“THIS IS RICK WEST, calling for Bedroom Eyes Boudoir Photography. We recently sent you a packet?”
“Yes, I recall that,” Wendy of Wendy’s Weddings replied.
“That’s terrific. We think that tasteful, intimate photographs would enhance your clients’ wedding experience.” Rick couldn’t believe how easily the words boudoir and intimate rolled off his tongue today. He could practically feel the testosterone draining away. “We’d be happy to draft a proposal and meet with you.”
At least Samantha believed in it, so it wasn’t completely stupid. He looked over at her, bent over the scheduling computer. His gaze snagged on the gold locket resting between her breasts, then shifted to the creamy swells that rose and fell with each breath. He craved the sight of her like a cold beer on a hot day. From here he could easily inhale her perfume and hair and warm skin.
He could still hear that raw moan in Mona’s room. He knew how she felt. On top of that, he’d had the royal humiliation of the women knowing he’d stacked wood right there on the table.
Some undercover cop he was.
“Huh? Uh…Oh, you’re interested?” Staring at Samantha’s chest, he’d missed Wendy’s response. “We’d be happy to do that,” he said, recovering. “Absolutely. When can we meet?” He pushed his chair over to Samantha, making the counter shift a little. He’d have to fix the damn thing one of these days.
“How interested is she?” Samantha whispered.
He shot her a thumb way up.
She silently clapped her hands, then bent to click through the scheduler while he called out dates, the locket dangling before his eyes.
When he hung up from Wendy, Samantha beamed. “If we score this account, you should get a commission.”
She’d told him hooking up with wedding planners was a key component of her marketing plan, and this was the first successful callback he’d made since he’d started working for her four days ago.
“I’m just doing what you pay me for.” Except his real job included eavesdropping on every phone call, snapping shots of passing perps, assessing every word she said for lies.
Screw it. Right now, the Wendy’s Weddings meeting felt more important than a closed case and he didn’t care what that said about how good a cop he was.
Samantha was adding a note to the appointment, keying in the address, and he sat there, watching her, unable to move away. He zeroed in on that damnable locket, hanging in the air over her chest. It was the size of a silver dollar, carved with leaves and flowers. “You wear that a lot.” He braced it against his palm.
“Every day.” She backed away so the locket slipped off his palm and bumped softly against her breastbone. Whatever was inside, she didn’t want to talk about. “I’d better get busy on the proposal.”
“Sure,” he said and found himself staring at where she’d gone for long seconds after she’d disappeared.
The front door buzzed and he turned back to see Valerie standing there. “Sammi busy?” She looked excited.
“She’s in her office.”
She rushed past him and he waited a few seconds before following her to see what was going on.
“The stuff’s here, Sammi,” he heard her say. “I want you to sample it before I agree to sell it.”
Sample it? He doubted it was anything illegal, but he had to be certain. He listened in the hall, waiting for the women to exit out the service door, then followed, cracking the door in time to see them step behind a white panel truck, parked beside the Dumpster—away from prying eyes or just for shade?
A woman opened the back door, which blocked all three from his view. He figured out a question to ask in case they heard him approach, then moved silently toward the truck.
“If you’re going to sell this stuff, Val, don’t waste any on me,” Samantha was saying when he got close enough to hear.
“There’s plenty more where that came from.” The seller.
Paper rustled, then Samantha said, “Mmm.”
His next step crunched gravel, so he knew he’d have to make his presence known. With the fleeting hope he wouldn’t catch Samantha with a coke spoon up her nose, he rounded the van in time to see her wrap her lips around the head of a penis on a stick. It was Pepto-Bismol pink and she bit the tip clear off.
Ouch. He resisted the urge to protect his ’nads.
Beside her, Valerie nibbled on a cream-colored breast with a pink nipple, also on a stick. The seller was holding out a small pastry box.
“Hey, Rick,” Samantha said, chewing slowly, holding up what was left of the cock. “Care for a taste?”