Hot Target

“I’ll check in with Maria and meet you at the door in five,” Luke said to Katie.

She stood up and gave him an approving look. The instant he left the room, Ron said, “Good to see the two of you getting along better.”

Katie narrowed her gaze on him. “No thanks to you. Why didn’t you tell me his girlfriend and ex-manager tried to embezzle money from him? I mean, under the circumstances, didn’t you think that information was important? As in potential suspects?”

“I planned to tell you,” he said.

“When, Ron?” she demanded, hands on her hips. “A good time to tell me would have been up front, so I was aware of all security risks without hunting them down. Not to mention, you’re his manager and I’m the woman who is supposed to pretend to be his date. The comparison to his past is a parallel in some daunting ways. No wonder the man didn’t want me here.”

“You’ve been here all of twelve hours,” he said. “I’m hardly delinquent in passing along information. It’s in the file I brought you today. Besides, you were already trying to talk yourself out of coming here. I wasn’t giving you his reasons, on top of your own. I knew once he got to know you, he’d trust you the way I do.”

She studied him, shocked at how manipulative he’d been. “Too bad it’s hurt my ability to trust you, Ron,” she said quietly. “Leave the file on the desk. And please send an electronic copy to Donna immediately since I have this gala to attend. We should have been analyzing that data yesterday.”

She turned on her heels and rushed to the door, trying to keep tabs on Luke. She charged toward the foyer, rounding a corner and rushing up the stairs. She grabbed her purse, double-checked that her gun had ammo and then headed out the bedroom door, running smack into Luke.

His hands came out to steady her. “Easy, now,” he said, his strong hands resting on her arms. “Everything okay?”

“As okay as it can be considering you are stubbornly going to this gala tonight,” she said, deflecting away from her conflict with Ron. “You mean we are going to this gala,” he said. “For the kids. You have a dress to wear?”

“Dress?” She felt the blood drain from her face. “No. I don’t have a dress.”

He pulled her close, surprising her as his lips caressed hers, heat flooding her limbs. “We need to find you one, then,” he said. “I’m assuming you need something to hide all your secret weapons. Guns. Knives. Whatever a private security person playing the girlfriend uses to get her man. You do intend to get your man, don’t you?”

Katie told herself to push him away. Ron was downstairs, and playing girlfriend didn’t mean having hot sex with the client. Though, right now, hot sex with the client sounded pretty darn good. Oh, good grief, she had to get a grip.

“I’m not flirting with you, Luke,” she said, shoving at his chest. It was hard, warm, sexy. She was conflicted, aroused and in trouble.

He laughed, his eyes alive with mischief. “But you want to and that’s a good start. We’ll work on the follow-through while we find you that dress.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him, but there was no question he was the one in pursuit.

She decided right then and there she’d need to readdress the boundaries between them. He could not seduce her into dismissing her duty, and she suspected that was his plan.

He needed to be clear on one thing—she would not be distracted by sex. But as the warm heat of his hand over hers slid up her arms, she conceded she might have to allow herself a private fantasy or two. But then Luke didn’t have to know that little detail.

5

KATIE CAME OUT of the dressing room of the swanky clothing store to find Luke sitting in the chair outside the door. His gaze swept her jeans-clad body with intimate perusal before lifting to her face. “I thought I was helping you pick your dress.”

She motioned to the black chiffon number in her hand that hit right above the knee, with sequins on the straps that wrapped around her neck. “I already picked.”

“You only tried on three dresses,” he said. “I thought you women normally had to try on twenty or thirty to find ‘the one.’”

Katie glanced toward the fifty-something store attendant, who was helping another customer. “This is business. I needed a dress. I found a dress.” And, boy, had she gotten lucky. Normally, she could try on twenty or thirty dresses to find a good one. “We need to get back to your place and recap our cover story.”

He studied her, making no move to get up from the chair before finally standing and stepping close to her. “I know it’s business and all, Katie,” he said, “but you might as well enjoy the night.” His voice softened, tenderness caressing its depths. “Get a dress you like.”