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“I want you, Katie,” he said, his voice low but firm, his gray eyes warm. The room seemed to shrink around them, the intimacy expanding in the same breath. “No one else.”
Something about the way he spoke had her body quivering. They weren’t talking about security and they both knew it. “You are aware that I’m not the least bit enamored by your star-ballplayer status, right? That I won’t sleep with you because you’re some famous pitcher.”
“I wouldn’t want you if you would,” he replied, his eyes holding hers, his expression unwaveringly intense.
Understanding swept through Katie as she put two and two together thanks to those articles she’d read. Luke was feeling used and abused because of his stardom. He was drawn to her for the very reasons she was nervous about him. Yet, he seemed to trust her more easily than she did him. “How do you know I’m not manipulating you?” she asked. “Maybe I’m pretending to hate athletes because that’s what you want to hear?”
He stepped to her side of the bar, his big body towering over hers, her body angled toward his, her knees all that separated the two of them. He smelled fresh, of soap and shaving cream. “Because I saw how much you hated me when you thought I was like Joey last night, how much you resented Ron for bringing you here.”
“And you still trust me to protect you?”
“Ron sent me your credentials, and after meeting you, I reread them. You come well qualified.”
Katie believed in being direct and honest. She liked that Luke was direct, as well. And she was beginning to think she liked him, too.
Feeling more than a little mesmerized by his gray eyes and nearness, she said, “All right, then. We should start working on our cover story. You know. The entire dating thing. How we met. Where we met. We should learn a few things about each other so we display convincing intimacy. Your season starts in less than a week, which thankfully is a home game. I’ll want to be in the bleachers, and getting close to those close to you, so I can look for trouble.”
“First things first,” he said. “How do you like your eggs?” His eyes twinkled, his voice taking on a sensual play on words as he added, “Because I don’t know about you, but something about all this being close stuff has me starving.”
Katie’s thighs clenched on that final word, and the implication that he was starving for more than eggs. He was starving for her. And damn it, she was starving for him. He moved to the refrigerator, and a breath escaped her lips.
Every time she brought up his security issues, he turned up the heat. Luke wasn’t the only one in danger. Because she was beginning to forget why getting involved with Luke, why taking an undercover lover straight to the bedroom, was a bad thing.
***
AN HOUR LATER, Katie sat at the bar across from Luke, her plate pushed aside, having been lured into a game of twenty questions on the pretense of playing the roles of boyfriend and girlfriend around his team. “A Dairy Queen Blizzard, you say.” She repeated the name of his favorite ice cream treat.
He gave a decisive nod. “The best soft serve on the planet, with whatever topping you like,” he said. “I prefer the chocolate-chip cookie dough.”
“Dairy Queen,” she repeated, crinkling her nose. “Is there a Dairy King?”
He chuckled. “Not that I know of. I’ll take you to meet the Queen during the Texas series.”
“If I’m still around when that time comes,” she said softly, suddenly hating the fact that doing her job well meant she wouldn’t be. How had she gone from damn near kneeing this man in the groin to hoping to be eating ice cream in Texas with him?
“The Texas series is coming up soon,” came a male voice. “Of course you’ll be around.”
Katie and Luke turned at the sound of Ron’s voice, finding Maria standing in the doorway beside him. He was dressed in a well-fitted black suit and tie, ready for the office.
“I came by to check on you two,” Maria said, “and let him in.” She glanced at the stove, where butter had spattered and been left. Crumbs decorated the counter, several jars of different jellies open beside them. “Oh, my, I hate when he cooks. He makes such a mess.”
Ron’s gaze flickered from Luke’s to Katie’s and then to Maria. He motioned them to the other room. A few seconds later, they all stood in an office, a mahogany desk as the centerpiece, surrounded by walls of sports memorabilia. Katie sat in front of the desk in a cushy leather chair. Luke sat behind it. Ron stood at one end of it, resting on the surface.
“All of Luke’s mail is routed to a P.O. box,” Ron said. “I picked up yesterday’s on my way to work this morning.” He opened a file and held up a clear bag full of a half-dozen envelopes. “I didn’t open the latest one. It’s the same plain envelope with no return address, stamped from another different location.”
