Hands On (3 page)

“That ring you have on your finger, are you married?”

She shoved her hands deeper into her pockets. “I borrowed it from our client.”

“Think she'll lend it to you for another week?”

“Why?”

He looked at the card again. “Do you know how friggin' perfect this is?”

“Why?” she repeated, concern raising her voice.

“Why what?”

“Knock it off, Styles. I want a straight answer.”

“Oh, honey.” He slid an arm around her and smiled. “If we're going to be married, you're gonna have to call me Dalton.”

C
ASSIE SLAPPED
at the nightstand, trying to find the alarm. The buzzer screamed relentlessly, until she finally opened one eye and shut the darn thing off.

She checked the time, blinking twice to clear the foggy blur…two-thirty.

Sunlight streamed through her apartment blinds. Okay, so it was afternoon. She knew that.

Yawning and stretching, she tried to focus on the ceiling. Afternoon naps were a rarity for her, but after two sleepless nights she hadn't had much choice. Especially with her big adventure coming up in…

She glanced at the clock again—two-thirty-two. She groaned and rolled over to the edge of the bed. Dalton was picking her up in an hour and a half, and she hadn't even packed yet. Not that she had to take much—T-shirts, shorts, jeans, maybe one casual dress.

Darn it, but she wished she'd talked to Bask herself and not had to rely on Dalton for information about the week they'd spend at Back to Basics. She'd actually tried calling Bask herself after talking to Dalton, but all she got was a recording.

Dalton Styles. The proverbial tall, dark and handsome, with his sable-brown hair and chocolate-brown
eyes. And sexy as all get-out with that strong chin that needed a shave. And holy cow! What a kisser!

She exhaled and shoved off the bed, thinking about how hot and insistent his mouth had been two days ago. More than one dream about him picking her up and carrying her away had messed with her sleep.

Good thing he annoyed the hell out of her or the next week would be impossible.

She got out the duffel bag she'd used during her college days. After four years of college plus another one in graduate school before she'd called it quits, the bag had taken a beating. Certainly not appropriate luggage for Mrs. Dalton Styles III. Maybe she ought to make him spring for a pricey Louis Vuitton garment bag.

The thought made her smile. Let him try to bury that in his expense account.

She didn't smile for long. The luggage really was a problem. And since she'd been so busy working and hadn't taken many trips, she hadn't needed anything more. But of course, now that she was a full-fledged investigator, she'd probably have more out-of-town assignments.

The idea warmed her. The traveling part, she could honestly do without. She was Texas born and bred, and she liked it here just fine. But that she was actually flying solo now, and not just working as Chet's assistant, forced to play the dumb blonde when it suited his case, made her giddy with excitement.

The phone interrupted her musings and she stared
at it with the oddest combination of dread and disappointment. Was it Dalton? Had plans changed?

After it rang two more times, she snatched it up before the answering machine came on. “Hello?”

“Cassie, it's Jennifer.”

Cassie cringed. She'd left a message for her boss this morning, hoping she wouldn't get it until after Cassie was gone. “Hey, Jen.”

“This message you left me about Marianne's case… I don't think I understand it.”

Cassie sighed. “You probably do. I'm going undercover.”

Jennifer laughed. “What do you mean ‘undercover'?”

That hurt. Of course Jen didn't mean anything. She'd probably laughed because the strange turn of events was so unexpected. Jennifer had confidence in her. She wasn't like Chet or any of the others who overlooked Cassie as another pretty but not-so-bright blonde.

“Yesterday Bask showed up at the bar.”

“Great. Did he pass the test, or what?”

“More like, or what. The Feds are after him.”

“As in FBI?”

“I ran into a federal investigator who's been following Bask. He was afraid I'd blow his investigation so he…” Cassie touched the corner of her mouth. Dalton's kiss still burned on her lips. Stupid. Absolutely crazy to give it a second thought. The man was impossible.

“Cassie, are you there?”

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “He ended up sabotaging my sting.”

“Okay, let's back up. Why is he after Bask?”

“For fraud, basically, except they haven't been able to prove anything yet.”

“It doesn't matter as far as we're concerned. I know Marianne. That he's under suspicion will be enough for her to cut him loose. Her attorney can take it from here. Congratulations! I believe you've just successfully closed your first case.”

“Wait, I—” Words failed her. Her thoughts were in a sudden jumble stewed with panic and disappointment. “It's not that simple. I can't tell Marianne what I know and blow Dalton's case.”

“Dalton? He's the investigator.”

“Frankly, he's a pain in the ass, but I wouldn't feel right messing up his assignment.”

There was a long pause, and then Jennifer said, “You wouldn't have to. Marianne and her attorney can be discrete while divorce papers are filed and this guy wraps up his case.”

Cassie walked with the remote phone to the kitchen for something to drink. Her mouth was suddenly drier than the Sahara. “Except without me, there won't be a case.”

“For goodness sakes, why not?”

“See…this is confidential, okay? No telling Marianne.”

“Of course not.” Jen sounded annoyed.

In the background, the baby started to cry.

“Oops!” Jen cooed something to her daughter. “Cassie, could you hold on a minute?”

“Sure.” Gladly. Saved by little Annie. She needed a minute to organize her thoughts.

She poured herself a glass of water but eyed the bottle of chardonnay she'd had in the fridge for God knew how long. Her nerves were shot and she hadn't even officially started her role as Mrs. Dalton Styles yet.

Why wasn't she dancing a jig at the thought of getting out of this assignment? Thrilled at the thought of being able to tell that pompous ass to find some other patsy to play his wife?

Oh, heck, there were a lot of reasons. How much more anticlimactic could her first case be? However, if she were to help Dalton, wouldn't that be good for the agency? Once Bask was arrested, the local news would surely pick up the story.

Due to her pregnancy, Jennifer had had to turn down business. One of the cases had to do with following and baiting a suspected philanderer. The wife who'd tried to hire the agency had been most unhappy that her case was denied. She'd accused Jen of all sorts of things from being a reverse sexist to an elitist who thought infidelity cases were beneath her.

News of the agency's success would absolve them. And then of course, there was Chet. He'd see that Cassie had done a bang-up job all by herself. When he came crawling to her to work for him again, she'd tell him to kiss off.

“I'm back. Sorry.” Jennifer laughed softly.

Cassie smiled wistfully. Jen loved being a mom and that job always came first. All her detectives knew and respected that about their boss. Cassie wondered if her turn would ever come. Would she have a baby in her arms to coo to and kiss and cuddle?

Sometimes she thought that would never happen. Most of the guys she knew were still in party mode, into the bar-hopping scene, trying to stretch out another year of college so their parents would continue to foot their bills. A few were okay, just young and uncertain about the future, but a lot of them were jerks. Like Dalton Styles.

That wasn't fair. She didn't really know him. But he had manhandled her.

“Cassie, are you there?”

“I was just thinking about how good this is going to look for the agency when we help catch someone the Feds apparently have been after for a long time.”

Silence, and then Jen sighed. “What do you know about this Dalton guy? I assume you saw his identification?”

“Of course. I also checked him out. He was recruited out of college eight years ago. He's earned numerous citations and two commendations for bravery and going beyond the call of duty.”

“Hmm, this seems like an odd case for someone of his caliber to be assigned to.”

Jen was too damn smart. Cassie leaned a hip on the kitchen counter and took a sip of water. She'd decided to skip the part about the reprimands Dalton had received for being a maverick, and for bending the rules
as casually as you'd bend a straw. Jen didn't need to worry.

“It doesn't make sense,” Jen continued. “Bask isn't supposed to be dangerous, is he?”

“No. He's a snake who swindles lonely, vulnerable women out of money, but he has no history of violence.”

“Tell me again about this plan you and Dalton devised.”

“We're going to pretend we're married and go for marriage counseling at Bask's retreat.”

“How will that expose him?” Jen was obviously holding the baby. Gurgling noises came across the line.

“Dalton thinks that Bask sniffs out a weak marriage where the woman would be vulnerable to him, and then manipulates the couple to split them up while getting the wife to become more and more dependent on him.”

“Yeah, okay. I can see that.” Jen paused to whisper something to the baby who was beginning to fuss. “Your message said something about possibly being gone for a week?”

Cassie briefly explained the encounter week, carefully editing out the parts that would put her and Dalton into intimate contact. The more she tried to leave out, the more she realized she was crazy for agreeing to this ruse. Not just crazy, terrified.

She would be stuck out in the middle of nowhere for a week with a man she couldn't stand. A man whose kiss made her want to wrap her legs around his waist and not come up for air for a month.

Oh, God, this was not good.

“Cassie, I'm going to have to call you later. Annie needs to be changed.”

“Sure.” She hung up the phone with a shaky hand, her thoughts already elsewhere. It wasn't too late. She could call Dalton and cancel. He was a resourceful guy. He could make his case without her.

She picked up the phone again and called the Marriott where he was staying, growing impatient when it rang too many times.

She wouldn't let him talk her out of changing her mind. If he thought he could, he had another think coming. When Cassie York made up her mind, that was that.

 

“A
RE YOU SURE
you wrote these directions down correctly?” She stared at the scribble on the pad of Marriott paper. “Or maybe you just can't read your own handwriting.”

“I can read it fine.” Dalton made a U-turn, their third of the afternoon. At this rate they'd be lucky to find the place by dark. “Obviously you don't know a map from a grocery list.”

“That was a very sexist remark.”

“What? Men don't shop?”

Cassie picked up her water bottle and uncapped it. “You can't blame this on me. I wanted to stop at that gas station five miles back to ask for directions. But nooo…you don't need to ask for help. You know exactly where you're going. Ha!”

She tipped the bottle up to her lips, tempting him to
slam on the brakes and watch her get drenched. If she was practicing her role as a wife, she was doing a damn fine job. She hadn't stopped annoying him since they'd left Midland two hours ago.

“Do you want some water?”

He looked over at her. Damn, but she had pretty eyes. “Is that a trick question?”

Her sandy-colored brows dipped in a confused frown.

He was pretty sure she was a natural blonde. He was good at knowing that kind of stuff. “Why are you suddenly being so nice?”

Her confusion turned to surprise. “
Suddenly
being nice? I've been nothing but gracious and patient.”

He laughed.

“I'm serious.”

“You've criticized my driving. Steered us in the wrong direction twice. Took too friggin' long at the convenience store just to irritate me—”

“Right. Everything I do is about you. You have saturated my thoughts. Taking too long in the store had nothing to do with the cash register jamming. It was all part of my master plan to irritate you.”

“And you talk too much. I don't need a dissertation.”

“Screw you. Is that succinct enough?”

He smiled. “When?”

“That is so juvenile. I haven't heard that comeback since junior high.”

“When was that? Last year?”

“Gee, another original.”

He shook his head with disgust. God help the man who ended up marrying her.

“Now, would you like some water, or not?” She reached into the small cooler she'd brought and got out another bottle of water.

“Yeah, I'll have some.”

She surprised him by uncapping it before she handed the bottle to him. “You're welcome.”

“Jeez, give me a chance. I was gonna say thanks.”

“Oh, wait.” She waved a hand excitedly, and he jammed on the brakes. “You're missing the turn again.”

“What the hell are you doing? Don't yell like that.” He took his foot off the brakes. “I thought I was about to hit something.”

“I didn't yell.”

No way was he going to respond. She was a nut, three French fries short of a Happy Meal. “By the way, I didn't miss the turn the first time. You forgot to tell me to turn, if you recall.”

“But you knew where you were going, remember? You didn't need to ask directions.”

He glanced over at her just as she folded her arms across her chest. She had on another one of those scooped neck T-shirts like she wore the other day, only this one was a peach color that matched her jeans.

With her arms crossed as they were, the tops of her breasts plumped up above her neckline. She didn't have a really big chest, but she was nicely rounded and perky. Just enough to make him crazy.

He forced his attention back to the road where it
belonged, but then after a couple of seconds took one more look.

Cassie made a prissy sound. “What are you looking at?”

“I was thinking…maybe we ought to pull over and neck for a while.”