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“You can have my tent tonight,” Jeff said, his voice cutting through Willa’s torturous thoughts.
She looked up in astonishment. “No, I couldn’t do that.” She clamped down on her lip, regretting the words the instant they slipped out of her mouth. Of course she could! “Where would you sleep?” she asked softly, and berated herself for sounding like the cream puff Jeff believed her to be.
“Out here under the stars. I’ll keep watch for the predators.”
She glared at him, certain he was laughing at her. She could even see the laughter dancing in his eyes.
“Unless, of course, you’d rather keep watch,” he said. “I understand you’re pretty good with your feet.”
“No, that’s quite all right. You’ve seen one star, you’ve seen them all. But, thanks, I’ll take you up on the tent offer.”
“My pleasure.” He leaned close, his warm breath tickling her ear and sending shivers straight down her spine. “Maybe in the morning you’ll tell me exactly what you’re doing here, Blondie.”
CYNTHIA COOKE
Nine years ago, Cynthia Cooke lived a quiet, peaceful life, caring for her eighteen-month-old daughter, until she gave birth to boy/girl twins. Hip-deep in diapers and baby food, peacefulness gave way to chaos. She kept her sanity by reading romance novels and dreamed of someday writing one. She counts her blessings every day as she fulfills her dreams with the help of good friends, a supportive husband and three wild children who constantly keep her laughing and her world spinning. Luck and a Prayer is her debut novel.
Luck and a Prayer
Cynthia Cooke
www.millsandboon.co.uk
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.
—Ecclesiastes 3:4
To my friends: Gail Ranstrom, Nina Bruhns, Michele Hauf and Pat White. You are the best!
Hugs to the ABC kids to being the great kids you are, and to my own hunky hero, Dale, for your unwavering support and encouragement throughout the years. I love you all.
A special thanks to Kim Nadelson and Tracy Farrell for believing in Luck and a Prayer and making this author’s dreams come true.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Letter to Reader
Chapter One
Detective Willa Barrett stifled a groan as jolts of pain gnawed at her calves and moved up her spine. Grimacing, she shifted slightly, but stayed crouched behind the kitchen counter, not daring to move or make a sound.
Why Jack would bring someone in here at 9:00 a.m. was beyond her, especially after one of his late-night parties. Luckily, her brother Johnny had just left; otherwise, she’d have a hard time explaining why a “paying customer” was sleeping in the spare room.
“Nice, isn’t it?” Jack Paulson boomed from the other side of the counter. “One of our best. You’ll be rooming with Blondie,” he told the woman. “She’ll take good care of you. Teach you everything you need to know.”
No doubt. Willa barely resisted snorting aloud. A roommate would make her farce of “working” all that more difficult. Now she’d actually have to take the other undercover cops into her room with her. A thought she didn’t relish, since there wasn’t one of them she could tolerate. Straining her ears, she tried to determine exactly where Jack and the woman were positioned.
She gnawed her bottom lip and rubbed her injured arm. She couldn’t afford to get caught spying on Jack again. The captain had ordered her to go home and take care of her arm, but had she? No. Instead she’d hurried back to the strip dressed in purple sequins and tassels, swinging her hips in her exaggerated “Blondie” mode. Left and right she’d swung, calling to motorists, winking, hawking her feminine wares, clattering down Sunset Boulevard in five-inch spiked heels.
The same heels that were torturing her calf muscles now as she adjusted her weight from one hip to the other in her cramped position behind the counter. She had one last shot to get the goods on Jack Paulson and she wasn’t about to lose it because the captain had gotten squeamish over a sprained arm and pulled her off the case. She couldn’t worry about that now; right now the only thing that mattered was nailing Jack Paulson.
Willa turned on the special Pen Cam Johnny had acquired and inched it onto the counter behind a pot of African violets. The amazing little thing looked just like a standard ink pen, but in actuality was a self-contained video and audio outfit. It must have cost Johnny a pretty penny, but he was as anxious to put Mr. Slimebag Paulson behind bars as she was. They both had good reason.
Adjusting the Pen Cam’s position, she hunkered back down. Perhaps now she should make her way back to the bedroom where she’d have less of a chance of getting caught.
“You sure are a pretty thing. Wear your hair loose for me. That’s it, falling over your shoulders.” Jack’s raspy voice, low and seductive, filled the room. “What do you think of our new girl, Carlos?”
“She’s a beauty, boss. She’ll class up the place all right.”
Silently, Willa shoved her back into the cabinets. Carlos sounded close. Too close. Jack was known far and wide for being cruel to his girls, but it wasn’t Jack who did the most damage. It was Carlos. Jack just liked to watch.