by Judy Teel
"You're hot." She tossed her jeans behind her, the sparkle of humor heating into something else entirely.
Trey backed away from her. "No. Stay back."
"Very sexy." She advanced on him.
"I mean it, Dakota."
She slipped her T-shirt off over her head. Her bra clung precariously to the firm globes of her breasts. An ache expanded low in his groin and his traitorous erection swelled.
"I can see the bulge in your jeans, Trey. I know you want me."
"That doesn't mean I have to act on it."
"Doesn't it?" she purred.
She took another step toward him. He took one back, never taking his eyes off her. He remembered how she'd pounced on him before and he knew he couldn't resist if it happened again. "I don't have any condoms here."
"There're other things we can do."
Sweat broke out across his forehead. Like he'd be able to stop himself if they did 'other things.' Was the woman nuts? "Not this time."
"I don't believe you really mean that."
Trey glanced behind him. He was running out of room. If she got within touching distance he knew he was lost.
Sometimes retreat was the better part of valor. She pounced and Trey dodged left and then jumped right, straight into the bathroom.
Slamming the door shut, he locked it and pressed his forehead against the cool wood. Dread settled into him.
He'd been with some of the sexiest most beautiful women in the world. Models. Actresses. Even a princess once. He'd never lost control enough to forget a condom. Never.
He rolled over and scrubbed his hand along his jaw. This was bad, really bad.
And what if Dakota was wrong? What if he'd gotten her pregnant?
He wasn't ready for something like that. He didn't have what it took to be a father. Not the kind a kid deserved.
Even if she were right and everything was okay, what about the next time? What if he lost control again?
He'd never lost control.
He pulled in a deep breath and forced his anxiety down. He could handle this. He'd think of something. He always did.
One thing was certain, hiding in the bathroom all day wasn't the answer. Dakota deserved better treatment than that. She also deserved some kind of explanation, although damned if he knew what it was.
Trey took another deep breath and unlocked the bathroom door, bracing himself for the words that had to be said.
"Dakota, we need to talk." He stepped into the room and looked around, a new alarm sweeping through him.
She was gone.
* * *
Dakota slammed the door of her Volkswagen and stomped to the back entrance of her restaurant. She flipped on the light in the kitchen as she came in, feeling none of her usual comfort and pride as the fluorescent bulbs revealed the stark cleanliness of the work area.
Blasted man! Giving her the best sex of her life and then turning all noble on her. Hiding in the bathroom like a damned virgin on her wedding night. Whoever heard of such a thing? From a man like that? It was insulting!
She needed to bake something.
Dakota tossed her coat and purse onto a stool in the corner. How dare he leave her standing in the middle of his hotel room in her underwear feeling like an idiot. Fury boiled through her.
If he wanted to cool her lust for him, he'd found a dandy way to do it, she'd give him that!
Banging through her well-organized baking area she got out the ingredients she needed for a half dozen pies. A hard lump tightened her throat.
She swallowed it down. What had she expected? Romantic confessions of undying love? Please. Trey was what he was and...
No. If he was what he was then she'd still be in his hotel room working her way to barely being able to walk. That's how the day and night should have ended. Not with him locking himself in the freakin' bathroom!
Dakota angrily measured flour into the mixing bowl. She'd gone to that man's hotel room expecting to start a glorious fling with a skilled lover. She had not bargained for...for...
She pinched the bridge of her nose as tears welled up in her eyes. She was a dope to moon around over him. Worse than a dope. A pathetic dope.
She didn't have time for this kind of ridiculous drama. She had work to do. Work that she cared about for people who meant something to her.
Screw Trey Peters and every guy like him. If you could keep them from bolting long enough to accomplish it!
Yanking open the cutlery draw, Dakota grabbed her butcher knife. One thing was certain. The damn man was going to get exactly what he deserved.
With one solid strike, she chopped the five-pound block of butter in half.
She never wanted him to touch her again.
* * *
Trey couldn't believe he'd made such a blunder. Never allow yourself to become personally involved was one of the first rules of negotiation. It took your edge off. Blinded you to weaknesses that could be profitably exploited. Made you slip up and reveal things that should never be revealed.
Made you worry that you might have gotten a girl pregnant.
For twenty-four hours he'd stayed away and tried to focus on business so he could forget what had happened. In that record short time, he'd blundered a deal, upset a client, and overlooked a chance to negotiate a better price for opals. Things couldn't get any worse.
Then he walked into Hearth and Home.
A room full of eyes landed on him as the door swung closed on the biting cold that seemed to have sprung up in the town overnight. As he made his way to an empty table, Trey pretended not to notice while he mentally revised his opinion of the weather.
It was a lot warmer than the atmosphere in the bistro.
A thin, worn-out looking woman shuffled up to his table with an order pad. She gave him a frosty look up and down.
Trey glanced at her name tag and then flashed her one of his sure-to-charm smiles. To his amazement, her expression grew even more frigid. He soldiered on. "Hi Marty, I need to speak with Dakota."
"She's busy." She tapped the tip of her pencil on the order pad. "What do you want?"
He tried to comprehend the hostility radiating off of her. They'd only just met. Why would she be angry with him?
Trey cleared his throat. "Coffee and a cinnamon roll. Please."
"We're out of coffee. And rolls."
Impatience itched along his skin. "I can see the full pot from here."
"Maybe you should leave." She turned around and limped to another table where two stout older women had just settled themselves.
Marty glanced back at him and then leaned in over the table. They all started clucking away, every now and then throwing disapproving looks at him.
After a moment the waitress clomped to the drink station behind the counter, returning with mugs of coffee for the ladies.
What was going on?
He was just about to get up and raise some hell when Chelsea sailed in. And made a beeline straight for his table.
Her eyes blazed with indignation. "How could you?"
Trey did his best to hold in his temper, but it was a near thing. "Has everybody lost their minds in this town?"
"Lost our minds?" Chelsea hissed. "You're about to lose your--" She sputtered like an angry cat and then dug around in the suitcase she carried for a purse. After a moment, she whipped out a stack of printouts from various web pages. She tossed the pile down on the table in front of him.
Splashed across the top page was a big color shot of Dakota in her blonde bombshell disguise standing behind him as he confronted the reporters that had jumped them the other night.
Above the photo the headline declared: Missing Jamison Heiress Sighted!
His stomach took an unpleasant dive like he'd just dropped thirteen floors in a fast elevator. If anyone recognized Dakota she'd never forgive him. Things were bad, but he still held some hope they could be salvaged. If her cover was blown, he didn't stand a chance.
"So?" A lifetime of practice was the only
thing that enabled him to sound completely unconcerned as his mind spun through how to fix this new disaster.
"Do you deny that's you?" Chelsea asked.
Trey pushed the pages away from him. "Why should I?"
"It was taken Sunday night. When you were supposed to be on a nice quiet date with Dakota."
"She wanted me to take her home early. So I did."
She eyed him for a moment. "You don't say. What if I told you I called her place? And that she wasn't there."
Sprawling back in his chair, Trey gave her a steady look. "She was pretty tired. Maybe she didn't hear you."
"I think you're lying." Chelsea braced her fists on the table and leaned toward him. "What are you really up to?"
He let his gaze touch the photo before meeting her eyes, again. "I went back to the city to tie up some loose ends."
Her eyes narrowed. "What kind of loose ends?"
"The unpleasant kind."
"Unpleasant for who?" she snapped, her gaze flickering to the picture.
"You've never seen Ms. Jamison when she's pissed."
Anger flickered across her face. Chelsea commandeered her printouts and straightened away from the table. He kept his expression neutral while she studied him.
"I don't know what game you're playing, but you should know we're all very fond of Dakota," she said in a tight voice.
"I can see that."
"She deserves happiness."
Behind Chelsea, Trey saw Dakota sweep aside the beaded curtain. Uh, oh. She stormed around the counter a big silver soup ladle gripped in her hand.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Dakota said sharply.
Marty glared at him from across the room, triumph glittering in her eyes. Looked like somebody had tattled on him.
Dakota advanced on his table, murder in her eyes. Trey jumped to his feet and held his hands up, palms out. A bar fight with over-sized Harley guys was starting to look like a Sunday picnic compared to this place.
"Tell you what?" he asked, sliding a step closer to the door.
Dakota grabbed the top story out of Chelsea's hand and shook it at him. "You're dating the Jamison heiress, aren't you?"
"Um..." That's exactly what he'd been going for, only now he wasn't sure it was one of his better ideas.
He glanced at the soup ladle, ready to grab it if she came at him. Instead Dakota shoved the article in his face. A look of urgency flashed across her expression. He barely suppressed his sudden surge of pride--she was going for the same cover story. That's my girl.
"You could have told me, Trey," she said, stepping closer to him. She gave him a pointed look.
"I'm sorry, Dakota. I should have." He put a hint of regret in his voice.
"Are you seeing both of us like everyone thinks?" she asked, emphasizing the last half of her sentence.
"It's not like that." He lowered his voice slightly, but not so much that he couldn't be heard by their audience. "Shouldn't we talk about this in private?"
She planted her fists on her hips, the article sticking out on one side, the ladle angled out on the other like a musketeer's sword. "I'd like to hear what you have to say now."
Unexpectedly, the urge to tell her how sorry he was for overreacting after they made love pushed into his throat. "She wanted to see me while she was in town," he said, instead.
"How convenient."
Trey locked his gaze on hers, willing her to understand what he was trying to say to her. "She caught me by surprise." I wasn't expecting to lose control with you.
Her mouth pinched down and her eyes looked troubled. "Maybe she just wanted a little fun."
"And I spoiled it for her," he said. I've never lost control before.
Dropping her gaze, she stared at the top button on his shirt. "She asked you. She should have known what was coming." Dakota raised her chin, the defiance back in her eyes. She tossed the printout onto the table. "I never asked you for an exclusive, Trey, but I would appreciate a little honesty."
"Maybe I could have a second chance?"
"You'd have to ask her."
"I'm asking you."
Her eyes widened, softening with vulnerability for a moment, and then it was gone. She pointed the ladle at him. "How can I trust you?"
Someone cleared their throat behind Trey. "Ms. Johnson, do you always threaten your customers like this? I must inform you that the AENC frowns on such behavior. Minus ten points, unless you have a good explanation for this unprofessional display."
CHAPTER NINE
Dakota's mouth fell open and her stomach dropped. With a quick jerk of movement, she hid the ladle behind her back.
In the doorway stood a slightly built man who looked to be in his late thirties. A tag on his navy blue sport coat labeled him George Lambert, AENC Finalist Investigator. His pale blue eyes studied her with disapproval.
The Inspector she'd been waiting for had arrived.
Sweat trickled down her temple and her mouth went dry. How was she going to get out of this one?
Trey turned around, his dimples flashing as he smiled broadly at the AENC Investigator. He held out his hand. "Trey Peters. This is very embarrassing."
Mr. Lambert shook his hand, his expression still edged with disapproval. "I apologize for disconcerting you, Mr. Peters. If you don't mind, I would like to get your testimony for my report."
"No, no. This is nothing like that. You've caught us running through some lines from the play I'm writing for the local theatre group. Ms. Johnson was kind enough to help me. To get that realistic feel I'm going for."
Astonishment momentarily off-lined Dakota's thoughts. She stared at Trey.
"Isn't that right, Ms. Johnson?" he asked. He tossed her a pointed look, much as she had done just moments ago.
She snapped her mouth closed and swallowed. "Um, yes, of course. That is right...ah, correct. Mr. Peters is somewhat of an amateur playwright. He's hoping the City Council will, um, like the play."
Mr. Lambert frowned. "With all due respect, that is the most preposterous--"
"And so far, we're quite impressed," Mrs. Tilster sang out, signally the waitress for more coffee.
"Indeed," her sister, Mrs. Aster, added from across the table.
The two women gave the inspector the benefit of their unified baleful stares.
He cleared his throat. "You are the City Council?"
"Certainly not." Mrs. Tilster drew herself up, her matronly figure radiating resentment.
"Well then--"
"We are only two members, but we were asked to evaluate Mr. Peter's play. We had some reservations about one particular scene and Dakota kindly volunteered to act it out with him."
Dakota flashed the stalwart ladies a grateful smile. A soft affection curled through her heart at the loyalty of her friends and customers--along with a lump of guilt that she'd been forced to deceive them about so many things.
Mr. Lambert looked Trey up and down, and then shifted his gaze to her. She did her best to look innocent.
His attention pivoted back to Mrs. Tilster. "I would much appreciate your input as I compile my reports, ma'am."
"Certainly. We have nothing to hide in Harts Creek."
Hoo boy. If she only knew.
Dakota felt her face heat and hoped Mr. Lambert wasn't trained to spot shysters and liars. No such luck. The inspector had his beady, cold eyes laser-beamed right on her.
"That's what they all say, my dear lady," he said, stiffly.
* * *
Dakota tore through her kitchen with Trey right behind her and barreled out the back door. Once they were outside, she turned to face him. The inspector had left for his hotel, but he wouldn't be gone long. A lump of anxiety burned under her ribs like bad five-alarm chili.
"I'm getting a headache keeping up with all these lies," she said, pacing away from him and then back.
Trey crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the building. "AENC Inspector. Wow. These guys really take this contest seriously."
; "Writing a play for the community? I can't believe Mrs. T and A backed you up."
"T and A?" His eyebrows rose a fraction. "You're kidding right?"
She frowned at him, confused. That's what everyone called the sisters. "What are you babbling about?"
"Not a thing. And it wasn't me they were backing up. I'm still in the dog house for going out with the Jamison heiress, remember? They were backing you up."
Really? A feeling of comfort brushed lightly through her. Trey had stuck up for her, too, though his motivations were probably not as pure. Even so, she couldn't help hoping he was starting to see her as more than just another job.
She stopped pacing. "Thanks for saving me on that one."
"Can't let a little thing like an inspector blow your cover. You might run."
She tried not to sigh. Hope was overrated. "I still owe you for it."
His eyes, a sparkling moss green in the late morning light, sharpened. "I like the sound of that."
Just like Trey to see a way to take advantage when she was being gracious. She frowned at him, her usual annoyance snapping back into place. "Which means I won't kick you out of my town, yet. That's as far as my obligation goes."
His expression compressed into serious lines. "I was an idiot at the hotel."
She pulled in a quick breath. All the feelings she'd worked so hard to box up into manageable packets broke free spewing anger, disappointment, and worse through her heart. She struggled to form the mess into coherent words.
"I made the mistake," she said, her voice catching. "I'm sorry, too."
"You were amazing."
Evidence argued otherwise.
Hurt knotted in her throat. The dark cloud of insecurity his reaction had put on her that day settled over her. "You...ran away, Trey." Tears pooled in her eyes and she blinked them back, angry with herself for caring enough to be wounded by his rejection.
"Of course I did." He pushed away from the wall.
She looked at him appalled at his callous admission. "Why?"
Stepping up to her, he traced a finger down her cheek, his gaze softening. "You scare the hell out of me that's why."
"If that's supposed to make me feel better it fails." She sniffed.
Trey cupped her face in his hands. His heat seeped into her as he drew closer. The soft cotton of his T-shirt over the solid muscles of his chest brushed her beasts and a tingle ran through her body.
