He kissed his way down her throat, toying with the buttons on her silky top. Bailey’s eyes were closed, her lips parted. More than anything he wanted to bend her over his desk and take her hard and fast. Lust wrapped his brain in a red haze. His hands trembled as he found his way past her blouse to her breasts covered in lace.
Each soft mound was a full, perfect weight in his hand. He squeezed gently, shuddering when Bailey’s low moan went straight to his gut and stoked the fire. He was rapidly reaching the point of no return. The problem with long bouts of celibacy was that a man tended to go a little insane when the woman he wanted was in touching distance.
“Tell me to stop,” he pleaded.
Her hands tore at the lapels of his jacket. He helped her remove it and tossed it aside. He was burning up from the inside out.
“Touch my skin,” she pleaded.
How could he say no? Each delicate nipple furled tightly as he stroked her with reverence. He lifted her onto the desk. Now he could reach her with his mouth. Shoving aside the gossamer cups of her bra, he first licked her, then suckled her, growing more and more hungry with every second that passed.
Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “Bailey. Bailey...” He didn’t even know what he wanted to say.
“Gil,” her voice was little more than a whisper.
He inhaled sharply, close to begging. “What?”
“I think we have to stop. I don’t want to, but we’re at the club.”
“At the club?” He could barely make sense of the words. He needed to be inside her more than he needed to breathe.
She shoved him, her two hands braced on his shoulders. “Stop, Gil. Please.”
At last her protest penetrated the fog that bound him. He staggered backward, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It hurt to look at her. He leaned against the file cabinet, burying his face in his arm. Agony ripped through him. He had caged the tiger that was his lust for too long, and now the animal was free.
Seconds passed. Minutes. He sucked in great lungfuls of air, desperately trying to regain control. Behind him he heard rustling sounds as Bailey adjusted her clothing.
When her hand touched his back, he jerked. “Don’t,” he groaned. “Not if you want me to leave.”
“I don’t want you to go,” she said quietly. “But for now, you have to. I’m sorry.”
He whirled around. “Sorry for what?”
Her eyes were huge and dark. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“Neither did I. At least not right now.” He had never been as torn as he was at this moment. Everything inside him insisted he lock the door and make her his. But he dared not. Not for her sake, and not with his son in the same building. “We’ll talk...tonight...when Cade is in bed. I’ll call you and we’ll make plans.”
Her gaze searched his. “I’d like that very much.”
Five
Gil didn’t call that night. Bailey took his silence stoically, though deep inside her, a little kernel of excitement shriveled. Clearly, Gil’s second thoughts about getting involved had trumped his momentary sexual need. She could understand his reluctance. He was not free to follow every whim or passing fancy.
In the cold light of reason, he had probably weighed the risks and benefits of getting involved with her and decided it was too risky. It hurt that he hadn’t bothered to call and tell her straight up that he had changed his mind, but perhaps he’d been busy with Cade.
As much as it pained her to admit it, Gil’s about-face was probably for the best. Bailey had her own doubts. She’d never been a rule-breaker, and though it wasn’t technically illegal or even unethical for her to have a personal relationship with Gil, it was at the very least unwise.
She needed to be able to rely on him as a source of information in her investigation. If he ended up in a position of having to defend one of his friends against her accusations, the situation could get ugly fast. No matter how much she responded to Gil physically, it was better for everyone if she ignored the needs of her body and her heart and focused on doing her job.
The following morning, she and Gil met at the club as they had the day before. Only this time, Gil still had Cade in tow. Not by word or expression did Gil evidence any memory of the heated interlude in his office the afternoon before. Bailey didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted, but she guessed he didn’t want to give anything away in front of his son.
Cade bounced up and down in his father’s grasp, finally breaking free long enough to wrap his arms around Bailey’s thighs in an exuberant hug. “Hey, Miss Bailey,” he said. “Are you going to eat lunch with us again?”
Bailey glanced at Gil. The slight negative shake of his head let her know the answer. “I’d love to, Cade, but today I’ll probably just snack at my desk. I have a lot of work to do.”
The disappointment in his big blue eyes filled her with guilt. “I understand.” His body language imploded, leaving him long-faced and dejected.
Gil’s jaw tightened. He removed a key from his pocket and handed it to Bailey. “I have a full schedule today,” he said, the words terse. “Be sure to lock the door whenever you have to step out. I’ll stop by before you go home and retrieve this.”
“Thank you,” she said, her words as stilted as his. As she watched, Gil turned on his heel and led his son toward the entrance to the child care center. Cade looked over his shoulder at Bailey just before they disappeared. She gave him a little wave and smiled, hoping to cheer him up. Truthfully, she liked the little boy, almost as much as she liked his taciturn father.
Feeling unsettled and confused, she made her way to the office and got to work. Today went a little faster, since she had at last decided how to comb through the files in a way that was more organized and less haphazard.
Here and there names popped out at her. Slowly, she began to build a list of men she would like to interview. She wondered if Gil would stonewall her when she suggested it. Every man she flagged had been interviewed in the initial investigation, but with Alex still in the dark, it was imperative that she not miss any links to motive or opportunity.
Her stomach growled loudly midday. Fortunately, she had an apple, a bottle of water and a granola bar in her tote bag. No one was allowed to eat in the club dining room unless he or she was the guest of a member. And since Gil had made it clear that he wasn’t interested in sharing lunch with Bailey, she was on her own.
She could have taken a break and headed over to the Royal Diner. The food was good and the ambiance cheerful, but she wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, much less defend her reasons for spending time at the club. Often, her job made her as popular as an IRS agent.
The day crawled by, but at five o’clock, she was satisfied with the amount of work she had accomplished. She had shut down her laptop and was straightening the various stacks of files she was using when, after a brief knock, someone opened the door.
It wasn’t too difficult to guess the intruder’s identity. Bailey was very proud of her calm, friendly smile. “Hello, Gil. I was just finishing up.” She fished in her pocket. “Here’s the key.”
When he took it from her, their fingers touched. His were warm and slightly calloused. She almost jerked her hand away in reaction, but instead, turned to scoop up her tote bag and purse. “See you tomorrow.” If her voice had been any brighter, she could have powered a lightbulb.
Gil touched her, curling his hand around her forearm. “Stay,” he muttered. “For a minute.”
Her stomach quivered at the unmistakably intimate tone. But she wouldn’t be so easily won over. “No.”
“Please.” His dark eyes were contrite.
“You didn’t call me last night,” she said evenly. “That was rude and uncalled-for.”
He nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“W
hy didn’t you?” She was genuinely curious in the midst of her pique. Gil was standing so close, she could see the tiny flecks of amber that gave light and depth to his night-dark irises.
He stroked her arm, almost absently, with one fingertip. “I couldn’t decide what I wanted to say. You confuse me.” His breath was warm on her cheek.
“Is that good or bad?” To hear that he was as conflicted as she was calmed some of her indignation. Today, he wore a simple button-down oxford shirt in lemon-yellow. The color suited him. As did the neatly creased dress slacks whose precision fit came only from hand-tailoring.
Bailey wished she had worn something more appealing than her usual workaday attire, but an investigative agent on the job had to be prepared for any eventuality. Occasionally, despite the clerical nature of her customary assignments, she had to chase down a bad guy or crouch in a grimy location to do surveillance.
Feminine vanity was useless in her line of work. Unless, like Sandra Bullock, she was ever called upon to pose in a beauty pageant, her chances for wearing seductive clothing on the job were slim.
Gil ignored her pointed question. But judging from the way he looked at her, the answer was definitely good. “Have dinner with me tonight,” he said abruptly. “Cade is spending the evening with my cousin and his wife. I don’t have to pick him up until nine. I’ll take you to Claire’s.”
Claire’s was an upscale restaurant with white linen tablecloths and real silver cutlery, definitely a special-occasion place. Bailey’s heart beat faster at the implications. And because it did, she was determined not to let him see that his invitation rattled her. “As long as I pay for my own meal to avoid any ethical considerations. And besides, are you sure you want to be seen with me in public?” Her tart question was a fair one given his ambivalence.
He winced. “I deserve that. I’ll admit that I still don’t like what you’re up to...a witch hunt that may bring down one of my friends. But I find that my scruples are far less compelling than the taste of your lips.”
Pulling her close, he kissed her gently, lazily. Where yesterday had been frantic and laced with desperation, this contact was infinitely sweet, deeply tender, endlessly erotic. She linked her arms around his neck, sighing when he aligned their bodies perfectly.
As a teenager, she had hated being taller than many of the boys in her class, but now, her height gave her an advantage. She felt the press of his belt buckle against her belly, inhaled the spicy scent of his aftershave. Beneath her fingertips, his hair was silky and smooth.
He held her confidently, like a man who knew his way around a woman’s body. Despite his professed lack of opportunity, his technique was not rusty at all. Against her breast, she felt the steady thud of his heartbeat. Perhaps it was a bit ragged, who could tell? She only knew that this moment had been weeks in the making.
“You’re very persuasive,” she whispered. When his teeth nipped the ticklish spot below her ear, she laid her cheek on his chest.
“Is that a yes?”
“I’ll have to go home and change. I could meet you back here in an hour.” She was staying at McDaniel’s Acres. Though she had no time to indulge in the dude ranch activities offered, her single room in the spacious ranch house was comfortable and more private than a B and B.
Gil tugged her ponytail. “I’ll pick you up.”
“It’s not necessary.”
He stepped back and cupped her face in his big hands. Searching eyes met her reluctant gaze and held it. For one instant, she felt a connection that was more than physical. “Don’t fight me on this, honey,” he said. “No matter how we both might twist and squirm in the wind, we’re caught in this together. Let’s see where it leads us.”
“It won’t lead anywhere,” she said flatly, not sure why she had to remind him of that.
His half smile was laced with self-derision. “But we might have fun along the way, right?”
She wasn’t armed against the charm of a man whose masculinity was as potent as hundred-proof whiskey. He had made an indelible impression on her the first time they met, and nothing had changed in that regard. “I suppose I have to wonder if you’ll stand me up,” she muttered. “Considering I waited by the phone last night like a silly schoolgirl.”
With his thumb, he traced the curve of her ear, a newly discovered erogenous zone. “I’ll make it up to you.” Suddenly, he was kissing her again. Any sweetness that had lingered on their lips was instantly vaporized by a shot of pure fire. She felt it from her breasts to her pelvis, a tingling, sizzling vein of sensation.
His arm was hard across her back, his erection thrusting urgently against her lower body. The unapologetic passion he offered her was persuasive. She wanted to melt into him, feeling incredibly alive yet, at the same time, fearful of losing herself.
She pulled away, though it required great resolve. “I’m going now,” she said, the words hushed.
Gil stood, head bowed, and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “I’ll be there at six-thirty. Don’t make me wait.”
* * *
He shuddered when the door closed behind her. Bailey had no idea how tenuous his control was around her. Perhaps she imagined that her drab clothing could disguise the appeal of her body, but she was wrong. When he held her, he felt the strength and softness of her frame. Neither skinny nor overweight, she was the epitome of a healthy young woman. Her required training regimen kept her fit. He liked that. A lot.
And though it only made his physical discomfort worse, he couldn’t help imagining all that energy and flexibility at his disposal in bed. God help him.
When he could leave the room without embarrassing himself, he locked the office and went in search of his son.
Thirty minutes later he dropped Cade off in town and raced back out to the ranch to change clothes. Taking Bailey out tonight would spark gossip, but for once, he didn’t care. Perhaps if word got around that the two of them were an item, no one would look too closely at Bailey’s reasons for spending time at the club.
As he drove out toward Chance McDaniel’s thriving operation, he contemplated the fact that Chance was about the only person he could think of who might have an ax to grind with Alex Santiago. Both men had shown interest in Cara Windsor, but it was Alex who had managed to put an engagement ring on her finger. Since Alex and Chance were very close friends, Chance might have seen the other man’s actions as a betrayal of their friendship.
Gil wasn’t sure what impact Alex’s disappearance and subsequent memory loss had made on Alex’s relationship with Cara, but it couldn’t be easy for a woman to be with a man who didn’t remember her.
As Gil pulled up in front of the impressive ranch house, Chance waved at him from across the corral. It occurred to him that Bailey must be seeing a lot of the handsome, blond cowboy. The lick of jealousy he felt was disconcerting. Chance was his friend. And since Bailey still had not ruled out Chance as a suspect, Alex was relatively sure that neither Bailey nor Chance would be inclined to get chummy. With Bailey suspicious and Chance on the defensive, they would likely keep their distance.
Gil’s unsettling thoughts were derailed when Bailey stepped out onto the front porch. His first thought was “Hot damn.” She had worn her hair loose, and it rippled around her shoulders in the evening breeze. Her gaze met his directly, but with a hint of reserve. She still wasn’t sure of him.
The knowledge hurt. He’d been so busy with his self-righteous indignation at being questioned, he hadn’t paused to consider how his truculence would affect Bailey.
He met her halfway up the stairs and held out his hand. “You look beautiful,” he said, wishing there was another word for her vibrant appeal. The black knit, V-necked wrap dress she wore emphasized her narrow waist and curvy breasts. Cap sleeves revealed slender arms.
“Thank you.”
Bailey’s skirt ended sev
eral inches above her knees. For the first time since they met, Gil got a glimpse of her legs. The vision was enough to hog-tie his voice. He decided then and there that it was a crime for such beauty to be covered up by an ugly pantsuit. But on the other hand, at least her mode of dress meant other men weren’t ogling her.
Gil considered himself an evolved, twenty-first-century kind of guy. Yet when it came to Bailey, he was finding himself strangled by impulses that were decidedly Neanderthal. He had no right to be possessive, no right at all. But he couldn’t deny what he was feeling.
Conversation languished on the ride into town. By the time they were seated at Claire’s and looking over the menu, though, he recovered enough to make small talk. “Have you eaten here before?” he asked.
Bailey shook her head with a grin. “No. These prices are a little bit above my per diem meal allowance. But I can splurge occasionally.”
Gil chuckled. “I can recommend the salmon and the beef bourguignonne.”
He barely noticed what he ate. Bailey was enchanting...sweetly serious about her job, and yet she possessed a dry sense of humor that took him off guard at times. He knew they were being watched by curious diners, most of whom knew him well. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was the most enjoyable evening he had spent in a long, long time.
Over coffee and dessert, he decided he had to come clean about the secret he was holding. “Bailey...”
She smiled at him. “Yes?”
“I have a confession to make.”
Some of the sparkle left her expression. “Oh?”
“I heard what you said to Cade. About your father.”
Color flushed her cheeks and then faded away, leaving her pale. “I see.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to embarrass you yesterday.”
“But it’s okay tonight?” The words had a bite to them.
He shrugged. “I need to have honesty between us. It’s important to me. You don’t have to explain, but I am sorry that your childhood was so difficult. I really appreciate what you said to Cade. It was very generous of you.”
Beneath the Stetson Page 5
