for his hat. Now the brim shadowed his eyes.
Bailey was not immune to the picture he made. In well-washed denims that rode low on his hips and molded to his long, muscular legs, he was a walking, talking ad for testosterone. His chamois shirt must have been hand-tailored, because it managed to accommodate his broad shoulders nicely. Gil Addison was the real deal, right down to his expensive, though scuffed, leather boots.
Bailey felt the physical pull. Acknowledged it. Experienced a pang of regret for something that would never be. It had been a long time since she had met a man so appealing. But Gil didn’t much like her, and her newest assignment was not going to improve matters.
With an inward sigh for her barren love life, she cut to the chase. “I need access to the membership files at the Texas Cattleman’s Club.”
“Absolutely not.” He bowed up almost visibly.
Bailey leaned against the porch railing, her hands behind her. It was either that or fasten them around Gil’s tanned neck and squeeze. The man was infuriating. “I have all the necessary warrants and paperwork,” she said mildly. “But I’d prefer not to go in guns blazing. Why don’t you be a gentleman for once and politely invite me to the club as your guest?”
The word he muttered made her wince. “I’m the president of the TCC,” he pointed out...as if she didn’t already know. His scowl was black. “People trust me with their secrets. How is it going to look if I turn all that over to an outsider?”
That last jab hurt, but Bailey held her ground. “You don’t really have a choice...even if you do have a judge or two tucked away in your back pocket. These orders come down from on high. I’m going to comb through those files one way or another. You can either make my life miserable or you can cooperate. Your choice. But I will get the information I need.”
Two
Gil ripped his hat from his head and ran a hand across his damp brow. It was January, damn it. No reason in the world the heat and humidity should be this bad.
Bailey, on the other hand, despite wearing an unflattering suit jacket, seemed cool and collected. She watched him warily, as if he were a dangerous rattlesnake about to bite.
What she didn’t know was that he had fantasized about nibbling her...all the way from her delicate jawline to the vulnerable place where her throat disappeared inside that boring blouse. His body tightened. The woman probably had no idea that her no-nonsense clothing revved his engine. Instead of focusing on the government-employee quasi uniform, he imagined stripping it off her and baring that long, lean body to his gaze.
His sex thickened and lifted, making his jeans uncomfortably tight. With a silent curse, he stared out across the acres of land that belonged to him as far as the eye could see. Searching desperately for a diversion, he fell back on the universal topic of weather.
“Are you familiar with the Civil War general Philip Sheridan?” he asked, keeping his body half-turned to avoid embarrassing them both.
Bailey wrinkled her nose. “History wasn’t my strong suit in school, but yes...I’ve heard of him.”
“After the war, Sheridan was assigned to a post in south Texas. It’s reported he said that if he owned Texas and hell, he would rent out Texas and live in hell.”
“I’m surprised you would mention it. I thought it was heresy to insult the mother ship. All you native Texans are pretty arrogant.”
“We have reason to be...despite the heat,” he added ruefully, replacing his hat and wanting desperately to wrap this up before he pounced on her.
“So I’m to believe that everything in Texas is bigger and better?”
Shock immobilized him. Was Bailey flirting with him? Surely not. He glanced over his shoulder at her. As far as he could tell, nothing in her demeanor was the least bit sexual. Too bad. “Yes,” he said curtly. “I thought you would know that, being from Dallas.”
“I’m not from Dallas. My dad was in the army. We lived all over the world. Dallas is where I’m assigned at the moment.”
“So where do you call home?”
Seconds passed. Two, maybe three. For a brief moment he saw bleak regret in her brown-eyed gaze. “Not anywhere, really.”
Such rootlessness was hard for him to imagine. Texas was as much a part of his lifeblood as breathing. Sensing her unease with the topic, he turned to face her, at last somewhat in control of himself. “Well,” he said laconically, “at least if you weren’t born here, you came as soon as you could.”
Bailey, arms wrapped around her waist, smiled. “I guess you could say that.”
He pursed his lips. “Apparently, I have no choice about your interference. Is that what you’re telling me?” The facts of the matter still stuck in his craw.
“You’ve got it.” Though seeing him admit defeat must have pleased her, Bailey’s expression remained neutral.
“Very well. Meet me at the club at ten in the morning. I’ll show you where to get started.”
“I’m a highly trained computer specialist, Gil. I shouldn’t have to take up more than a week of your life.”
Too bad. He glanced at his watch. “Come say goodbye to Cade.”
In his office, he watched, perturbed, as once again his son lit up at seeing their visitor.
Gil’s son beamed. “I unlocked three more levels, Bailey.”
She nodded. “Good for you.”
Cade looked at his dad. “Are you gonna call her Bailey?”
“I suppose I will,” Gil admitted. “She’s going to be around for a while.”
Cade grinned charmingly. “That’s good.”
Gil pinched the boy’s ear. “Behave, brat. I don’t need your help finding women.”
Bailey’s face turned crimson, affording Gil a definite sense of satisfaction. It was fine by him if she felt uncomfortable. It was only fair. She was messing with his life from stem to stern in all sorts of ways. Not the least of which was his recalcitrant libido. The sooner she finished what she had to do and left town, the better.
* * *
Bailey arrived at the Texas Cattleman’s Club fifteen minutes early the following morning. A heat wave still held the area in an unseasonable grip. Though by no means reaching the brutal temperatures of July and August, the day was plenty warm. Which meant that the winter clothing Bailey had brought with her was stifling.
Deciding she could maintain a professional demeanor without her blazer, she stripped it off and laid it carefully in the backseat of the car. Rolling up the sleeves of her white silk blouse, she breathed a sigh of relief as she immediately felt cooler.
In all honesty, part of her warmth stemmed from the prospect of facing Gil Addison again. Gil was in the clear as far as the investigation went, but she was going to have to work with him to some extent in order to do her job. The fact that she was attracted
