Naked Games (Hard to Get 3)

Dean was starting to think the same thing. On all counts.

“Give me a few days. I’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks,” Dean muttered as he grabbed his coat and headed for the door. “I owe you one.”

Jonas snorted. “If Deanna gets wind of this we’ll both be up shit creek.”

Dean cursed under his breath at the thought. His twin wasn’t a pretty sight when she was angry. “Let’s make damn sure she doesn’t find out, then.”

Jonas nodded and shut the door in his face.

It wasn’t until Dean was behind the wheel that he thought of Jonas’s words. You could really fuck this up. Pain shot through his chest when he thought of never seeing Catherine again. Never touching her soft skin, never kissing her awake. Never slipping inside her welcoming body and making slow, sweet love all night long. No, he wouldn’t let that happen. He would talk to Catherine. Grovel if necessary. She’d gotten under his skin, and Dean aimed to keep her there. In the meantime, what was the harm in having Jonas get him some answers? It was peace of mind, nothing more. It would all work out, Dean would make damn sure of it.

It’d been more than two full days since Catherine had seen Dean. She’d avoided his calls, even though it’d been the hardest thing she’d ever done. When he’d stopped by her hotel suite a few times, Catherine hadn’t answered the door. It hadn’t been until she’d spied the pretty bouquet of daisies on the floor outside her room that she’d cried like a baby. Her heart was breaking, which was insane because they’d only spent one night together. She wasn’t supposed to fall for a one-night stand. They barely knew each other, so why did she feel such an overwhelming connection to Dean? It made little sense.

The time she’d spent with Gracie had helped to take her mind off the big jerk. She’d had fun going to the historical museum on Monday. Ohio was swiftly growing on Catherine. So much so that she’d begun to think of living in the Buckeye State. To be closer to Gracie would be wonderful. Unfortunately that would put her closer to Dean as well.

Now it was five o’clock on Tuesday, and Catherine had the evening to herself. She’d killed some time by doing some updates on a few clients’ websites, but she’d finished them too quickly. She still had the evening to herself. She contemplated going down to the hotel spa and getting a massage, maybe a mani-pedi as well. She felt like pampering herself a little. The distraction would do her good, and maybe the massage would loosen up a few of the knots in the back of her neck.

As she reached for the phone to call the front desk, a knock on the door stopped her. Her heartbeat sped up at the thought that it might be Dean. God, she missed him. It wasn’t fair that she could long for a man who saw her as some sort of fraud.

When she rose up on her tiptoes to see through the peephole, she all but swallowed her tongue. Dean stood outside her room, and he had the look of a man who’d had just about enough. His gaze zeroed in on the peephole, right at her, causing Catherine to stagger backward.

“I know you’re in there, Catherine, and this time I’m not leaving.”

His voice was loud enough to have everyone on the floor wondering what was going on. Catherine sighed, knowing she couldn’t avoid him forever. It was time to face the man, once and for all. She took a deep breath and turned the knob. The vision of him sucked all the air out of her lungs. He had on a pair of low-riding jeans, a black pocket T under his Carhartt, and a pair of black work boots. He was carrying a grocery bag in his right hand. Damn it, she could’ve stayed strong if he’d looked like crap. Maybe. As it was, Catherine knew it was only a matter of time before she caved.

On the other hand, she resembled something out of a horror movie. Her hair was piled up in a messy bun on top of her head, and she had on an old pair of jeans that so did not flatter her figure. The worn, baby-blue T-shirt she only ever wore to bed was the icing on the cake. Great, the ball was in his court already.

“It’s about time you stopped hiding from me,” he said as he strode through the door and pulled off his coat. After he tossed it onto the couch along with the bag, he turned and glared at her.

Catherine’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. She closed the door, then took a second to gather her courage. “I wasn’t hiding,” she lied as she turned toward him. “I simply didn’t want to see you. There’s a difference.” She pointed to the computer and decided to use work as an excuse. “Besides, I had some work to tend to.”

He moved closer to her, and Catherine found herself backing up. “You were hiding,” he reiterated, his voice as hard as steel.

Catherine wasn’t about to get into a debate with the man. “I have plans tonight, Dean, so make it fast.”

He grinned. It reminded her of a panther, once it had cornered its prey. “I talked to Wade and Gracie a little bit ago, Catherine,” he said, as

he took another step in her direction. “You don’t have plans with them. They’re on their way out to dinner with one of Wade’s clients.”

Her head shot up in the air. “My plans might not include my sister, but I have them nonetheless.” Okay, she hadn’t actually made the massage appointment yet, but Dean didn’t need to know that.

Dean stopped dead and cocked an eyebrow. “If not them, then who do you have plans with? You haven’t been in Ohio long enough to make friends.”

Was that jealousy she detected in his tone? Hmm, interesting. “I don’t see as how that’s any of your business.”

In two strides, Dean was in front of her, his hands wrapped firmly around her upper arms. “Everything you do is my business, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Who do you have plans with?”

Too late Catherine realized her mistake. Baiting a man like Dean was simply suicidal. He was too possessive and predatory. “No one,” she finally admitted. “I was going to make an appointment with the hotel spa, that’s all.”

He relaxed his hold, but he didn’t release her. “Why wouldn’t you answer my calls?”

She jerked out of his arms, angry that he’d even ask such a ridiculous question. “You can’t guess?”

He cupped her cheek in one calloused palm. “I hurt you.” His voice was low and rough. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Finally they arrived at the crux of the issue. Catherine debated the merits of shutting him down by simply refusing to hear his side of things, but she remembered her conversation with Gracie about giving him a chance to explain. Besides, didn’t she deserve to know the truth? The way Catherine saw it, she had a right to know if the night they’d shared meant anything to him. “Tell me something, Dean, and I want the truth.”