Read Online Texan Undercover (Romantic Suspense) by Anne Marie Novark - Free Book Online Page A

even
reverted to her maiden name.
    Dillon stopped beside the chair where Claire
lay sleeping and looked down at her. She was so damned beautiful.
Dark, thick lashes rested on her white skin. High cheekbones were
dusted with the barest of pink. Diamond and emerald studs twinkled
in her delicate earlobes.
    The jewels proclaimed her background and
wealth. The reminder gave Dillon pause. He shook away any
misgivings.
    It didn't matter. He would be the one
leaving, not her. He would not allow Claire to get under his skin.
He just wanted to have a good time. No one would get hurt.
    He intended to play his cards close. Make
Claire feel comfortable with him. She was determined not to act on
the attraction. But he could tell she was fighting a losing battle.
Just like he had fought. And lost. But he was going to turn it
around and win. There was really no reason he could think of not to
enjoy spending time with Claire. In bed and out. It was temporary.
Perfect.
    Dillon squatted on his haunches and touched
her shoulder. "Wake up, Claire."
    Those long lashes fluttered, but she remained
asleep. He jiggled her shoulder. Damn, she felt good under his
hand. What would she do if he hauled her out of that chair and into
his arms? He slid his hand down her shoulder and rubbed her arm.
She felt fragile beneath his fingers.
    Giving into temptation, Dillon touched
Claire's cheek. Caressed her skin; traced her smooth jaw. She
turned her head into the caress and made a purring sound that
almost made Dillon come unglued. He wanted to sit in that chair
with her on his lap and caress more than her cheek. He wanted to
feel the weight of her on his groin. He wanted inside of her.
    " Sacre bleu! What is this?"
    Dillon jerked his hand away and jumped to his
feet.
    Claire woke with a start and sat up straight
in the chair. "Richard? I didn't know you were here," she said,
blinking away the sleep.
    "What are you doing here?" Dillon
asked.
    "Me? I have been working as usual, naturellement ."
    "On Sunday?" Something about the little chef
rubbed Dillon the wrong way.
    "But of course. It is often, I work on
Sunday. I make the dough. I organize the week. What is wrong with
this?"
    Claire rose and smoothed her ponytail. "You
didn't hear us come in?"
    Richard shrugged. "I had the radio on my
ears. I was busy in the kitchen."
    "In the kitchen? Making the dough?" Dillon
frowned. Was it his imagination or did the Frenchman seem
uncomfortable? "That is correct." Richard stepped closer, waving
his wooden spoon. "But what, may I ask, are you doing here, monsieur ? I will not allow you to touch mademoiselle ,
especially while she is sleeping."
    Claire looked at Dillon, a question in the
dark brown depths of her eyes.
    Damn, he didn't like to explain himself. He
didn't like the chef's nosy questions, either. "I was trying to
wake you."
    "Well, I'm awake now. Are you finished here?"
She blinked again and stretched.
    "Yeah. Let's go." Dillon forced his eyes away
from the enticing bit of flesh below the hem of her sweater.
    "Not so quickly," Richard said. "You have not
answered my question."
    Dillon sighed. "Claire's the boss. I don't
answer to you, Pierre."
    "She has no one to protect her," Richard
said. "I will protect her from the likes of you."
    "From the likes of me?" Dillon said softly.
He started walking toward the annoying chef.
    Claire tugged on his shirt. He glanced over
his shoulder. She shook her head slightly, her eyes dancing with
amusement.
    She turned to the chef. "Richard, I
appreciate what you're doing, but I don't need protection. I can
take care of myself."
    "Humph. You are too innocent, mademoiselle . Too delicate. Too beautiful. You do not
realize what you do to a man." He gripped his spoon and held it to
his heart.
    Dillon's patience snapped. Enough with the
high drama. "Look, Pierre--"
    The Frenchman stiffened. "My name is not
Pierre."
    "Right, whatever. Why don't you go back to
your kitchen and do whatever you were doing. Claire and I