She met his gaze reluctantly. “So are you, Gil. So are you.”
He jerked when she said his name. As if her utterance of that single syllable shocked him. Now the frown returned in full force. “I have things to do,” he said gruffly. “Are you all set?”
If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was ready to beat a hasty retreat. “I’m fine,” she said. “How long do I have before we meet Cade for lunch?”
“A couple of hours. He gets a snack at the center, so I made a reservation in the dining room for twelve-thirty. Does that work for you?”
“Of course. And will I be able to come back this afternoon and pick up where I left off?”
“Yes. Feel free to leave everything out. I’ll lock the door when we go to eat, and no one will bother your papers.”
“You’re being very accommodating all of a sudden.”
“I’ve been pretty rough on you,” he admitted, his neutral gaze hard to read. “I know you’re merely doing your job. I don’t like it, but I suppose there’s no point in shooting the messenger.”
She took a step in his direction just as he did the same. Suddenly they were nose to nose in the small office. Her hands fluttered at her sides. “Thank you, Gil. Your cooperation makes my life a lot easier.” She heard the huskiness in her voice and winced inwardly. Her eyes were level with his throat. They stood so close to each other she could see the hint of a dark beard on his firm, sculpted chin.
Without warning, Gil slid his hands beneath her hair, thumbs stroking her neck. He tipped her face up to his, their lips mere centimeters apart. His beautiful eyes teemed with turbulent emotion “You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you, Bailey Collins?”
“Why would you say that?” she asked, knowing full well what he meant but wanting to hear him admit that the attraction wasn’t one-sided.
His lips brushed hers in a caress that could barely even be called a kiss. She leaned into him, wanting more.
But straight-arrow Gil Addison was a tough man. “Women and government are always trouble. When you put both in the same package, there’s likely to be hell to pay.”
Three
Bailey leaned against the desk for a full three minutes after Gil left the room, her legs like spaghetti. She had wanted to know if he had felt it, too, the heated connection between them. Now she had irrevocable proof. It was a wonder the tiny room full of aging paper hadn’t gone up in flames on the spot.
Fanning her hot face with one hand, she reached for her briefcase and pulled out her laptop and portable scanner. It was one thing to contemplate seducing the steely-eyed rancher, but another entirely to realize that all he had to do was touch her and she melted.
She was here to do a job. Before she contemplated any hanky-panky, she needed to get her priorities in order. Fortunately, she had made a plan already, so even though her concentration was shot, she was able to follow through with her agenda.
The method of attack was fairly simple. Using a list of interviews from her earliest days in Royal, she pulled file folders methodically, keeping them in alphabetical order. Though she hadn’t anticipated the complication of not having anything digitized, she would cope. As long as she didn’t do something stupid like knocking a pile of paper off the desk, she should be able to proceed with relative efficiency.
Thirty minutes later she had finished reading through three folders and had developed a throbbing tension headache. She banged her fist against her forehead. Not only was much of the information not typed or organized in any discernible fashion, but the handwritten portions were barely legible.
To call this mess record-keeping was generous. It was impossible to compare one file with the next, because every member’s information was different. Other than an initial sheet that documented simple details such as name, address and date of initial membership, all the other pages were a hodgepodge of business deals, sporting records and family connections.
It took her another half hour, but she finally managed to come up with a spreadsheet that allowed her to input the pertinent items that might be of use in the investigation. Her stomach growled more than once. She hadn’t eaten breakfast, too nervous about meeting Gil again to be very interested in food.
She glanced at her watch and sighed. The minutes crawled by. Perhaps she was bored with the job, or maybe she was looking forward to lunch with Gil and his precocious son. Her distraction didn’t bode well for the days ahead....
* * *
Gil prowled the familiar halls of the club, pausing again and again to greet and chat with men he had known for years, many of them since he was a child at his father’s side. He was comfortable within these walls, centered, content. The Texas Cattleman’s Club had suffered a few growing pains lately, but it would survive and thrive.