CHAPTER THREE
Rachel rubbed her aching temples and took another swig of Gingerale. What had she been thinking? Obviously, her bad boy hunger had been satisfied because hunger was not what she felt this morning. Not even a twinge. Cameron was just going to have to accept the fact that she was beyond help. No more adventures, no more flashing, and no more biker bars. Ever.
Thank God she didn't have any appointments scheduled today. She jumped when the shrill shriek of the telephone on her desk stabbed her eardrums.
"Rachel Newberry," she answered, attempting to disguise her discomfort.
"Ms. Newberry, my name is Greg Huntington. I received your name from a friend of mine who highly recommends your services."
Rachel shifted to a sitting position and chased a rolling pencil around the desk. "How can I help you, Mr. Huntington?"
"One of my clients would like to build a house in the area. We would like to schedule a meeting."
She slapped the pencil with her open palm and wiggled it between her fingers. "I'd love to help you, however, my client list is full at the moment."
And I'm too hung over to focus on my calendar.
She heard a throaty chuckle across the line. "You might change your mind after meeting him."
Him? Her? Who cares?
"I'm sorry, Mr. Huntington, I'm just so busy right now. I could give you the name of-"
"My client is Jaydon Hawke."
A tense silence vibrated between them. Her head pounded double time. Any minute now one of two things were going to happen: Her head would explode and scatter what was left of her brain all over the desk, or the alarm would buzz and she'd wake up from this horrible nightmare.
"Ms. Newberry?"
She cleared her throat. "Does Mr. Hawke know who I am?"
Another cocky snicker. "Of course."
Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose. So much for anonymous. "And he still asked you to call me?"
"He insisted. Why?"
Rachel hesitated. How much did this man actually know about her encounter with Hawke? "Mr. Hawke and I have met."
"Yes, I know." A note of arrogance slipped through his response. "I don't understand your hesitancy."
Rachel sighed. Either he didn't know the whole story or he did and chalked it up to rock star drama. Still, she tread carefully. "We met last night under some very ... unusual circumstances. Trust me, after last night's fiasco, you should be surprised he wants to hire me."
A loud thunk pierced her left eardrum. O..kay... Apparently there were several things he didn't know. She squinted one eye and held the phone at arm's length until he spoke.
"Ms. Newberry, we would really appreciate an appointment."
Another wave of nausea crested in her esophagus. She swallowed hard, desperate to get him off the phone. "If you're certain."
"I am."
"Fine. I'll meet him after hours." Rachel scribbled Greg's name on her calendar. "Six o'clock this evening."
"We'll take it. Hawke and his security manager will be there."
Rachel returned the receiver to the cradle and threw her head back against her chair, only to regret the rapid movement. She squeezed her eyes closed and begged her stomach to behave. Why on Earth had she been so agreeable to meet Hawke? And now what? By now the bouncer had filled him in on all the excitement. Rachel groaned. How was she supposed to know Hawke planned to hire her? She pressed her palms to her forehead and took a deep breath.
Wait a minute.
Cameron was probably right, the beefy bodyguard was much more than muscle. Now she was certain they'd checked her out. And the manager, what's-his-name- she leaned forward and checked her calendar - Greg Huntington. He mentioned a referral from another client. So, had Hawke planned to hire her before the concert?
She reached for the aspirin near the computer. Whatever his reasoning, she was stuck now. Besides, even if she did call and cancel, Cameron would reschedule. In fact, Cameron would welcome the opportunity to flex her muscle at both Hawke and his bodyguard. Rachel released a heavy sigh. Hawke just didn't realize how lucky he was that he'd caught her at a weakmoment.
***
Lt. Jaydon Hawke twirled the business card through his fingers as Cpt. Max Sterling drove him to meet the mysterious Rachel Newberry. After the unexpected events of the last twenty four hours, he wasn't sure quite what to expect. The sexy woman he had encountered last night was a total surprise. Where was the meek and plain architect that had been secretly followed and photographed? He hadn't been as prepared as he'd thought.
Part of him wanted to believe she arranged the after-hours meeting for personal reasons. After all, they hadn't had an opportunity to talk much at the show. Or at Harley's. But then, Greg mentioned her hesitance at meeting at all. Almost as if she had no intention of ever seeing him again. Hawke scrubbed a hand over his jaw, aggravated by the question marks assaulting his brain.
"Take it easy, Hawke. Stick to the plan. You're just supposed to seduce her, like always."
Max's booming command caused Hawke to shove his thoughts of Rachel to the side and at least attempt to appear smooth. "What makes you think I'm planning anything more?" Hawke shrugged. "She's a suspect and I have to do whatever it takes to get close to her."
"Something else is going on in that thick skull of yours."
"Just strategy."
"If you say so."
"She's not what I expected."
"They never are."
"No, really. According to her profile, she hardly ever leaves the office, she has one close friend, and she rarely socializes."
"So?"
"So why the hell was she at the concert?"
"We lured her there, remember?"
Hawke weighed that fact. True, they had approached her client with concert tickets, hoping he would pass them to her. "We provided the bait, but why did she accept?"
"I think the blonde hellcat had something to do with that."
Hawke snickered. "That is highly possible."
"You know as well as I do criminals don't advertise."
"She doesn't fit the prototype."
"You've spent too many hours behind a computer, Hawke. I think there's more to it."
Hawke folded his arms across his chest. "Oh yeah? Then, please, fill me in."
"Seems to me you're caught up in your cover. She's a young, beautiful piece of tail who didn't kiss your ass. You want to find out why and change her mind."
"Gee-zus, Max, she's a mark!"
Max raised an eyebrow but didn't answer.
Hawke opened his mouth to argue then decided against it. Max knew the score. Screw the assignment. Rachel's rejection stung. Not because she wasn't interested - she was interested, her body had betrayed her in that regard - but because she wouldn't give him a chance.
Max pulled into the nearest parking space. Hawke crammed on a baseball cap and dark sunglasses and waited for Max to open his door. After Max circled the vehicle twice in his routine check for anything unusual, they sauntered through the front door of the office building.
Max nodded at the security officer seated behind a row of monitors and then steered him onto the waiting elevator. Within the next 30 seconds, the heavy metal elevator door opened, depositing them just outside a closed office door. Hawke glanced at the nameplate. Newberry & Tremaine.
Max gave him a sideways glance. "You ready for this?"
Hawke grinned. Nothing, not even a cold metal zipper could keep him out. "Hell yeah."
Max grasped the doorknob, strolled into the office, and then nodded for Hawke to enter.
Two steps inside, Hawke stopped short when he caught sight of an amazing heart-shaped ass covered in what appeared to be red silk waving hello from the reception desk. Hawke raised his glasses and looked at Max. Sorry sucker was zeroed in on the same thing.
Hawke replaced his glasses and cleared his throat. Max grinned.
"Hold your horses." Muffled by the position, the voice at the other end released a heavy dose of sass into the room. "I dropped my earring and it rolled down here somewhere. Oh, here it is!"
As soon as the figure stood and faced them, Hawke knew this would be an interesting meeting.
The tiny blonde with the gorgeous rack pocketed a gold hoop earring and gave her skirt a tug. "May I-" Her voice suddenly broke in mid-sentence. "Holy cow."
Hawke flipped through his mental rolodex. Karen? Kelley?
"Cameron Tremaine." She stuck out her hand and grinned. "And you are Jaydon Hawke."
"Hawke." He shifted and accepted her outstretched hand, surprised she didn't seem bothered that both he and Max could probably describe her lingerie in great detail.
"Okay, then, Hawke." The devil danced in her eyes as she flicked a gaze toward the back corner office. "Rachel's on the phone. She'll be right with you."
"Thank you."
Cameron's ever-present grin remained glued on her face as she turned to Max. "And since you've already manhandled me, I guess I should get your name."
"Max."
"Max ..." she hesitated, obviously expecting him to give his last name.
"Just Max."
"Oh come on, big guy," she taunted. "Even prisoners give their name, rank and serial number."
Hawke wasn't sure if it was the thought of her panties or not, but his blood pressure rose a few degrees. Nobody, women included, challenged Max. His size alone discouraged it. Yet this one, petite, blue-eyed bombshell didn't appear to give a damn.
"Behave, Cameron."
Another wave of heat rippled his skin as he turned to see who dared tame the sassy lioness. Relief unknotted his stomach muscles when he saw Rachel Newberry, the same dragonslayer who had conquered the fiery jaws of his metal zipper.
"Mr. Hawke, we meet again."
As he grasped her outstretched hand, Hawke took a second to consider his strategy while his shaded eyes bounced between the two women. Should he leave Max with Cameron? His first thought was to reschedule, exit stage left, and run. Except that Cameron stood between him and the door and there was just something about her that, well, scared him. Instead, he waited for Rachel to say something. But she didn't.
So he played it smooth and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "Ms. Newberry."
She squeezed then extracted her hand. "Come on into my office and we'll review your plans."
Hawke glanced at Max then cleared his throat. "You gonna be okay out here?"
Max folded his arms across his chest. "I'm not going anywhere, Hawke."
Convinced Max had everything under control, Hawke turned and followed Rachel down the hall, tantalized by the sway of her curvy hips.
A sense of dread pooled in Max's stomach as he watched Hawke disappear into the back office. He shifted his eyes to the blonde poltergeist hovering next to him.
"So," she said in the baited silence, "we meet again also."
He moved his head about two millimeters to the left, not offering friendly conversation.
"You would have to be the strong silent type," she mumbled as she sat on the sofa. She patted the cushion beside her. "You might as well make yourself comfortable. They'll be awhile."
Max looked from the sofa, to the front door, and back at her.
She rolled her baby blues. "I won't bite."
He bit back a threatened grin. Probably not. But who said it was her he was worried about? Fully dressed in a short business skirt that he knew from experience hid some very biteable thighs, she still excited him. The shoes she wore today once again added height and screamed take me. He swallowed, lost in thought. If she were standing there naked in the high heels, a strand of pearls hanging around her slender neck, he just might possibly latch his mouth onto her and brand her.
He smiled a slow, easy grin. "I might."
She gave him a full pouty smile. One he wanted to kiss right off her face. "You wish."
She didn't know how true her statement really was but Max wasn't ready to share that fact.
"So, you're the hired muscle." She crossed her tiny feet with blood-red polished toenails and propped one elbow against the back of the couch.
Max turned his attention to the third button of her blouse, the one no longer fastened. The same one that revealed a flash of red lace. Hell's bells. What was with this woman and her lingerie? Then again, the lingerie was just a front. His first-hand knowledge of what rested beneath the lacey disguise shaped his thinking at this very point in time.
When her fingers pushed the button back through the slot, he raised his eyes. "Yeah."
He waited for her to blast him for ogling her. Instead, she continued their conversation as if she didn't even notice.
"Don't worry, this place is a fortress."
"Really." Max refocused his attention. "Security didn't even budge when we came up."
She didn't appear surprised by his accusation. "Rachel cleared you. Besides, security makes allowances for her clients. They assume there is a bodyguard in tow."
"What about cameras?"
"We don't have them in here, but the building is covered."
"Are all the doors secured?"
She didn't immediately answer. Instead, she studied her nails, as if bored with his interrogation. "You're obsessed."
"It's my job."
She narrowed her eyes until they resembled a Siamese cat on the prowl. "Is Hawke in some sort of danger?"
Max chuckled at her suspicion. She was sharp. "The only thing Hawke is in danger of are overzealous groupies."
"You have nothing to worry about. Rachel is definitely not a groupie."
"Are you?"
"No."
He peered over the top of his glasses and waited for her to answer his unvoiced request for explanation.
Her cheeks actually pinkened but her gaze never wavered from his. "Desperate times, desperate measures, and all that jazz," she mumbled.
***
Rachel motioned to a chair beside her desk then sat in her own. Hawke spun the chair around and straddled it.
"Would you like me to dim the lights?" she asked, her eyes twinkling in amusement.
He tilted his head in confusion.
"Your sunglasses," she explained.
Hawke grinned at her humor and removed the glasses. "Ms. Newberry-"
Soft green eyes full of sincerity caressed his when she spoke. "Rachel, please. After all, I think we're past polite introductions."
"Rachel then," he amended. "You didn't stick around last night."
She studied him for a moment, then folded her hands and gave him a half smile. "Can we just pretend last night never happened?"
He paused to consider her question. Could she forget about the interaction between them? Crouched between his legs, her hands dangerously close to giving them both a night to remember didn't even leave an impression?
"You really want to forget about that?"
She didn't hesitate. "Yes. Most definitely. And I can honestly say I've never been in that position before."
"I have," he mumbled.
Rachel's mouth dropped open and Hawke realized too late what had just slipped from his lips. Yet even in her state of shock, electricity crackled between them. Her soft, pale facial features taunted him, dared him to run his thumb across her full, pouty bottom lip. Her clear, emerald eyes reminded him of a prowling tigress and reached deep into his soul to steal his thoughts.
"Well." She cleared her throat. "Tell me about your plans."
Hawke forced his mind back on business. House plans. The reason she thinks I'm here. "I don't really have anything in mind. I'm just in the market for real estate."
"Since you're here, I'm assuming that means you're interested in building a house."
"Yes."
Rachel lowered her eyes and scribbled on a note pad. "Will you spend much time there?"
Every single hour of every single day if she were around. "A lot."
Her head snapped to an upright position, as if she were startled by his admission. "You plan to live here?"
Hawke's confidence rose a few points. He now had her full attention. "You're surprised?"
"I assumed you spent most of your time working."
"I've decided to slow down and pursue some other interests."
Other interests like the sexy, young creature sitting across the desk from him. Her beauty held him hostage each time he looked at her, set him off kilter, and left him with a bad case of cottonmouth.
"What about real estate?" she continued. "Is there a particular area you're interested in?"
"No, I haven't had much time to check it out yet. Any ideas?"
"I design quite a few homes in Pacific Valley Heights." She slid a colorful brochure across the desk. "The community is exclusive and expertly gated. If you're interested, we need to make application quickly. The committee meets once a week."
He gave her a playful wink. "Think I'll pass inspection?"
"You won't have any problems."
He flipped through the brochure without really paying much attention then glanced back at her. "Do you livethere?"
She pursed her lips. "No."
Hawke shifted as he caught a note of avoidance in her tone.
"Where are you staying in the meantime?" she continued, pointedly changing the subject.
"I have a suite at Escondrijo Deserte."
The beginning of a smile tipped the corners of her mouth. "Desert Hideaway. Very nice place. An appropriate camouflage for someone of your notoriety."
Mesmerized by the warmth and silkiness of her voice, Hawke felt himself being sucked deep into a sea of desire. And he would kill the person who even thought to throw him a life preserver. "Have dinner with me."
"What?" She gave him a blank stare, her eyes once again wide in amazement.
"Dinner. You do eat, right?" he teased.
"You want to have dinner with me," she repeated slowly.
"Yes, Rachel, dinner."
"Only dinner."
For now. "Yes."
Rachel tilted her head to one side as if trying to process his invitation. "Forgive me. It has been my experience that men like you tend to expect a little more than dinner."
Hawke frowned. An insult? "Men like me?"
"Yeah, prominent, successful, used to getting what you want."
If she even had half an idea of what he really wanted, she'd turn him down and run. "So, you'll go?"
She smiled and shrugged. "Sure." She pushed her paperwork to the side and stood to shoulder a handbag resting on the corner of the desk. "Somehow I don't think you'd settle for McDonald's, so I know a place. Maybe you'll be more comfortable away from Cameron."
"Is anyone comfortable around her?"
She giggled and he almost came undone. That one breathy little sound made his libido tap dance. "Cameron's harmless," she assured him. "A little overbearing but harmless. In fact, we work as a team. You've hired both of us. She's a very talented interior designer."
"Cameron?" Hawke slid his glasses back in place. Somehow he couldn't picture her peacefully painting in a corner somewhere. "The same woman who slid past Max at the concert?"
Rachel frowned. "Max?"
"My security manager. The one sitting in your front office. Apparently you two met at the gate."
Her cheeks turned bright red yet she managed to ignore his push for information and redirect the conversation. "Actually, you and Cameron could probably work out a trade."
Hawke opened the door and motioned her through. "Trade?"
She nodded and reached around him to pull the door closed. "She has a major crush on your drummer."
Hawke followed Rachel back into the lobby, relieved to see Max in one piece. That would've been hell to explain.
Max eased himself from the sofa. "Where to?"
"Dinner," Hawke answered.
Cameron's eyebrows climbed her forehead.
Rachel shrugged. "Would you like to join us, Cameron?"
Cameron grinned. "No thanks. You forget I have a warm, willing male waiting for me at home."
"Suit yourself," Max muttered just before he opened the front door.
Rachel frowned. "Who?"
Cameron folded her arms across her chest. "You know who."
Rachel paused for a minute and tossed her hands in the air. "Of course! Maxwell, your ca-"
"Have fun, Rachel." Cameron stood from the couch. "And call me when you get home."