Lori Foster - Caught!

Either way, Dillon knew in his guts that Virginia was threatened. And he knew Cliff would be closing in on Wade very soon now. They couldn’t have much time left. He had to get into the files and find the real embezzler before it was too late. Taking Virginia was the only option open to him, the only way to settle both problems at one time.

Virginia wouldn’t like it, wouldn’t understand his motives. But Wade would. He knew it had to be now or never. He had no choice. Just as his father had watched out for him, he now watched out for Wade, regardless of personal feelings or conflicts. That much, at least, he understood about family.

With cold resolution he climbed from the bed and headed for the shower.

VIRGINIA COULDN’T HELP but be excited. She’d arrived at the parking lot fifteen minutes early. It was dark and cold and everything was covered in ice. The world sparkled beneath street lamps and moonlight, looking new and clean and magical.

Headlights curved into the lot and then blinded her as they slowly crept her way. Her heartbeat picked up rhythm, and she closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. Somehow, she knew Dillon wouldn’t be like the other men. He wouldn’t be satisfied with half measures and fumbling in the dark. The thought shook her, but in a small part of herself that she’d kept hidden for so very long, she was excited by the notion. She felt sexy.

Absurd, a woman her age, with her weight problems and practical outlook on life, but she couldn’t help it. She’d even worn sexy underclothes. A silk teddy, garters and silk hose. Instead of twisting her hair into a tight knot, she’d left it looser, more like the romantic Gibson-girl style. Little curls fell around her ears. She’d felt silly when she looked in the mirror, but she didn’t redo it.

She wore a long winter-white cashmere tunic and skirt, with ankle boots of the same creamy color. Even her thick cape was a matching off-white. Her red hair was the only color. And the blush on her cheeks.

The vehicle that pulled alongside her, facing the opposite direction, wasn’t the same car Dillon had kissed her in the other night. No, this was a big, mean, ugly truck. She squinted through the driver’s-side window and saw Dillon step out, holding on to the truck door because of the ice. He’d parked so close only a few feet separated them. He reached out and opened her door.

“Be careful. It’s like a frozen pond out here. Nothing but ice.”

She put her gloved hand in his and carefully stepped out. He held her securely, protectively. For a moment she allowed it, and then she realized what she was doing, how she was being treated, and she pulled back.

All day yesterday Dillon had hovered over her. He’d fretted, much like a mother hen, and she knew it was because he was worried. The break-in, though no big deal to Virginia, had upset him. Despite his capabilities, he was a mild-mannered man in most instances, and she supposed the circumstances might be unsettling to someone without her constitution.

In a way she thought it was sweet that he’d been so concerned for her welfare. But being independent had become second nature to her. It was her greatest protective instinct. “I’m fine. Just let me open my trunk and get my bag.”

“Your bag?”

Flustered, she fiddled with her car door. “You can’t expect me to spend the entire day with you and not have…other stuff with me. I didn’t know if we’d go out for dinner, or if you’d just want to…stay in the room.” Her voice trailed off. She’d packed things to refix her hair, anticipating that it might get rather mussed, and she’d brought something sexy to wear for him when they went to bed, as well as a cocktail dress. She’d never before planned a rendezvous and wasn’t certain of the protocol. But she had no intention of explaining all that to him.

“It’s not important, Dillon. Just let me—”

“No. I’ve got it.” He took her arm and, still holding on to his own door, pulled her toward his truck. “Just slide in on this side. I wouldn’t want you to fall and bruise anything.”

“I might fall, but you wouldn’t? Does being male give you better coordination?”

In the dim light, she saw him close his eyes, saw his breath puff out in a sigh. “Virginia, if I fall, I don’t care. And I can guarantee I’d be landing on a lot more solid muscle than you would.”

She didn’t know if that was a slur or not, but she didn’t ask him to clarify because she didn’t really want to know. Handing him the keys, she looked away and mumbled, “Fine. Suit yourself.”

He tugged her close as she tried to slide past him. His forehead dropped to hers. “Virginia.”

This close, she could see the dark sweep of his lashes, feel the warmth of his breath. He smiled. “You have an incredibly sexy ass. You know that, don’t you?”

Her heart tripped with the rough compliment. He sounded sincere, and she peeked up at him. He looked sincere—and as if he was waiting for her acknowledgment of the fact. “You have a wonderful way with words.”

His beautiful mouth tipped in a crooked grin, and once again his lashes swept his cheeks. “Sorry. Was my language too…colorful? I hope you won’t mind. I don’t know a lot of pretty words. But I do know a pretty bottom when I see one.” His firm palm went to that area and gently squeezed.

She was eternally grateful for the darkness hiding her blush. As it was, he probably felt the heat from her that seemed to pulse beneath her skin. Sex talk was new to her. And the raw, spontaneous way in which Dillon spoke was far from the practiced lines she usually heard.

She tightened her lips and tried not to laugh. “Thank you.”

His gaze lingered over a curl trailing past her cheek. “I like your new hairdo, too. Did you wear it this way for me?” His hand moved back to her waist.

Ironically, he didn’t look at all pleased by the notion. A more sophisticated man wouldn’t have asked. He would have assumed, and maybe been flattered, but he wouldn’t have embarrassed the woman by mentioning it. Virginia started to reply, but Dillon interrupted her.

His eyes were narrowed, and he looked reluctant to speak, but the words emerged anyway, low and raw. “Do you let it loose when you make love?” His gloved fingertips slid over her cheek, then over the upsweep of her hair. His gaze followed the path of his hand. “How long is it?”

Oh my. How could she possibly regain control if his every word made her mute with anticipation? Dillon lowered his head and kissed her. His fingers tightened on her skull and the kiss gradually grew more intimate until his mouth ate at hers, voracious and invading. Her fingers wrapped over his wrists, not to pull him away, but to hang on. His passion made her almost dizzy. It wasn’t what she was used to. He was too unrestrained, too natural, too much man. The thought made her heart jump.

He drew back slowly, in small degrees, his tongue licking her lips, his teeth nipping. Finally, his forehead rested against hers and she felt the cool, soft sweep of his long hair over her cheek. His sigh fogged the air between them. “Get in the car. I’ll throw your bag in the back and we can get out of here.”

Virginia glanced into the back of the battered truck and saw that the bed was covered by a tarp. “Whose truck is this?”

“Mine. It gets better traction in the snow.” He opened the trunk of her car, pulled out a small overnight case and cautiously picked his way back across the ice. He stowed the bag beneath the tarp while Virginia watched, then he carefully checked to see that her car was locked up tight. She held out her hand for her keys, but he’d already shoved them deep into his jeans pocket.

“Dillon…”

“In you go, honey.” Not giving her a chance to comment on his high-handedness, he lifted her off her feet, then unceremoniously dropped her into the truck.