try to stop me." Dakota opened the car door and jumped out. Her bare foot hit the pavement and the cold shock of it pushed a squeak out of her.
He leaned across the seat and gazed up at her, looking incredibly sexy in his boyish contriteness, damn him.
"In the morning you can go back to frumpy redhead and we'll sneak back to Harts Creek without the vultures ever knowing."
Frumpy redhead? He had a lot of nerve. "You forget that it was you they spotted in the first place."
He grinned at her and his blasted dimples made her insides melt all over again. "You're not the only one with a few tricks up your sleeves."
She glared at him and debated the situation. On her own the chance of escaping the paparazzi was slim. With him...? The odds might improve slightly, but he also added a whole new layer of complexity.
What choice did she have? Go out into the city and limp away at top speed from the press? Hardly.
"I want a room with a door I can lock," she said, sternly.
"No problem."
"You keep a distance from me of at least three feet at all times."
"Whenever possible."
"As soon as we get back, you pack up and go."
"No."
She blinked. "No?"
"I made you a promise. Until I'm convinced your secret is safe, I'm sticking around."
"How cheering." Dakota turned to march away, took one hopping step and gave it up. Well hell .
She sighed. By her estimate it was nearly midnight. She'd been up since four-thirty that morning. To say she was beginning to ache with exhaustion was putting it mildly.
She needed a place to crash and a way out of town. Trey was offering her both.
It galled her to give in, but one battle at a time as Dad always said. At least he'd taught her one useful thing.
"I call dibs on the shower in the morning. Single occupancy." She looked back at Trey pointedly, and did her best to ignore the triumph lighting his eyes.
* * *
Trey pushed the brim of his ball cap up and rubbed his hand across his face hoping to wipe the fatigue from his brain. Even the noise of the coffee maker grinding beans didn't make a dent.
Things were not going according to plan.
After he'd made arrangements for getting himself and Dakota out of town, he'd spent the few hours he had to sleep tossing and turning. He wanted to lie to himself and claim it was because a beautiful woman he wanted slept in the room next to his and he couldn't do anything about it. But that wasn't true.
At least not entirely.
He did want her, with a deep sizzling ache that drove him nuts. But it was more than that. She made him laugh...and think. She challenged him...and surprised him.
For the first time ever he felt a little sorry about what he had to do.
Was he finally getting a conscience after years of not giving a rat's ass about anyone but himself and his goals? Something like this could ruin everything.
She was just another woman. A means to an end. The bargaining chip for getting Jamison's help so he could finally get Rosie's adoption records opened.
Dakota could never be more than a tool to him and he could never be anything real for her, although he had to convince her he was. Otherwise she'd never accept his pitch.
That's what every job required. That was the game he had mastered--a skillful way of fracturing himself so he could feel what he didn't feel and be what he wasn't and convince the mark that he had their best interest in mind, please sign here.
As he watched the sun come up over the city that morning, he wasn't sure he could do it anymore.
Trey heard Dakota's light footsteps coming down the hall and looked up. She'd pulled her hair back, put her glasses on, and scrubbed off the heavy makeup. The clean New York Yankees sweatshirt, blue jeans and running shoes he'd left by her door suited her. She looked approachable. Appealing.
His groin tightened, increasing the pressure against the zipper of his jeans to an uncomfortable, and demanding level. He struggled to tone down his reaction to her, but it was no
Pittacus Lore, James Frey, Jobie Hughes