She Does Know Jack (8 page)

Amusement
crinkled the corner of his eyes and lifted his mouth. Her pulsed kicked up a
notch at the astonishing transformation.

Dodger.

 “I tell him
that all the time,” he said, unaware of the havoc he caused.

Her gut sounded
the alarm. This laid-back Jack posed more of a threat than the intense one. She
needed to break the connection forming between them before she did something
stupid, like give into the attraction. Again. Cripes, it was tough to fathom
she’d had a one night stand. She didn’t do that. Didn’t have sex with
strangers. No matter how hot. She wasn’t weak. What had she been thinking?

That’s just it.
She hadn’t been thinking. Just feeling. The damn sexy Ranger made her feel a
whole lot of things, but mainly one emotion she’d never experienced. Ever.
Lust. And boy did he bring that out in her. In spades. In copious amounts.
Dangerous amounts. The ache, the fierce need was completely new and freakin’
annoying.

She flicked back
her unruly hair—and matching emotions—then headed across the room. Her mind
functioned much better with distance involved. The man was making himself at
home in her thoughts and it had to stop.

“I can’t believe
someone did this to my things,” she called over her shoulder, striving to
appear as if she left him in order to re-examine her closet. Which actually,
wasn’t a lie. She
did
want another look. Hell, she wanted to get to
work. Needed to get to work.

What was taking
his team so damn long?

Her palm itched
to process the room. It sucked. She had access to the required equipment, but
because of her promise to keep her identity from Jack, she couldn’t do that
part of her job.

With her jaw
clenched in disgust, she entered the closet, then stopped when a splash of
yellow caught her eye. Another note. Alarm reawakened adrenaline and her mind
quickly rewound the previous hour. Had Jack been out of her eyesight long
enough to drop the paper? Possibly. The contestants? Definitely.

“Jack.” She
backed out of the closet and regarded him closely. “I think you’d better come
here.”

Frown creasing
his brow, he jumped to his feet. “What is it? What’s wrong?” His long stride
brought him to her within seconds.

She pointed to
the closet floor.

“Damn! That
wasn’t there before.”

“No. It wasn’t.”

Moving out of
his way, she watched him drop to his knees and use his pen to pick up the
folded note. His actions appeared real and not that of the culprit. But looks
could be deceiving. She held back a smirk. Yeah, deceiving like her, pretending
to be
Little Miss Dance Instructor
.

“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.

W
hat 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 aside. 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.