“Ready and willing,” she blurted, feeling her face heat up.
Okay, so she needed a little more champagne. Problem was, she had no idea how many glasses would produce the desired confidence without bringing with it the stumbling drunkenness she hoped to avoid. Too bad alcoholic beverages didn’t come with recommended dosages like prescription medications. For increased confidence, take three eight-ounce servings every four to six hours.
But they didn’t, so she realized her plan had a big chance of backfiring. Especially since she normally didn’t drink. Lucy had heard all about Claire’s drunken escapades, though, so she knew it was an accepted thing for party girls to drink a little too much champagne now and again. If things got out of hand, she could always explain it away later as her way of getting rid of the stress of the workweek.
As Judd pulled out of her apartment building’s parking lot, Lucy downed her third glass, and a few minutes later she was wrapped in a fuzzy sense of well-being the likes of which she couldn’t remember. It occurred to her as she peered at her tantalizing driver from across the darkened cab that her plan needed another step to be complete.
Seduce Judd Walker. What the heck. If she could pick any birthday present in the world, at that moment he was what she most wanted.
She wanted to touch him, to taste him, to feel their limbs tangled together in bed. She wanted to make love to him all night, then wake up and do it again in the morning. It was the most outrageous idea she’d ever had. And possibly the most brilliant.
She opened the box of chocolates, picked one out, and took a big, sinful bite.
JUDD DIDN’T HAVE REASON yet to suspect Lucy was anything but a woman taking a vacation. He realized with a little pang of guilt that he’d already let his attraction to her cloud his reasoning. He didn’t want her to be guilty of anything clandestine.
Before calling in Judd to investigate, Mason had figured out on his own that all the sabotage so far had taken place while employees of the Sunny Horizons Travel Agency, where Lucy worked, were staying at the ranch. And he’d made that connection because the travel agency was owned by the same corporation that owned the resort’s biggest competitor, the Oasis Spa and Resort, also the same corporation run by Mason’s slightly psycho ex-girlfriend.
It sounded more than a little far-fetched to Judd, but he had to agree with his brother that it was all they had to go on so far.
Judd peered over at Lucy for a moment, wondering if she’d had enough to drink yet to get loose-lipped and slip him some helpful information. “You enjoy being a travel agent?”
“How did you know what kind of work I do?”
“I did my homework, checked out your guest bio. Said you’re celebrating your birthday, right?”
“Right. What’s there to celebrate? Getting another year closer to death?”
“Gee, you look like you’re all of what? Twenty-four, twenty-five years old? I’d say you better invest in a burial plot now before it’s too late.”
She laughed softly. “You get paid to say nice things like that.”
“So how old are you?”
“Twenty-nine, as of tomorrow.”
“Why the bad attitude?” He heard the sound of more champagne being poured into her glass. “I’m almost thirty-one, and trust me, it’s not as bad as it sounds.”
“This is sort of a forced celebration. I wasn’t planning to go on the trip, even after I found you handcuffed to my headboard.”
He hadn’t been a tempting-enough invitation? Judd considered that his first impression of her as a wild party girl might not have been totally accurate. Some of the facts formed a different picture—Lucy’s sedately decorated apartment, her worry over whether to pack vitamins, her affection for her two overweight cats. The contrasts formed a puzzle he could hardly wait to solve.
“Your friend Claire’s the enforcer?”
“Yep.”
“What made you change your mind and come with me?”
She was silent for several moments, and he began to think she wasn’t going to answer, but then she said with a little laugh, “The cats. Definitely the cats.”
“I guarantee you won’t regret coming.” What the hell did he say that for? He made it sound as if he personally was going to ensure that she had a great time.
“How did you get involved in this field?” she asked.
“This field?”
“I mean, did you set out to work at a resort?”
“No, I just sort of stumbled on the job. Mason offered it, and I accepted.”
She probably thought he was an air-headed male bimbo using his body to get by in life. He wasn’t sure why that bothered him so much, but it did. He’d worked hard to make his private investigation business a success and was a damn good cop before that. Whatever he accomplished in life, he didn’t want to do it relying on his looks.
Judd took a mental inventory of all the ridiculous things Mason had told him would be part of his “duties.” To be able to watch Lucy in a variety of settings, his brother had given him the job of fill-in, which meant he went wherever help was needed, or more accurately, wherever Mason decided he would be needed at the moment.
Mostly, he was supposed to hover nearby in the guise of making sure Lucy was happy, watching her for clues of her involvement in a plot to ruin the ranch. During the times when she wanted to be left to herself, he had to keep up the facade of being a regular employee by performing a few of the other duties. Duties he’d hotly protested, such as leading karaoke, making sure the nightclub stayed hopping at all hours of the night and joining in the “wet boxers” contest when there weren’t enough entrants…Judd gripped the leather steering wheel tighter as his temper flared.
When Mason had bought a failing resort and claimed he’d wanted to turn it into an adults-only playground, Judd thought it was a stupid idea. But his brother was confident that the Fantasy Ranch would be a sure moneymaker, and he’d been right. Judd still couldn’t understand the appeal of the place, especially not when things got out of hand as often as they did. Mason, however, thrived on the constant challenge.
It quickly became clear that Lucy wasn’t much of a drinker. The champagne had gone straight to her head, and now when she spoke, her words slurred together slightly. When he’d glanced over at her a few minutes earlier, she’d been listing to the right in her seat, as if they were going around a sharp curve, but the road was dead straight. Judd was about to ask her if she’d had enough to drink when a low, soft moan came from her side of the Suburban. And another moan, this time louder.
His body responded primitively, and he shifted in his seat, afraid to look over to see what exactly was the cause of the moaning.
“This is incredible,” she said, a little breathless.
Judd took a quick mental inventory. The leather seats? They were comfortable, but not moan-worthy. The scenery? It was pitch-black outside. Must have been the champagne then. But why the delayed reaction?
And then he caught the scent of chocolate in the air. She’d tried another one, and as he glanced over, he saw her head tilt back and her eyes close in silent rapture. She had a streak of chocolate on her lower lip.
“You’re a big chocolate fan, huh?”
“I am now.” She bit into another truffle and groaned deep in her throat.
“Something special about those chocolates?”
“It’s just that,” she said with her mouth full, pausing to swallow, “I really never eat chocolate. So many empty calories, such high fat content—”