Snapped (2 page)

Lucy Hudson was
heady, intoxicating, and could make a guy grovel with one teasing glance
through those long, curly lashes. No wonder she was so popular with the guys
down at the station with such seductive signals and a killer body. Especially
if she was as indiscriminate as they made out. And he had no reason to doubt it
so far.

He smiled as the
lift opened on the twenty-second floor and he stepped out. For someone who
claimed to hate cops, she certainly didn't mind passing her favors around to
them.

His smile
vanished. She was hot, but that sort of woman wasn't his type. Not that he went
for the virginal, but he did prefer someone who was a little more selective. Someone
who didn't lust after every other man in his unit.

He'd had enough
of those women.

He inserted the
key the leasing agent had given him into the lock and twisted the doorknob. The
apartment was dark and sparsely furnished with only a couch stretched along a
wall and a large armchair facing it. There were no curtains and he peered out
at the apartment building across the street, and straight at a large breasted
woman. She was wiggling into a tight skirt, her breasts jangling. The man
buckling his belt was John Mollino, building magnate. His suspect.

Nick turned away
from the window, disgusted. For the millionth time since Mollino had complained
to the local cops that a woman was spying on him and his lover, Nick cursed
Lucy Hudson. Dave had assured him it was her—and going by the description and
the woman he'd just met, it was—but he'd wanted to make sure before he warned
her off. Now he'd have to wait another night to catch her in the act. He didn't
want anyone to ruin the investigation—his first since he'd transferred to Morethorn—especially
a nosy little PI who took dirty pictures and had a reputation for enjoying her
work too much.

Nick looked
across at the other apartment again. It was a great position for surveillance
but the Justice department's funds didn't stretch to hiring out expensive
apartments. Blinds on the windows would definitely make them invisible. If Lucy
had been more careful, Mollino would never have known she was there.

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.

CHAPTER
2

Lucy felt hot. Good. For the past six
months, she hadn't been turned on by her work but tonight she was back to her
old self. It was about damn time. Maybe afterwards she'd call up someone and
end this dry spell. There were a few cute guys who'd asked her out lately but
she hadn't taken up their offers. Maybe later...

Who was she kidding? She sighed. She
couldn't do it anymore. She knew, without a doubt, that none of the guys in her
little black book would do. The only man she wanted to end her dry spell was
Detective Nick. She'd thought about him all day. Thought about his tongue
trailing down her breasts, past her belly button. Thought about him inside her,
filling her, giving her the release she craved but hadn't found in way too
long. Hadn't even looked for until yesterday evening when she'd slammed into
him downstairs.

Even now, watching Mollino and his lover,
she was imagining herself and Nick. Only it would be better. As a lover, she
had no doubt he would be amazing, attentive and generous. Something about him
just told her that. Maybe it was his commanding presence, his unwavering
strength, or maybe it was his impressive bulges. He was a man who could give
her what she wanted, needed. If a man could make her skin tingle in
anticipation from one short, fully-clothed meeting, imagine what he could do in
one long, naked night.

Lucy hoped he'd be downstairs again
tonight. If he really was watching her then he would be, although why he'd be
investigating her was a mystery. Usually she dealt with the constables or
sergeants, not detectives.

As Mollino's girlfriend reached her
second orgasm, Lucy had become so hot she had to shed something. Her sweater
felt too warm, too tight so she discarded it. The rough wool grazed against her
arms as it slid to the floor. Cool air sighed against her burning skin. Relief.

She peeked through her camera and clicked
as Mollino took his lover's ample breast into his mouth. Lucy's skin tingled as
she imagined Detective Nick doing that to her. She closed her eyes and touched
her bra-covered breast. She cupped a hand underneath and rubbed around and up. It
wasn't enough. It wasn't Nick's hand. His fingers would be deft. They'd finger
the lacy edge of her bra, like this, and after she begged him to squeeze one,
he'd slowly push his fingers inside the fabric and tease the nipple until it
was raw.

A strangled gasp from the corner of the
room sent a jolt through her and she dropped her hand.

"Who's there?" She picked up
her sweater and clutched it over her breasts. Why bother? Whoever was there
would have already seen everything. She dropped it so she'd have both hands
free. Her gaze swept around the room but apart from the shapes of a chair and
couch, she saw nothing in the darkness.

"Who's there?" she said louder.
She hated hearing the shake in her voice. She swallowed and sized up the camera
and tripod for a weapon. "Show yourself!"

Something stirred in the corner, near the
furniture. A man, tall and broad, stood in silhouette. Lucy's heart leapt to
her throat.

"It's all right," he said. His
voice was low, rugged and familiar. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Lucy straightened and placed her hands on
her hips. "Detective Nick! Come to arrest me?"

He stepped into the moonlight and she
could see the tension in his tight lips. She knew then that he'd seen
everything—and that he was turned on by it. She smiled.

"No," he said quietly. "Warn
you."

"Oh?"

His gaze slid across her breasts then
past her shoulder to the window where Mollino was probably snoozing in a
post-coital haze.

"Warn me away from Mollino?"
she asked. "Since when do detectives follow up on harassment calls?"

His gaze returned to her, remained on her
face for a few seconds then wandered down to her exposed breasts again. She
should be annoyed, or at least embarrassed. But she could only be annoyed and
embarrassed if she was ashamed of her body and didn't want this man to see her
semi-naked. Neither was the case.