Hot Target

“You mean he’s a ballplayer,” Donna said.

“That’s irrelevant,” Katie reminded her.

“Actually it’s quite relevant,” Donna countered. “It’s a chance to be empowered. Have a hot fling and move on, and do so with a smile on your face. As Nike says—Just do it! Besides, you said he doesn’t take these threats seriously. Sometimes the woman in a man’s bed has the most influence on him.”

Or the least, Katie thought drily. Which might be exactly what Luke hoped for. Sex with Luke might not keep her from doing her job, but it would keep him from taking her seriously. And sex complicating her relationship with Luke might well send her packing, and her sister was too important to risk this job going wrong.

“Luke is the one paying our salaries right now,” Katie said. “Seriously, woman, where is your professionalism?”

“Oh, all right,” Donna reluctantly acknowledged. “I guess you have a point.”

“Finally,” Katie announced. “Which brings us to the reason I took this job in the first place. How is my sister?”

“Carrie is a royal pain in the backside, as always, but she’s safe. The girl couldn’t find good sense if it was chasing her. How you two are related, I’ll never understand. Are you sure your mom didn’t cheat on your dad, and she’s the product of an affair?”

“You ask me that all the time, so I’ll ignore the question and move on.”

“You always do, and I never get my answer. Funny that. Makes me wonder more.” Then, as if Donna read her mind, which she often did, she added, “I delivered the first payment to those damn, bloodsucking sharks. Sorry bastards.”

Katie laughed, embracing her friend’s boisterous, opinionated and impossible-to-ignore personality to lighten the dark situation. Thank God for her.

“What?” Donna asked innocently—there was nothing innocent about Donna.

“Just loving that loud mouth of yours right about now,” Katie admitted. “Get some sleep, woman.” Katie sighed, but then remembered something. “Oh, wait. What time—”

“Ten o’clock on American Flight 202, but not until Saturday. They had a few bumps wrapping up their present assignment.” And today was Wednesday. Damn. “They” referred to Noah and Josh, Katie’s two most trusted security experts.

“What kind of bumps?” She pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” She knew that they knew what they were doing. If they needed more time, they needed more time. She simply wanted company guarding Luke so she wasn’t alone with him. “Just tell them to try and get here sooner. Thanks for always being on top of things, Donna,” Katie said appreciatively. “Oh, and FYI, I should have a full file on Luke, and the threats he’s received, early tomorrow. At least, that’s what Ron promised me at the airport.”

“I certainly would hope so,” Donna said. “He rushed you to take this job as it is. If it’s urgent so is the data for us to do our jobs.”

“Agreed,” Katie said. “But right now, we should both get some rest.”

“Night-night, Katie dear. Dream sweet. May I suggest a theme? How about a little true undercover action with a certain sexy baseball player? A pitcher maybe?”

Katie laughed despite herself. “The only way you could know he’s sexy is if you did an online search. And you did, didn’t you?”

Donna snorted. “I watch television.”

“You hate sports.”

“But not the players,” she said. “I’d love some baseball player in nice tight pants. Oh, yes. I keep up with the highlights. Luke’s a hottie. Admit it.”

“Professionalism, Donna,” Katie said, pretending ample indignation. “I’m hanging up.”

“Meaning you think he’s sexy.”

“Hanging up now, Donna.” And she did. Katie hit the end button on the phone and tossed it to the bed. The phone immediately rang again. She rolled her eyes and answered. “Donna. Good night already.” Silence.

“Donna?”

A strange feeling inched its way up her spine. This wasn’t Donna or anyone else she called a friend. The line was so silent, it was eerie. But someone was on the line. Someone who had her private phone number.

Apparently the hoodlums who were after her sister knew people. Damn. She took a deep, calming breath. “I told you the money was coming. You’ll get it.” Silence.

“You’ll get your money.”

The line went dead. Katie dialed Donna to warn her. By the time she hung up the phone again, she was ready to pace the floor. No way was she sleeping.

NEAR EIGHT the next morning, dressed in black jeans and a matching black ruffled blouse, Katie sat at Luke’s island kitchen bar. With only a few hours of sleep under her belt, Katie had, nevertheless, woken up more determined than ever to keep things between her and Luke all business and, in fact, to get down to business. She placed a steamy cup of coffee beside her; she needed the caffeine and had helped herself to the coffeepot.

Those gambling sharks had to get out of her sister’s life, and this job allowed Katie the financial means to make it happen. That advantage deserved grateful hard work, not the bitter resistance she’d come here with, which, if she were honest with herself, was immature and out of character.

She was here to keep the man safe, and she intended to do so. That she wanted him, that he clearly and totally rocked her body to a steamy sizzle, complicated things. But she wasn’t going to allow it to get in the way of protecting him. And truth be told, playing the girlfriend put her front and center with those closest to him—and those people had to be considered suspects.

So with all that logic recapped in her mind about a million times and with her laptop fired up in front of her, Katie searched media blitzes involving Luke that might offer leads on his stalker. She tabbed through a recent story on Luke regarding the thieving, low-life manager he’d endured before Ron took over. Luke had been through some real bad stuff lately, enough to make her sit up and take notice. No wonder he didn’t want Katie around, she thought, lifting her coffee cup to sip. A sudden prickling of heat tingled along her skin.

Katie’s gaze lifted and settled on Luke, who was standing in the entryway, looking good enough to eat for breakfast in faded jeans, a team T-shirt that hugged his oh-so-yummy broad chest, and a pair of scuffed cowboy boots. His light brown hair, thick and a bit mussed up, screamed for well-placed female fingers—not hers, she told herself. Okay. Maybe hers.

“You’re up early,” he said, crossing to the coffeepot and grabbing a cup from the shiny walnut cabinet.

“So are you,” she said, quickly minimizing the computer screen to hide the story she was reading so Luke wouldn’t see it.

“I’m an early riser,” he said from behind and to her right. “It’s a curse. No matter how late I go to sleep, I wake up by eight in the morning.”

She rotated around to bring him into view, resting her arm on the high back of the bar stool. “I wish I had that curse. It would make getting up easier.”

“You don’t want this curse. It leaves you sleep deprived more times than not.” He filled his cup. “I see you found the coffee.”

“Hope you don’t mind,” she said, but somehow she knew he didn’t. “I kind of made myself at home.”

He joined her at the corner of the bar, directly beside her, and reached for the creamer sitting next to her computer. “Not at all,” he commented, dumping the creamer in his cup. “Nice to wake up to it already made.” He snagged her spoon where it rested on a paper towel and stirred. Her spoon. He knew it was hers. It was an intimate gesture of sharing that people in relationships did and it sent a silly little flutter through Katie’s stomach.

“That’s what they make automatic-timer coffeepots for,” she said.

He sipped his coffee. “I never seem to remember to put the coffee in the night before.”

“I’m surprised Maria doesn’t set it up for you,” she commented.

He shrugged. “She only comes three times a week,” he said. “She keeps the dust from building up while I’m gone, and it’s nice to have a home-cooked meal when I’ve been on the road for months on end.”

“Where are your parents?” Katie asked. “Are you close to them?”

“They’re in Austin, Texas, where I played college ball. Still my biggest fans and the best people I have ever known in this lifetime despite being my parents.”

Katie smiled softly, took a sip of her coffee. It said a lot about a man when he was not only close to his parents, but spoke openly about how close he was to them. “Any siblings?”

He took a drink and then set his cup down. “None,” he said, resting his hands on the end of the island bar. “What about you? Parents? Siblings?”