Hands On (5 page)

So why was she so edgy? Even if they were discovered, Dalton was here. He had a lot of experience. He could easily handle any physical confrontation.

Oh, God. Talk about being an airhead.
Dalton
was the problem. No more denying it.

She gave her face another dousing before she dried off. How could she possibly find that aggravating man so sexy? Sure, he had great biceps. With the way his polo shirt hugged his arms, anyone would notice. Just like the fit of his snug jeans. Of course she'd taken note of his great butt. Any red-blooded woman would.

She groaned and threw the towel back on the rack. She'd have to get out both her hairbrush and toothbrush before she went downstairs. For now she combed her fingers through her hair. It hung limp from the humidity but she wasn't trying to impress anyone. She gave it an extra fluff and then opened the door.

Dalton was sprawled out across the bed. Not just on one side, but more in the middle. He grinned and patted the side closest to her. “Great mattress. Come try it out.”

She swallowed. “I'll flip you for it.”

“Cassie…” He drawled her name like a warning.

“Heads you get the bed. Tails you get the floor.”

“Come on, honey.” Before she could respond, he put a silencing finger to his lips, and crooked his other one, beckoning her to come closer.

She hesitated at first, but he looked serious, not like he was baiting her, so she carefully sat on the edge of the mattress. He shook his head and motioned for her to move closer. She inched in, and leaned toward him.

He cupped the back of her neck and drew her close to his face. “I think the room is bugged,” he whispered.

“Are you kidding?” She spoke too loudly and he put a finger to her lips. She had the ridiculous urge to suck it into her mouth, and she tried to move back.

He held her firmly in place. “Come on, honey, just a quickie like the old days. Those people will still be down there.” And then in a voice so low she could barely hear, he said, “Just play along. Anything you have to say they shouldn't hear, you'll have to get real close like this and whisper.”

He'd pushed back her hair, his lips brushing the side of her ear as he spoke. Goose bumps surfaced on her skin. She'd absolutely die if he saw them.

“Where did you see the bugs?”

He cupped her cheek with his slightly roughened palm and guided her closer, until her lips grazed his jaw and she put a hand on his chest for balance. “I couldn't hear you,” he whispered.

“I said, where did you see the bug?”

“Actually, my decoder ring sensed it.”

She blinked. His what? Under her palm, his chest shook with laughter. She bolted upright. “You ass!”

“Cassie, wait.” He grabbed her hand when she tried to get up, and yanked her unceremoniously against him. “I really think the room is bugged. That was stupid and immature of me. I apologize.”

She glared at him. He looked serious again, and he kept his voice at a whisper, but how could she believe him now? How could she afford not to?

“Immature is an understatement.”

“You're right.” He gave her leg a patronizing pat, which only made her angrier.

“Frankly, I don't know if I believe you,” she said, but kept her voice down.

“I don't blame you.” He looked so earnest. “I wish I could take it back.” Of course, he
was
playing a role. He could be acting right now. “Can we discuss this later? Outside, maybe, and err on the side of caution for now?”

He stroked the inside of her wrist, a slow seductive motion that made her lose track of her thoughts. She shifted away, trying to gain some balance, and he released her. “All right. Later. Now what about the bed?”

“It's pretty comfortable.”

She remembered to keep her voice down just in time. “You know what I mean.”

“Why would either of us have to sleep on the floor?”

“I know how we can do this fairly. We'll alternate. You get the bed one night, and I get it the next.”

“This is something else we should discuss later.” He rolled off the bed before she could tell him there was nothing to discuss.

For that he'd get the first night on the floor. “Where are you going?”

“To the john. Okay? And then we'd better get our butts downstairs to happy hour.”

She bit back a pithy remark and slid off the other side of the bed. The bathroom door closed as she entered the closet in search of her cosmetics case. By the time she located it, brushed out her hair and applied some tinted moisturizer to her face, Dalton came out of the bathroom. His hair was slightly damp in front, and a bead of water clung to the cleft in his chin. The horrifying impulse to lick it off had her quickly sidestepping him.

He drew back as if he thought she'd run him down. “Ready I take it?”

“In a minute. I have to brush my teeth.” Now, why did she tell him what she was going to do? It was none of his business. This was impossible. How could she share a room with this man for a week? He was a stranger. A sexy stranger. It was just too weird.

“Okay, but hurry up.”

She didn't say a word. Tempting as it was. She wanted to get the initial meetings over with, as well. The quicker they could get outside for a walk, establish the ground rules, like how he got the floor tonight, and who got the bathroom when.

Maybe she'd just tell him how it was going to be. Why shouldn't she call the shots? He needed her to
close this case. She didn't need him. Like Jen had pointed out, they had all the information they needed to satisfy their client.

She opened the door, ready to tell him like it was.

And she would have done exactly that.

If he weren't naked.

“W
HAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING
?”
Cassie's eyes were so wide Dalton thought she'd hurt herself. Her gaze roamed down his bare chest, to waist level, and then she did an abrupt about-face. “We're supposed to go downstairs.”

“I know.” He slid a white cotton oxford off the hanger. “I'm just changing my shirt. What's the matter with you?”

“This isn't going to work.”

“Hey.” He shrugged into the shirt but didn't bother to button it as he quickly stepped around the armoire and crossed the room. “Careful,” he whispered, taking her by the arms and trying to turn her around to face him.

She wouldn't budge. “Me? You pull a stunt like this and you tell me to be careful.”

“What stunt? Why won't you turn around?”

“Are you decent?”

He frowned, and then looked down at his unbuttoned shirt. “You're kidding, right?”

“How would you like it if I—never mind. Just tell me if you've got your clothes on.”

“Yeah, I have clothes on.” He shook his head. She was a total nut.

Slowly, she turned around, her cautious gaze dropping below his waist. “What were you doing?”

“I told you I was changing my shirt.” He saw the accusation in her eyes and prepared for a preemptive strike.

“But you—”

He slid his arms around her waist and drew her close. “Keep your voice down.”

Her hands landed on his bare chest and her fingers stiffened. “You haven't buttoned your shirt yet.”

“Do it for me.”

“Do it yourself.”

“You're the one who wants the damn thing buttoned.”

At his abrupt tone, her eyes widened. “I'm the one who should be upset. I come out of the bathroom and you don't have anything on. What am I supposed to think?”

At least she kept her voice down. Her gaze roamed his face, and then lingered on his mouth. He wondered if she had any idea how expressive her face was, or that her hand flexed on his chest.

“I still had my pants on. I was only changing my shirt.” He glanced over his shoulder. “The armoire must have blocked your view and you assumed I didn't have anything on. I assure you that I will only be naked in front of you if you want me to be.” He dropped his hands from her waist.

She didn't move, didn't even take her hand off his chest. “I—I'm sorry.”

“No problem. Now, are you gonna button my shirt?”

A small gasp escaped her. She moistened her lips and moved her hand. With her eyes kept lowered she said, “You have a really nice chest.”

That stopped him. He wished he had something clever or witty to say. Nothing came to mind. “Thanks.” He cleared his throat and went for his top button. “That's okay. I'll do it.”

“No.” She stilled his hands and then tugged them away. “I will.”

Hell, when had he lost control of the situation? He sucked in his belly when she dragged her finger down his chest to his waist. She lingered at his belt, tucking the tip of one finger under his buckle.

He lifted his gaze to meet hers, and then fixed on the slight part of her lips, the tongue darting out to moisten them in invitation. He tilted his head to the side to accept her offer.

“Ouch!” He jumped back and put a hand on his belly to soothe the sting. “What the hell did you do that for?”

“Don't be a baby. I didn't pull that hard.” She stepped back and combed a hand through her hair as if nothing had happened. “Just enough to get your attention.”

He rubbed the area over his navel where she'd plucked out a couple of hairs. It didn't really hurt.
He'd been surprised more than anything. “Sweetheart, you already had my attention.”

“The wrong kind. Get my point?”

He quickly buttoned his shirt. “You came on to me, chickened out and now you're pulling this act. I get the point, all right.”

She made a sound of exasperation and glanced heavenward as she headed for the door. “In your dreams.”

“We've been married a little too long for you to start acting coy now.”

She stopped, turned and stared at him.

He put a warning finger to his lips. He knew he should feel guilty for making up the lie about the bugs in their room, but he hoped this would keep Cassie on her toes.

Cassie blinked, but then without skipping a beat, said, “That isn't coy, that's regret. For marrying you.”

“Now that you've got that off your chest, shall we go down and join the others?”

Her response was to open the door and leave without him.

He easily caught up with her before she hit the stairs. “How did it go with Mary Jane while you were alone with her?”

She slid him a peevish look, but then followed his lead and they were back to business. “It's possible she's cagey and playing us, but I think she's just a gofer and frankly, not all that bright.”

“You guys didn't talk about anything meaty then?”

Hesitating, her gaze darted away, making him ner
vous. “Not really. I tried to ask about Bask but she got a little guarded.”

He heard laughter coming from the parlor and he stopped midway down the stairs. “As in suspicious?”

Cassie shook her head. “More defensive, especially after I made it sound like I was concerned about his credentials and success rate.”

“Good. By the way, don't refer to him as Bask just in case we're ever overheard. Let's just call him Robert.”

“Good point.”

He smiled. Well, that was something…her actually conceding he had a worthwhile thought.

“What?”

He shrugged. “I'm glad we agree on something.”

She gave him a skeptical look and then started to descend the stairs again. “I'm not particularly worried about Mary Jane but I won't be letting my guard down around her either.

“Good. Never underestimate anyone. Do you think she's a natural blonde?”

“Excuse me?” Cassie stopped on the next step, anger simmering in her gaze.

“Now what did I say?”

“She's blond so she has to be dumb?”

“Oh, no.” Dalton shook his head and started down the stairs again. “I did not say that.”

She was right beside him. “That's what you implied.”

“For your information, I only asked because I'm going to give my office a description of her and if
either of us thinks she's altered her appearance in any way, which I personally believe she has, I'll need to tell them.”

“Oh.” The sheepish look on her face did his heart good. “Sorry.”

“Hey, did you hear the one about the guy who gave his blond wife a cell phone for Christmas?”

The indignation was back on her face again, and she glared at him. “I have heard every stupid dumb blonde joke there is and none of them are funny.”

“You haven't heard the cell phone one, I bet.”

“And the ones I haven't heard I don't wish to hear. Thank you very much.”

“This will make you laugh. Loosen you up some.”

“I'm loose enough.”

He grinned. “Just the way I like my women.”

“Gee, I'm so surprised.”

“Okay, this guy gave his wife a cell phone for Christmas, explained to her how to use it and—”

“I'm not listening.”

“The next day she went shopping so he thought he'd surprise her with her first call.” Dalton chuckled when she started humming to drown him out. “The wife answered the phone, and totally amazed, asked ‘How did you know I was at Wal-Mart?'”

Cassie pressed her lips together.

He gave her a playful nudge. “Tell me that isn't a good one.”

“It sucks.”

“That's why you're trying not to smile.”

“Grow up.” She lifted her chin and moved ahead of him.

The noise level from the parlor rose as they got to the bottom of the stairs. Mary Jane appeared with a wineglass in each hand.

She gave them a blinding smile and handed them each a glass. “It's about time you two got down here. Everyone's anxious to meet you.”

Dalton stared at the amber liquid. “What is this?”

“Sherry.”

“Oh, man.” He got a whiff and passed it back to her a bit too forcefully. “No, thanks.”

Both women gave him funny looks. So maybe he overreacted, but his ex drank that stuff and he couldn't even stand the thick sweet smell.

“We have a full bar,” Mary Jane said. “Just follow me.”

“I'm sure they have some rubbing alcohol for you,” Cassie whispered with a sugary smile, and then cut in front of him to follow Mary Jane into the parlor.

He was going to have to have a long talk with Cassie about her animosity toward him. She was carrying this sparring marriage act to the limit. He'd explained why he had to kiss her and pick her up in the bar. There was no reason to cop this attitude.

“Here we are,” Mary Jane said as they entered the parlor. Everyone stopped talking as six pairs of curious eyes focused on them. “These are our newest guests, Dalton and Cassie Styles. And now I'll let each of you introduce yourselves.”

Dalton's gaze immediately went to the redhead. Ex
cept regrettably, now she had on a shirt, though low-cut and leaving her midriff bare.

She gave him a dazzling smile. “I'm Simone.” She pursed her lips in a pout. “I am so sorry about this afternoon,” she said, her voice slightly accented and totally without remorse. “I promise it will not happen again.”

Too bad.
He smiled. “No problem.”

“I'm Grant, her husband.”

Dalton had to swing around to link the voice to the man because it sure wasn't the guy sitting next to her. Close, practically on her lap.

Grant stood near the bar, tall, black hair with a touch of gray at the temples, very distinguished looking. And either inebriated or pissed at his wife.

Dalton caught Cassie's eye. She wasn't happy.

“Grant.” Dalton extended his hand and moved toward the guy when it appeared he wasn't going to budge. “Been here long?”

He gave Dalton a firm shake. “This time or the first time?”

Dalton just kind of grunted.

“Next.” Mary Jane was just too damn perky.

“I'm Kathy, and this is my husband, Tom.” A pretty strawberry blonde with big blue eyes smiled shyly. “We're from Austin, and this is our first time here.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Cassie said. “It's our first time, too.”

“And last,” Dalton added, which got Tom's attention.

The guy nodded his blond head in agreement, his narrow tanned face pinched in disgust. Even sitting down he looked tall and lanky. It wasn't just the championship rodeo buckle he wore, or the worn cowboy boots, but the guy looked like a bona fide cowboy. Interestingly, his wife looked and smelled of money. A perfect target for Bask.

“I'm Harvey,” the man sitting beside Simone announced, “and that is my wife Zelda.” He actually stood and approached Dalton with his hand extended, his expression formal, as if this were a business meeting. “We just got here yesterday.”

The guy had a weak grip, which always annoyed Dalton. He smiled at Zelda. In her mid-fifties, she looked to be a good ten years older than Harvey. Or maybe it was just the old-fashioned hairstyle she wore, one thick black braid wrapped around the crown of her head. A liberal sprinkling of gray contributed further to an older appearance.

Zelda smiled back and then took a sip of whatever was in her brandy snifter. A large diamond that had to be at least five carats flashed on her ring finger.

“Well, now that we all know each other a little, let's all just mingle before dinner.” Mary Jane planted herself at the bar and started pouring more drinks.

“Where's Robert? I thought he'd be here tonight,” Simone asked with that practiced pout.

“Mr. Blankenship had a social engagement tonight. He'll be here first thing in the morning. In plenty of time for your group session.”

“Uh, group session?” Dalton glanced from Mary Jane to the others. Tom looked as pleased as Dalton.

Mary Jane tilted her head to the side and in a teasingly scolding tone, she asked, “Didn't you read the week's activity sheet I left in your room?”

“Apparently not.” Maybe Cassie was right. Maybe there was a little more swing to this encounter group than he'd expected. He met her widening eyes, and they both asked at the same time, “What group session?”

Mary Jane laughed. “I'm not sure what you two are thinking, but all we do is sit around and discuss general attitudes about marriage, and then we get down to specifics about each couple.”

“I know exactly what they're thinking,” Simone said with a predatory smile, “and it would be infinitely more fun.”

“For God's sake, give it a rest, Simone.” Grant drained his drink.

“What's the matter, dear? Afraid you won't measure up?” Simone looked directly at Dalton and blatantly sized him up, and then smiled again.

Grant drew everyone's attention with a few choice words for his wife. Cassie leaned closer to Dalton and chuckling, she said, “Looks like you passed the test, big boy.”

“So did you.”

She drew back, frowning in her confusion.

He kept his gaze level with hers. “Harvey looks like he's ready to eat you alive,” he explained.

She swung her head around to look at the older man. He winked at her.

It was Dalton's turn to chuckle. “Smooth, Cassie, really smooth.”

“Shut up, Styles.”

“Don't call me that,” he whispered. “You're supposed to be my wife.”

“No one heard.” She sipped the sherry Mary Jane had given her and made a face. “This stuff is nasty.”

“Come on. Let's get a real drink and then go for a walk outside.”

“We can't just leave now. This is supposed to be the social hour.”

“I don't think anyone will miss us.” He motioned with his chin. Zelda and Kathy just sat there looking miserable, while Simone held center stage with the men. Except her husband. He stayed near the bar scowling as he worked on his scotch.