Love on the Boardwalk (11 page)

“Me, too.” Even though the whole meet had gone even better than expected. The one thing Trina had always excelled at, no matter what career she dabbled in, was connecting with people. That particular trait seemed to do the trick in this investigation business.

“Now what? You’ve got free rein to snoop around at the club. What’s your plan? Hide behind a plant and peek over Ralph’s shoulder all day, trying to read his text messages?”

That had occurred to her as an option, but given Darcy’s smirk, Trina kept it to herself. “I think the strippers are probably the weak link. There are four I’ve seen making lots of extra trips past his table. I’ll start with them.”

Darcy linked arms and pulled her out of the room. “How about we start with some salt-water taffy?”

Yum. Trina stroked her chin, pretending to give the suggestion deep consideration. Who said stakeout food had to be all beef jerky and pizza? Why not bring her own touches to every aspect of the job? In fact, that would be a great side business to start up down the line. Stakeout snacks! “It isn’t the stereotypical P.I. food, but I know how important it is to keep my partner happy.”

“Trina, do you think someday we can do a vacation without snooping?”

“Where would the fun be in that?”

Chapter Nine

Brad stood in the shoulder-to-shoulder crowds at the hallway intersection between the casino, the restaurants, and the elevator bank. His watch said it was too-damn-early-o’clock to head up to his room. He’d scarfed down a plate of nachos, so dinner was out, at least for a while. The casino didn’t appeal to him. Neither did the aging B-lister about to rock out in the auditorium. Here he was, in an adult playground, without anything to do. God, could he be more pathetic? Even the damned animatronic seagulls overhead seemed to be mocking him with their carefully timed squawks. It wouldn’t surprise him a bit if a real one flew in and crapped on his head. ’Cause this day was officially in the shitter.

He stumbled forward a couple of steps as somebody tackled him from behind. Reflexively, Brad bent at the waist to toss the assailant over his head to the floor. At the last second, he caught a whiff of flowers and vanilla. Trina. He dropped to his knees to prevent her from sailing forward and pulled her around with one arm. She squeaked. He rolled to his back to protect her. Brad’s head connected—hard—with the thank-God-it’s-carpeted floor. They ended up with Trina splayed across him. Applause and laughter came from the crowd circled around them.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.

“Of course. You saved me. Sweet move, by the way. Think you can teach it to me?”

“I didn’t save you. I almost knocked you out.”

“Almost knocked yourself out instead, I see.” Trina gently probed the side of his skull. Brad hissed out a breath between his teeth. There’d be a knot there by morning. At least the pain distracted him from the feeling of Trina laid out on top of him. Mostly. “Sorry about that. I forgot to factor in your well-honed police instincts.”

“Why the hell did you jump me?” He’d blame his crappy mood, the throbbing in his head and the quickly growing throbbing in his dick for his curt response. But for God’s sake, the woman was only wearing a bathrobe. How was he supposed to function at all while he ran his hands over the plush covering of her curves? He really didn’t need an audience to watch him tent out his pants at her proximity. Brad sat up abruptly. Lifted Trina to her feet as he stood, then jammed his hands in his pockets.

She beamed at him. Beamed with eyes that were freaking disco balls of joy. “Because I’m glad I found you. And I’m happy to see you.”

What? She’d stormed off. Left him alone to brood on all the ways he’d screwed up with her. “I thought we were fighting.”

“We were. How long did you expect it to last, though?” Trina picked up another bathrobe and a big bag from where she must’ve dropped them before launching herself at him. “Life’s too short to spend more than a day with a stick up my ass just because we don’t agree on something.”

That was...unexpected. A refreshing change of pace. Just like everything he discovered about Trina. Dana used to give him the silent treatment for weeks on end after an argument. His sister Melanie stalked around with her nose out of joint for at least a couple of days if he pissed her off. He’d often wondered why women didn’t seem to shake things off as fast as men. Get mad, and get on with it. That’s how guys dealt with their issues. Guys...and Trina, apparently. And it worked for him. Yeah, he was falling for her—hard and fast.

“Why were you looking for me?”

Trina took his arm and steered him down the hallway. “Coop and Darcy said you bailed on dinner with them.”

“I didn’t want to intrude on their—”

“Cloying, disgusting love bubble?”

“I was going to say engagement celebration, but yeah, you nailed it.” Brad was glad he’d gotten to witness the proposal. After all, he and Coop did almost everything together. The googly-eyed aftermath, however, he didn’t so much need to see.

“I don’t believe you. I think you had a different reason for going solo tonight.”

“Don’t tell me. One of your two dozen different careers was as a psychic?”

“Of course not. Being a psychic requires natural talent and powers far out of my reach.”

She cracked him up. Even with the knot on his head, Brad’s mood lightened. He knew it was all due to Trina. A guy could get used to her sunny disposition. Who was he kidding? He was already used to it. Brad felt like a million dollars when she beamed at him with so much joy just at his mere presence. “So why do you think you can read my mind?”

“I can’t. But I can read a calendar. Today’s Saturday. This was supposed to be your wedding day, right?”

Nailed it yet again. “Yeah.”

“You feel conflicted? Depressed, but not exactly sad about Dana being gone? Guilty at not being as upset as you think you should be? Sulking because you can’t think of anything better to do?”

They squeezed into an elevator. Judging from the matching orange dresses and guys with boutonnieres, the rest of the people in there belonged to a wedding party. Great. Just what he needed. Brad wouldn’t be surprised if, when the doors opened, they tripped over a trolley holding a four-tiered wedding cake.

“Let’s just say I can’t figure out what to do with myself tonight.”

She dug a finger into his ribs. “Do you want to mope?”

“No.” Brad swatted her hand away. He didn’t want to be tickled either. But he was glad as hell she’d tracked him down.

“Good.” Trina angled her head to look up at him. Her lashes fluttered halfway down as a sultry shield to those playful eyes. “Wanna have sex?”

Holy shit. Was she serious? He’d expected that getting to that step was going to drag out longer. That she’d make him wait until they got back home and had a couple of official dinner dates under their belts. Not that Brad would’ve minded. He’d already decided that Trina was worth the wait. That he was crazy about her and wanted more than just a vacation fling. But
not
waiting was even better.

The trio of girls crammed in behind them giggled. “I sure as hell do,” muttered the groomsman closest to them.

One of the girls reached forward to smack his arm. “Shut up, Ronald. Can’t you see they’re having a moment?”

The other groomsman snorted. “You’ll be lucky if the flower girl dances with you tonight, Ron.”

During all of it, Brad held her gaze, trying to assess if she was going for shock value or an actual orgasm. Thankfully, the doors opened and the bridal party all got out. Brad waited in silence until the doors shut again. Then he caged her in against the doors with his arms. Pressed against her so she could feel his obvious, insta-hard response. “That better not be a hypothetical question. ’Cause I’ve got a very real answer for you.”

Trina skimmed a finger around the rim of his ear. “The way I see it, there’s nothing that could distract you better than sex.”

Oh no. Hell, no. Brad had thought that getting his engagement ring returned was the low point of his life. But he’d been wrong. It took the smiling, twinkly superpowers of Trina Trimble to drag him along rock bottom. Brad turned to lean against the mirrored wall. Slammed his palm flat on it once, then curled his fingers into a fist.

“So you just offered me a pity fuck?” He forced the words out between gritted teeth.

As if things weren’t bad enough, Trina laughed. And kept laughing. Laughing so hard that she bent in half and braced her hands on her knees for support. When the doors dinged again, Brad rushed past her. He didn’t know what floor they’d hit. Didn’t care, either.

“Brad, wait.”

He spun around to see the laughter gone from her face. Good. Because he damn well wouldn’t be the butt of her joke. “For what? Is the next big surprise that you hired one of your stripper friends to service me for the night? Is she waiting to laugh at me, too?”

Trina put a hand on his chest, almost as if to hold him in place. “I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing at the idea of any woman being with you out of pity.” She used both hands to stroke across his pecs, then down his biceps. “Brad, you’re smoking hot. Women’s tongues loll out of their mouths when you walk by. You’ve got the build of an underwear model. You’re loyal and brave and dedicated. You don’t pull any punches. And you’ve got the whole sexy cop, badge and gun thing going for you, like the cherry on top of a sundae. A pity fuck? I’ve never heard of anything so stupid.”

The tight line of her lips was unusually serious for Trina. It was good enough for him. Mostly. But he didn’t just want a one-night stand, either. Not because Coop would ream him a new one if that occurred. Brad was too old for hook-ups. And he liked Trina too damn much. He’d rather take another ten seconds and be cautious—and still be able to joke with her at Coop and Darcy’s wedding six months down the road—than spoil everything with a fast fuck.

“Just so you know going in,” he warned her in a low rasp, “this isn’t going to be a one-time thing. It’s going to take all night. And then we’re going to keep going.”

She rolled her eyes. “Finally we’re on the same page. I thought we were already headed pretty far down that road. Because of all the reasons I just listed. And because when your tongue touches any and every part of my body, I melt from the inside out.”

That worked. He dipped his head in a slow nod, already fantasizing about what to do to her and how many times to do it. “Okay.”

“Oh, it had better be about twelve notches beyond just okay,” Trina teased. “This may be my idea, but you’ve still got to bring the goods. I’ve been fantasizing about you since June. Don’t let me down.”

“Don’t worry,” he growled. Brad grabbed her hand, intent on getting back to the elevator and up to his room as soon as possible. If the damn thing didn’t come within three seconds, he’d carry her up the stairs. He’d scale the outside of the building like King Kong, if that’s what it took to get her naked and horizontal.

“You’re going the wrong way.”

He pressed the elevator. Then, even though it was pointless, drilled his finger into it fast five more times. “Trina, we need a bed. Now.”

“I’ve got something better planned. This is why I came looking for you.” She dug into her pocket and produced a key card. Which looked identical to his room key. He already had a king-sized bed. Clean sheets. Just how did she expect to improve on that? “Come with me.”

They’d barely made it five steps before she waved the key in front of the sensor by the glass doors to the hotel spa.

Brad looked left, right, and then up to where he’d spotted a security camera. “We can’t go in—they’re closed for the night.”

“Not to us. I pulled some strings with one of the girls from Club Eden who works some shifts here. The place is ours for the night.” Trina opened the door. Pinpoint lights shone down on the wall of products, but otherwise the waiting area was dark. She thrust the wadded-up bathrobe at him. Pointed at the frosted glass door with a giant M. “Go change into something more comfortable and meet me in the common area just off the locker rooms.”

Technically, it couldn’t be breaking and entering if she had the key. But it seemed too easy. He didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth—just as much as he didn’t want hotel security wrestling him to the ground in five minutes. “You sure this is safe? Is some alarm going to go off?”

“Just the smoke alarm. If we heat things up enough.” And then she sashayed off, twirling the tie to her robe.

Brad couldn’t remember ever stripping so fast. He didn’t spare a second glance at the banks of wooden lockers. Just dropped his clothes in a pile where he shed them. Then frantically picked his pants back up to scrabble for a condom. Checked both pockets and his wallet three times. No go. Because apparently, when you were a moping putz not celebrating your non-wedding day, you forgot the most basic male necessity of all. Brad slammed his hands down on the dark blue marble counter. God, he was an idiot.

Then, because Karma had finally realized she’d kicked Brad in the nuts for long enough, he looked down and discovered a tray of stuff. Combs, shaving cream, razors, three kinds of cologne, mouthwash and yes, a huge fishbowl full of condoms. Whatever this spa charged, it wasn’t enough. He grabbed one. Laughed at himself for almost being an idiot again, and stuffed another three in the pocket of his robe. Since it was there, he swished back a hit of mouthwash.

This time when he looked in the mirror, every trace of the left-almost-at-the-altar man who’d looked back at him for the past few months was gone. The old Brad wasn’t back, either. This was a new Brad. One who’d learned from his mistakes with Dana, since he absolutely knew he shouldered at least part of the blame for the breakup. One who was ready to go out there and give his new girl the time of her life.

So, to be safe, he pocketed a fifth condom, then hustled out of the locker room.

It had the feel of being underwater. The tiles on the floor and the walls were midnight blue. The bubbling spa big enough to hold his entire division—not that he wanted to picture those guys lounging together in a tub—burbled in the corner. Piped in ocean waves crashed through the hidden speakers. Trina was nowhere to be seen. But there was a wisp of steam trailing near the glass door. Being a trained detective, he took a guess and yanked it open.

A blast of eucalyptus-scented steam smacked him in the face. Brad couldn’t see anything. All the tiles in here were dark, too, and the lighting almost non-existent. But he could feel the bare foot that reached out to caress his calf. Jackpot.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you trust me to steam things up for you?” He sank onto the slick tiled bench and waited.

Toes tickled the back of his knee. “Oh, I fully expect you to make my eyes cross before you even get inside me. But I know I sprang this on you. I’m giving you time to relax and catch up. Steam gets you loose.”

“Sweetheart, I am the opposite of loose.”

“Well, it’ll get me loose.” A soft, tentative giggle. “I’m a little nervous.”

That was an emotion he’d never have associated with Trina. Brassy, ballsy, but not bashful at all. “Why?”

“I’ve been thinking about what this would be like. I’m worried you’re getting the short end of the stick with me. You’re a drop-dead hunk of a man. Coop told us how you rolled through women before you got engaged. You can have any woman you want. Any beautiful, accomplished woman who’d be a great match for you. One with a college degree, for example. At best, I’m the cute one. The perky, fun girl. Cute and perky’s no good when you want to rip a guy’s briefs off with your teeth.”