This really is impossible."

He was right. They were from different worlds. In his the superficial was king. In hers character ruled. 

She reluctantly stepped out of his arms, her heart beating loudly in her ears. Despite everything she wanted him. There wasn't love, there wasn't even friendship. And still she wanted him. Had she really become so shallow or was there more to it than that?

Did some part of her sense depths to him that he kept carefully hidden? Or was he really the man he appeared to be--a man who used and discarded people for his own purpose without a second thought? 

A man like her father.

"Why did you agree to do this job?" Dakota asked, softly.

Pulling in a deep breath, his focus shifted beyond her to things only he could see. "He has something I need. So I agreed to get something he needs."

"Some
thing
." She swallowed, her pain deepening. "Dad would see me that way."

His attention came back to her. "He can't sell the Dakota Nights line without you."

She remembered how successful the leather lingerie line became after the tape of her and Jack hit the internet. Disbelief pushed through the ache in her chest. "I thought Dakota Nights was a big money maker for Jamison Enterprises. Why would he sell it?" 

"I don't know."

"And why drag me into it?"

Something flickered across Treys' face. Guilt? Disapproval? "To the public, you are the line. His buyer won't sign unless you come with it." 

 "Like a prize mare."

He tensed. "Like a valuable company asset."

"Which is still a thing, not a person." She crossed her arms, hoping to contain her rising anger. This wasn't about Trey. Not really. It was about her relationship with her father. If you could call it a relationship. "I won't be used by him anymore, Trey. Going back to that world is like saying I'm okay with being treated as a chess piece. I'm not okay with that."

Trey stared down at her for a moment, his green eyes shadowed with secrets. "I promised I wouldn't force you back, Dakota, and I won't. But I'm also not giving up. You could do a lot of good in that world if you wanted to. More good than you can do here selling cinnamon rolls and soup."

Indignation spiraled up inside her. "You condescending jerk," she sputtered. "Doing good doesn't only mean grand gestures and large donations. It can also mean giving a job to someone who's disabled. Cooking for a homeless shelter. Taking food to a single mom and her kids when she's twisted her ankle and has to stay in bed for three days."

Dakota took a deep breath, her resentment deepening as she remembered the years under her father's regime. "Being a good person does not entail playing the whore for clients to soften them up for the kill."

An angry line cut between the two dark slashes of his eyebrows. "You mean like what I do?" 

"Yes." 

The simple, razor-sharp word hung between them. 

Trey stepped closer, crowding her, radiating fury. She held her ground, determined to discover how much of him was front and how much was real.

Even as they scowled at each other, the familiar stirring of sexual awareness flared between them, mixing with the antagonism.

A muscle flexed along his jaw. "If you're pregnant you know where to find me." He strode past her and disappeared around the corner of the building.

*  *  *

Trey crushed the note from Dakota that the morning desk clerk had just handed him in his fist.
I was right
, had been scrawled across it. What kind of a message was that? 

"Thanks," he said to the clerk as he jammed the note into his pocket. Crossing the lobby, he shoved the door open and stepped out into the wind-swept tundra of the nearly empty hotel parking lot.

Was she saying she was right, that she wasn't pregnant? Or was she telling him she was right about him being a whore for Jamison? Irritation dug between his shoulders. Hell, as mad as she was at him most of the time, she might have come up with some other dig he couldn't fathom. Either way, he had to be sure. 

He'd never had such a hard time talking someone into doing what he wanted them to do.

The woman was incomprehensible and a complete aggravation. If he wasn't desperate to knock loose a break on his sister's case, he would have packed his bags days ago. Being around Dakota was like getting hit by a cyclone. An unmitigated disaster and you never knew which end was up. 

Money hadn't worked. Reminding her of the luxury she'd given up had backfired. She hadn't even negotiated a good deal for herself when he told her Jamison desperately needed her back. Instead, she'd given him a puritan-like lecture about what it meant to be a good person.

He was not Jamison's boy, or anyone else's, he told himself angrily. All jobs had aspects to them that were less than palatable. It was the price you paid for security. 

If Dakota wanted to throw a life of ease and luxury away for principles and a marginal existence in a dying town, that was her choice. It sure as hell wasn't his and he didn't see how that made him a bad person.

There were plenty of personal actions he'd taken that could qualify him as that. One of them had resulted in a cryptic note that needed an explanation.

He was about to get into his Jag to head for Dakota's restaurant when his cell phone rang. He put the device to his ear, impatience riding him. "Trey here."

"Saw the picture on the news," a low, rough voice said.

Trey's muscles tensed. "Mr. Jamison."

"Why isn't she standing in my office right now, Peters?" 

Trey ignored the hard edge in the older man's voice. "She still needs some convincing."

"My buyer's getting impatient." 

"It's a delicate situation." 

Jamison pulled in a deep breath. "Tell me where she is. I'll get her home."

Intense dislike for his boss swept over Trey. He reflexively ground down on the feelings and focused on staying calm. "Sic your battalion of lawyers and security people on her and she'll run. Are you willing to risk another five months to find her?"

"Are you threatening me, Peters?"

"Just stating facts."

"I've released another fifty K into your account," Jamison said, switching tracks smoothly back to his power base. "Get her something nice. Tell her it's from me and that I miss her."

"Do you?"

"What do you think?"

Trey thought he was a cold-hearted bastard, but he kept his opinion to himself.

"Make this happen," Jamison continued. "I'm having lunch with the governor in two weeks. You wouldn't want to blow that opportunity, would you?" The line disconnected.

The need to have the report on his sister filled Trey with a powerless anger. He squeezed his phone, wishing it were Jamison's neck.

He wondered if Jamison was actually going to keep his end of their bargain or if he'd hold Trey's desperate need to find Rosie over his head, using it to get what he wanted for as long as he could. All because Trey was willing to do anything to find her. 

A taint of dishonor slid over his soul like a fine coating of garbage. He'd done a lot of things he wasn't proud of, some for worse reasons, most for better.

His motivations were always justified--survival, protecting those he loved, building the resources he needed to find his family. He shouldn't regret them. He didn't.

But was he willing to lure Dakota back into the hell from which she'd run? A hell they should all be so luck to have. His throat tightened. But for her,
was
the security of wealth and luxury too poor a reward for the misery of living under a tyrant's rule?

His conscience pricked him, but he pushed it away. He had to do whatever it took to get the job done. When you lived in the real world, sometimes you got your hands dirty.

You didn't have to like it.

A muffled pop jolted him from his thoughts. Opening his hand, Trey stared in bemusement at the cracked phone lying in his palm. 

His stomach turned cold as the truth seeped into his awareness.

 He was losing control. Control of Jamison, the situation, himself...

And his feelings for Dakota. 

*  *  *

There had to be a way to get Trey out of Harts Creek for good, Dakota concluded. He was on her mind entirely too much.

Balancing her groceries on one hip, Dakota unlocked the foyer door to her apartment building, glad to be home. 

Weariness sat on her shoulders like a ton of rocks. It seemed half the town was reporting to her on the progress of Mr. Lambert as he traveled around interviewing people. The other half was trooping through speculating on how Trey had "rescued" her, or lamenting the fact that he was two-timing her with the Jamison heiress--an irony that would be cracking her up if she didn't feel so guilty about the added deception.