Hot Target by Lisa Renee Jones
Katie believed in being direct and honest. She liked that Luke was direct, as well. And she was beginning to think she liked him, too.
Feeling more than a little mesmerized by his gray eyes and nearness, she said, “All right, then. We should start working on our cover story. You know. The entire dating thing. How we met. Where we met. We should learn a few things about each other so we display convincing intimacy. Your season starts in less than a week, which thankfully is a home game. I’ll want to be in the bleachers, and getting close to those close to you, so I can look for trouble.”
“First things first,” he said. “How do you like your eggs?” His eyes twinkled, his voice taking on a sensual play on words as he added, “Because I don’t know about you, but something about all this being close stuff has me starving.”
Katie’s thighs clenched on that final word, and the implication that he was starving for more than eggs. He was starving for her. And damn it, she was starving for him. He moved to the refrigerator, and a breath escaped her lips.
Every time she brought up his security issues, he turned up the heat. Luke wasn’t the only one in danger. Because she was beginning to forget why getting involved with Luke, why taking an undercover lover straight to the bedroom, was a bad thing.
AN HOUR LATER, Katie sat at the bar across from Luke, her plate pushed aside, having been lured into a game of twenty questions on the pretense of playing the roles of boyfriend and girlfriend around his team. “A Dairy Queen Blizzard, you say.” She repeated the name of his favorite ice cream treat.
He gave a decisive nod. “The best soft serve on the planet, with whatever topping you like,” he said. “I prefer the chocolate-chip cookie dough.”
“Dairy Queen,” she repeated, crinkling her nose. “Is there a Dairy King?”
He chuckled. “Not that I know of. I’ll take you to meet the Queen during the Texas series.”
“If I’m still around when that time comes,” she said softly, suddenly hating the fact that doing her job well meant she wouldn’t be. How had she gone from damn near kneeing this man in the groin to hoping to be eating ice cream in Texas with him?
“The Texas series is coming up soon,” came a male voice. “Of course you’ll be around.”
Katie and Luke turned at the sound of Ron’s voice, finding Maria standing in the doorway beside him. He was dressed in a well-fitted black suit and tie, ready for the office.
“I came by to check on you two,” Maria said, “and let him in.” She glanced at the stove, where butter had spattered and been left. Crumbs decorated the counter, several jars of different jellies open beside them. “Oh, my, I hate when he cooks. He makes such a mess.”
Ron’s gaze flickered from Luke’s to Katie’s and then to Maria. He motioned them to the other room. A few seconds later, they all stood in an office, a mahogany desk as the centerpiece, surrounded by walls of sports memorabilia. Katie sat in front of the desk in a cushy leather chair. Luke sat behind it. Ron stood at one end of it, resting on the surface.
“All of Luke’s mail is routed to a P.O. box,” Ron said. “I picked up yesterday’s on my way to work this morning.” He opened a file and held up a clear bag full of a half-dozen envelopes. “I didn’t open the latest one. It’s the same plain envelope with no return address, stamped from another different location.”
Katie glanced at Luke, who had leaned back in his chair. He shrugged, unaffected. She didn’t know how he could be so nonchalant, but it appeared genuine. He really didn’t feel threatened. She reached for the bag. The other five letters had all been created with cutouts from newspapers and magazines—each letter promising that Luke would die soon. She pursed her lips. “As much as I’d like to know what this new letter says, I’m sure I can guess.” She fixed Luke in a hard stare, aware he wouldn’t be pleased with the subject she was about to broach. “We need to get the letters examined by a crime lab.”
“No police,” Luke insisted. “I don’t need my private life sold to the highest bidder and plastered all over the news. The entire season will become a story about my stalker instead of how the team’s playing.”
“Luke,” she said. “I understand the press concerns. I understand your need to avoid being the newest gossip headline. I’ll make sure it doesn’t end up there. My men—Noah and Josh—when they get here Saturday—”
Ron interrupted, “I thought they were coming in today?”
“They were,” she said. “But we took this job on short notice, and they have loose ends to tie up before they can get here. Which is unfortunate, because I really want Luke’s security here at the house to be scrutinized, and Josh is an expert in that area.” She turned back to Luke. “Noah is ex-FBI, Luke. He has a guy inside the FBI lab who will run the tests needed on the letters, no questions asked. No names. I promise. Let me have him make that connection for us.”
She held her breath, hoping he would agree, knowing she was sending the letters to be reviewed even if he objected. No doubt Luke wanted the threats easily dismissed as nothing. But her father had always said, never ignore a gut feeling, and she had a gut feeling.
“You’re sure?” Luke asked. “The lab won’t ever know I’m involved?”
She nodded. “Absolutely one hundred percent sure.” She glanced at Ron.
“All right, then,” Luke said. “Send the letters. I’m in for anything that might end this ridiculous mess.”
Katie let out a breath of relief and vowed to dig deeper with Luke. There was something behind his absolute dismissal of these threats that didn’t make sense. She’d come full circle, it seemed. She wasn’t bailing on Luke. She was seeing this through.
“Okay,” Katie said. “We’ll get the analysis done and hope for answers. In the meantime, your first game isn’t until next week, and I looked at the schedule. We have six home games before you head to Texas, which is when the traveling makes the whole undercover thing almost impossible to pull off with my men. It’ll have to be me traveling with you and me alone.”
“My parents expect to see me when I’m in Texas,” Luke said. “Either I’ll have to tell them who you are or we’ll have to convince them we’re dating.”
“Maybe Texas won’t be an issue,” Katie said. The idea of meeting his parents reminded her of how sleeping with Luke would complicate a situation already complicated enough. “The minute my staff arrives, we’ll work fast. Maybe we can unearth your letter writer before the travel begins. The best strategy to keep you safe will be to turn this place into Fort Knox and lay low here as much as possible.”
“Laying low has never been an issue for me,” Luke assured her. “Right after tonight’s gala at the Children’s Museum.”
“What gala?” Katie queried. She eyed Ron. “I really need a detailed file.”
“I have it,” Ron said, indicating a manila folder.
“The gala is a charity event for children’s leukemia,” Luke answered. “I have to be there.”
“While I respect that this is a charity event,” Katie said, “anything high profile is a bad idea until we get your security revamped.”
“He’s the emcee,” Ron said. “He can’t skip it. Besides, it’s good for his reputation. That means endorsements and financial security we don’t want to miss.”
Luke’s forehead furrowed. “This isn’t about endorsements,” he insisted. “It’s about the kids.” His gaze flicked to Katie. “Consider it your coming-out party. The unveiling of the woman I’m dating. In fact, I need to go pick up my tuxedo.” He pushed to his feet, rounded the desk and offered her his hand. “Care to join me?”
Katie ignored his hand, more than a little aware of Ron watching them. “You’re sure you can’t skip this?”
“Positive,” he said. “And neither can you. You’re my date.”
He hadn’t known she was coming until yesterday. He’d been planning on going stag. Why did that please her so much?
Luke glanced at Ron. “Anything else we need to know?”
“J
“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.”
The intimacy that came so easily between them rattled Katie. It was something she’d never experienced with a man. Maybe it was his Southern, good-guy charm that Ron had sworn existed, hidden in their first encounter but flourishing now.
Whatever it was, it was warming her inside and out. Impairing her ability to think straight and do her job. She should be scanning for trouble, not staring into those silvery-gray eyes of his. “I like the dress,” she managed, though even to her own ears her voice was low, affected.
He reached up and brushed her hair over her shoulder. “You’re sure?”
His touch was electric, fire on her skin. Goose bumps lifted on her neck. Oh, man. Why couldn’t he have kept up that jerk routine. It really would have made this assignment easier if she hated him. Because she didn’t hate him anymore. She really did not hate him. “Yes,” she said. “I’m sure.”
He paused, as if assessing her sincerity, and then said, “Good, then let’s seal the deal and make it ours.” He reached for the dress.
Katie frowned and moved away, pulling the dress out of reach. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to pay for it.”
“Oh, no,” she said quickly. “You are not buying my dress.”
Surprise flashed in his face before his jaw set. “You need it because of my party. I’m buying it.”
She tried to step around him. “I don’t need you to buy me a dress.” It made her feel for sale. It made her feel…bad.
He maneuvered in front of her. “Katie. I’m buying the dress.”
“No. You are not.”
He grimaced. “You wouldn’t need this dress if not for my function tonight. Technically, isn’t it a work expense?”
That idea ground along her nerve endings like sandpaper on wood. Right. Work. Not a date. Not that she’d ever thought it was. Not that she wanted it to be. She shoved the dress at him more abruptly than intended and responded in a tone more agitated than intended. “Fine. You can buy the dress. I’ll be at the front of the store waiting.”
She got a glimpse of his confused face but didn’t stay for a full-on inspection. She rushed away, no idea why she was upset.
A few minutes later, Luke joined her at the doorway. She didn’t look at him, instead scanning the surrounding areas for anything that indicated danger. He held the door for her as she climbed into his Ford Explorer.
Once he was inside, doors shut, he didn’t start the engine. “I’ve decided you’re a very complicated woman. You didn’t want me to buy the dress. Then when I tried to make you feel okay about me buying it, I said something wrong.”
“You didn’t say anything wrong, Luke.” Luke, resting his arm on the steering wheel, turned to study her more closely.
“I’m assuming that translates to mean I didn’t say anything wrong, but I didn’t say anything right, either.”
Katie cut her gaze, staring out of the front window. She didn’t confirm or deny his assessment, though he was right on target. She’d had some sor
The heat of Luke’s inspection sizzled along her skin, and Katie decided a subject change was her best response. “With the shopping behind us, we can get back to work.” She glanced in his direction. “I need to review the data in the file Ron gave us today, including a detailed rundown of your relationships, past and present, good and bad, so I can begin ruling out people close to you being responsible for these letters. Unfortunately, and uncomfortably, that means your ex-girlfriend and ex-manager, as well.” And his present manager, Katie thought. Not that she suspected Ron of anything. He’d hired her after all, but she wasn’t excluding him. The Ron she thought she knew would never have manipulated her and Luke as he had recently.
“Got it,” Luke said. “You changed the subject. Now it’s my turn. I’m changing the subject.” He turned the ignition over. “I have to be in my monkey suit and at the charity event for a photo call at five and it’s already pushing one o’clock. I’d suggest we grab a bite to eat and plan your coming-out party.”
She frowned and reached for his arm, stopping him from putting the truck into gear. Awareness shot through her body; she swallowed hard, pulling her hand back, and tried again. Luckily, she sounded composed. “You aren’t taking these threats seriously,” she accused. “Those letters might seem silly to you, but anyone who goes to enough trouble to cut out words from newspapers and magazines and then mail them off, changing postmarks each time, is meticulous, smart and unstable. That’s a bad combination. So please, don’t ignore these letters.”
His hand dropped from the gearshift as he angled his body toward hers. “I’m not ignoring the letters, just the idea of a real threat behind them. I’m of the opinion someone is trying to rattle my cage—or rather, my game. There’s a lot of ugly jealousy and competition in this sport. Hell, in all sports. We like to pretend it doesn’t exist, but it does.”