Hot Target. Lisa Renee Jones
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His anger slid away with the appearance of a twinkle in his eyes. “Tucking tail and running?”
Yeah, she was, but she wasn’t admitting that. She was running, and doing so fast and hard. Ripping his clothes off would get her nowhere but in trouble, yet she wanted to. Oh, boy, did she want to. That she was even thinking about it spoke volumes about where her head was right now, and it wasn’t a place that allowed her to do her job. Luke was in danger. She was here to protect him, not get naked with him. It was time to get it together.
And yet, with that grand plan in mind, she still responded to his challenge, still could not resist saying, “I do not tuck tail and hide.”
“I said run, not hide.”
She shrugged. “Same thing.”
“If you say so,” he said, obviously unconvinced, but he didn’t push. “I’m hungry. You like Chinese food? There’s a spot up the road that delivers.”
She shook her head, trying to clear the skid marks from the sudden change of topic. “What game are you playing, Luke Winter?”
“No game. I’m hungry. I figured you might be, too.”
He was trying to get her to let down her guard again. She wasn’t a fool. This man and this situation were turning her upside down. “You’re my client.”
“Right,” he said, reaching for a cordless phone on the bar and sitting down. “And that means what exactly?”
Her chin inched up. She wanted the parameters set. The line drawn in the sand. Directness seemed her best option. “I can’t do this, Luke,” she said.
“Eat with me or sleep with me?”
“I can’t sleep with you.”
He arched that damnably sexy eyebrow and said, “Chinese food is okay, though, right?”
She inhaled, suddenly feeling really not so good about her directness—embarrassed, in fact. Maybe he’d already played his game and won the kiss. Maybe he’d moved on, and she was making something big out of nothing. He was a jerk, and she’d become some passing notch on his belt.
“I’m not hungry, after all,” she said. “I’d really prefer that you direct me to my room, and we can try starting fresh in the morning.”
“Tell me,” he said, resting his elbows on the bar, his dark tee stretching over well-honed muscle. “How are you going to play the role of my girlfriend when you’re running away from me?”
Damn the man. “I’m not running.”
“Prove it,” he dared with a gleam in his eye that told her she should keep her mouth shut. “Stay here and eat with me.”
“We’ll have plenty of time to eat together on the road,” she said. “And I have nothing to prove. I simply want to get some rest.”
He considered her a moment. “First door on the right at the top of the stairs.”
That was all she had to hear. Katie turned in flight, rushing toward the door, ready for escape. Running. Oh, yeah, she was running. “Katie.”
Something in his tone, in the softly spoken word, drew her to a pause at the door. She half turned, ready to complete her escape. “Yes?”
“I’m going to try to change your mind,” he said. He wasn’t talking about Chinese food. He was talking about sex.
“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t try.” But as she stepped into the hall, departing before he could say more, she knew she wanted him to try. Because she wanted him. She couldn’t run. She couldn’t hide. Not when she was sleeping in the man’s house.
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