Page 66 of High-Priority Asset

“No, beautiful.” He took her hand. “I love you. I want you. I’ve almost been fired twice in the last twenty-four hours because of it. For knocking the daylights out of Ellis and then for telling you the truth. Isabel, what we share is real. Realer than anything I’ve had before. Last night, I chose you over everything else because I don’t want to lose you. We’re just getting started.”

It would’ve been the path of least resistance for Dutch to continue to lie, to sleep with her when she was throwing herself at him, but he hadn’t. He’d turned down sex and chosen honesty.

Chosen her.

Dutch stopped in front of the gallery. “Don’t you want to see what’s possible for us as a couple? I do. We can find out, no matter how you want to play it in San Diego with your uncle. And if you decide that you want me to disappear, where you never see or hear from me again, it’ll break my heart, but I’ll respect your wishes. Just think about it. Okay?”

“You lied to me,” she said, pulling her hand away. It was a hard thing to get over. Like climbing Mount Everest with no training, no gear, struggling through the change in altitude and lower oxygen pressure.

A wounded expression crossed his face. “Our chemistry is undeniable. My body reacts to yours, your touch, your kisses, hell, your voice. I love the way you taste, the way you smell. I think about you all the time. How to bring a smile to your face, to ease your troubles. And it’s not just attraction. Think about those two days we spent together in your apartment. We mesh, sweetheart. You and I—it’s kismet.”

She looked out the window at the sign on her art gallery. Kismet.

There was no better word to describe how she felt about Dutch, destiny, fate, but a part of her couldn’t help but wonder if he was playing her. Not that he had any reason to at this point.

Her uncle was the devil. Satan incarnate. He murdered her father. She was furious at Uncle Emilio. It didn’t take a holier-than-thou angel to help.

“I don’t know if I want to be with you,” she said, the lie tasting bitter. God help her, she did want him and felt like the biggest fool for it. “I need to work for a few hours.”

“Let me make sure it’s safe for you to go in first.”

He hopped out and ran inside. She watched him speak to Brenda for a minute, and he came back.

Dutch opened the door for her.

She climbed down from the truck. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to leave.”

“I’m going to park around back and order us some food to be delivered. You must be starved and I’m not leaving you,” he said. Isabel opened her mouth to protest, but he went on, “It’s too dangerous. I stay with you. Got it?”

“Fine,” she said, too tired to argue. She turned and strode inside the gallery.

“How did it go last night?” Brenda asked, rising from her seat, bright-eyed and excited.

“Not as I expected.”

“Oh, really?” Brenda frowned. “I was confident he’d be good in bed and I can tell that he’s really into you. He seems like he’d be a generous lover. What went wrong?”

Isabel shook her head, not wanting to get into it. Not having the strength to say it all out loud. “The timing was off. We didn’t make it to the bed. Then there was Chad. He blew up Dutch’s motorcycle.”

“What?” Brenda rushed around to her. “Chad is a total sicko. He scares me. I bet the cops won’t be able to prove that it was him.”

“Probably not.” She set her purse down on the reception desk. “If you have any free time, I have a ton of stuff to do for my uncle’s event in San Diego and could use your help.”

“Sure, whatever you need.”

A knock came at the back door.

“It’s Dutch,” Isabel said. “I’ll let him in. He’s going to hang around today.”

“Aww. That’s sweet.”

If only her friend knew the ugly, bitter truth. Sweet had nothing to do with it.

Isabel went to the back door and put her hand on the handle. “Dutch?” No such thing as too careful.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

She opened the door for him. Stepping inside, he shoved his badge into his pocket, but kept his gun.