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Authors: Kendra Little

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As soon as the complaint was made and the Fraud Squad notified, all the
detectives had guessed Lucy was the spy. It hadn't taken long for the lewd
comments about "Juicy Lucy" to reach him. Dave offered to check it
out and warn her off personally but it was Nick's case and he wanted to do the
leg work himself.

He'd been too late tonight. She'd rented the place for the entire week,
so maybe she'd return tomorrow. He'd come round earlier next time, give her a
chance to incriminate herself.

The following day, Nick typed up his report and knocked on the Chief's
door. The square, fifty-something man poured over a pile of papers, a stack of
used coffee cups on one corner of his desk. He didn't look up when Nick slapped
the report down in front of him.

"Dante," he growled, "what's happening with this
case?"

"Not much. Lucy Hudson's getting in the way but I'm onto it."

The Chief finally looked up. Deep lines crossed his forehead and dark
circles hung like sacks beneath his eyes. He looked like he could do with
another pot of coffee. "I bet you are." He picked up Nick's report
and scanned the first page. "Lucy's becoming a pest. Get rid of her."

Nick crossed his arms. "I don't know why Mollino doesn't give his
wife a divorce so he can sleep with anyone he wants. It's a waste of time
making sure the PI she employs doesn't ruin our investigation."

Chief watched him for a beat and Nick thought he was about to get
chewed out.

"Because he can't afford to lose half his assets."

"Can't afford to or doesn't want to?"

"Is there a difference?"

Nick shrugged. "Sneaking around seems like a lot of hassle when he
could just get a nice clean divorce."

"There's no such thing as a nice clean divorce."

Didn't Nick know it. His own had been messier than a bar room brawl. It
usually was when one party slept around. With the benefit of hindsight, he
blamed himself, even though he wasn't the one who'd cheated. Cleo blamed him
too. She'd hated the amount of hours he devoted to his work and she'd slept
around to make her point. She got his attention all right, especially when he
found her naked in their bed with his partner.

"Dante," growled the Chief, "catch Lucy in the act, then
warn her to stay away from Mollino. Arrest her if you have to."

Nick left the Chief shaking his head over his report. He'd best pull
his finger out this time. Last night he'd assumed too much—that Lucy
would like the show and stick around to watch. He wasn't going to listen to the
guys anymore.

Nick sat in the moonlit twenty-second floor Southbank apartment
listening to his watch tick. From the wingback armchair, he didn't have a view
of the front door or of Mollino's apartment across the street. The only thing
he got to look at was the couch and the wall. Perfect.

A key rattled in the door and he felt a rush of anticipation. He liked
this part, the moments before a sting when every nerve zapped with energy and
anything could happen.

He heard the door open and Lucy entered. At least, he assumed it was
Lucy. He couldn't see her so he couldn't be one hundred percent sure, but every
sense confirmed it. The smell of her jasmine perfume, the light step of someone
her size. She placed the tripod on the carpet, the feet making a muffled
whump,
whump, whump
. Lenses whirred and a series of clicks echoed through the
apartment in time to his thudding heart. Suddenly there was silence, and he
sensed that she was waiting too. Just as long as she waited near the window and
didn't wander around the room, he was safe.

"Ah, there you are," she said.

Nick froze and closed his eyes. Damn. Had she sensed him too?

But she didn't move and he realized she was talking to herself as she
watched Mollino through the window. He silently let out a held breath and
rolled his eyes to the ceiling.
Get a grip, Dante
.

"And there's your little floozy."
The light modular tones of her voice floated around him, through him. Imagine
that voice whispering her wildest fantasies...

"Mmmm, nice thong," she murmured.
Click
. "Special order by the looks of it. Maybe I should get the
name of your supplier."
Click
.

Nick leaned towards the soft cadence,
rested his elbow on the arm of the chair and smoothed his fingertips over his
lips.

"Hell knows, I need something to get
me going again."
Click
.

Get her going again? What did that mean? From
all accounts, she wasn't the type who needed much winding up to perform. Maybe
she was going through a slump. He smiled into his fingers. Cute little vixens
like Lucy Hudson don't have slumps.

"That's it, take it off," she
murmured. "Oh yeah, nice."

Nick swallowed. This was turning into a
very bad idea. He was growing hard just listening to her. If her voice alone
could do this to him, imagine what the rest of her would do.

"Mmmm, I like that. Show Lucy what
you've got."

He wished he could. Staying hidden in the
chair was torture. All he wanted to do was leap out, kiss her, take her right
there on the floor. Oh hell. He wasn't supposed to lose it so easily.

"She likes that." Her breath came
in ragged gasps. "So do I."

Nick closed his eyes and concentrated on
breathing. But the sound of Lucy shedding her jacket drew them open again as if
he'd be able to see her striptease. Maybe if he sat forward, leaned around the
chair a little, he would... A round rear-end greeted his view and he couldn't
tear his gaze away. His fingers twitched, aching to grab her and pull that pert
derriere into his lap.

She rubbed her palms down thighs clad in figure-hugging black pants,
reminding him that his own were sweaty. He wiped them on the arms of the chair,
but it didn't help. Drops of sweat formed at his temple and above his lip, as
he watched Lucy photographing the show in the other apartment.

"Nice move," she said, her voice
thick. She was turned on by the show. He was turned on by her.

She sighed and plucked at the front of her
tight zippered top above her breasts. Yeah, the temperature in the apartment
had hit boiling point. Sweat trickled down his neck under his collar and he
loosened his tie further because he was in danger of choking or sweltering to
death.

As he watched, Lucy bent to look through
the camera again. "Now you're talking." The sound of a long zipper
being drawn down filled the silence. With a seductive twist of her shoulders, her
top fell to the floor in a heap. She was naked from the waist up except for her
black bra. Moonlight kissed the smooth skin of shoulder and back, fine-boned
and feminine but with lean muscle skimming beneath the pale surface.

Nick's pulse drummed out his desire like a
tribal beat. Now he knew why the guys all clamored for any job where Lucy
Hudson was involved. He was only a few feet away from her and he dared not
move, dared not breathe. But it was hell on his nerves to stay hidden when his
groin ached to be freed.

 

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