Snapped

By Kendra Little

Lucy Hudson likes to watch. She’s made a successful business out of photographing cheating spouses - but now someone is watching Lucy.

No innocent wallflower, Lucy has a reputation and a body that drives men wild. But lately she doesn't want any of them. Not even her work turns her on. The only man she desires is tough-as-nails detective Nick Dante who is sent to keep her safe. Burned too many times, Nick's had enough of women like Lucy - but that doesn't mean he doesn't want her in his bed, albeit temporarily.

Lucy is more than willing to accommodate his every fantasy. Until the heat is turned up and emotions get involved.

Can two people who've sworn off love find what they're really looking for? Or will their appetites drive them apart forever?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Oz Books
• Release date: May 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310787447

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Snapped

Kendra Little

Copyright 2012 by Kendra Little

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Visit Kendra at http://kendralittle.com

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CHAPTER 1

The woman was young, blonde, and a little too plastic to be called pretty. Dressed in a red lace teddy and nothing else, she leaned forward so that her large breasts spilled onto the man's chest. He lay on the bed, entirely naked, and caught one of her lace-clad nipples in his mouth. The woman moaned.

Or so Lucy imagined. She couldn't actually hear the lovers, but she could see everything as if it were happening right there in the dark room of the apartment she'd rented for the week.

Her camera lens focused on the mole on the left of the man's groin. Click. Moles were good. Just in case the face shots didn't work out, moles or birthmarks always framed their man beyond doubt. Beyond doubt in the wife's mind, that is.

Lucy zoomed out to get a photo of the entire scene. John Mollino, forty-five, Bellerae resident with a trophy wife and a Golden Retriever he walked every morning—just the dog, not the wife—sat up and plunged his hands into the bra cups of the woman's teddy. Her breasts were too large even for his broad palms. She arched her back into him and with one swift movement, he tore the flimsy fabric from her body with a magician's flair. Voila.

The next few minutes were a blurred frenzy and Lucy doubted she caught anything on film that the trophy wife would find useful. She packed up her camera and tripod just as Mollino's rotund body wobbled in climax. Usually she got aftermath shots as well, but not this time. In fact, not for the last six months on any job. Photographing cheating husbands as they bonked their latest bimbo never turned her on anymore.

She didn't know why. Ever since her best friend, Abbey, had left town to live with her fiancé in Stanton, she'd felt like she was missing out on something. She had no idea what. Maybe she just missed Abbey. Whatever the reason, it was getting kind of irritating. Not to mention boring. If she wasn't careful she'd wind up a dried old prune with nothing to live on but memories of a misspent but glorious youth.

Lucy picked up her camera bag and tripod and left the apartment, locking it behind her. She'd been lucky to get access to it for such a short time, but since the owners were having trouble renting it, they were happy to get anything.

She slipped the keys into the pocket of her short jacket and slung the camera bag over one shoulder, the tripod over the other, and entered the lift. She traveled down the twenty-two floors to the ground. When the doors slid open with a ding, she stepped out.

And slammed into a brick wall.

Or that's what the man's body felt like. The tall, dark and hot stranger gripped her shoulders to steady her, holding her at arm's length.

Then he let go.

Damn.

A man like that could hold her all night and she wouldn't mind. Especially if his presence alone could make her nerve endings hum the way they did now.

Sorry, she said, I wasn't watching where I was going.

No kidding. His gaze took in her face then grazed down her body to her spiky black heels, before lazily skimming back up again. It was a thorough scrutiny and Lucy felt naked beneath its intensity.

She wouldn't mind getting naked with him. He was one hell of a specimen—just what she needed to entice her out of her sexual rut.

She drew herself up to her full height—which brought her eyes level with a chest to die for—and arched a brow. I did say sorry.

He grunted. Great, another Neanderthal. Time for a reality check. Men who look that good rarely had the brains or personality to maintain her interest. She sighed. Been there, done that.

But wow he was gorgeous. At least six foot three with a set of shoulders and a chest that strained the stitching on the blue cotton shirt. She took every inch of him in, the way he'd done to her a moment ago, and liked what she saw. Besides the shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal solid forearms, he wore black jeans that hugged lean hips and did nothing to hide an impressive bulge. His jaw sported a five o'clock shadow and his black hair was cropped short. A thin scar trickled from the corner of his left eye to the top of his cheekbone. His eyes were black in the dim light of the foyer and his direct gaze screamed 'mess with me at your own risk'.

Usually she'd give it a shot, bait the scary Neanderthal into showing her a good time, but not anymore. She wasn't in the mood to play a sexual game of cat and mouse. Not even with this fantasy man. God only knows why but a handsome face and great body wasn't enough. Not anymore.

She went to step around him but he moved and blocked her path.

What the hell are you doing?

He ignored her question and nodded at her equipment. Photographer? He had a voice that vibrated deep within his chest and slid across her skin.

"So observant! You must be a detective." Sarcasm dripped from every word but she didn't care. Usually it got results, especially with bullies.

He grunted again. Yep, one step away from his Neanderthal ancestors. At least in manners, if not in body. Hell no, not in body. Maybe she could try him on for size. It's not like she wanted to talk to the guy or anything, just fool around for a while, get out of this funk. Maybe he was just what her tired libido needed. A big, strong, dumb man with a package that promised something special. Who better to end her drought than another brainless hunk?

She licked her lips as she eyed the muscles straining under his shirt. Oh yeah, the drought was about to end with a flood.

She gave him an apologetic smile which she hoped came across as flirty too. She never used to hope these things, she just used to do them. Sorry. I didn't mean to call you a detective. She winked for good measure.

He glared down at her, disdain carved into his hard features. Her smile and wink hadn't affected him at all. Usually it had them begging. She was rustier than she thought.

You're sorry you called me a detective? Since when is that an insult? His top lip curled up into either a snarl or a smile, she couldn't tell which.

I was a cop once, briefly. The detectives were my least favorite rank in the force. Too arrogant.

Do you have a reason for this bias or is it just based on the fact that you couldn't make it as a cop?

Lucy stiffened. What an asshole! Where did this guy get off speaking to her as if— "Ahhh. I get it. You are a detective."

The smirk faded and he reached for her. She stood her ground and gripped the tripod tighter, ready to swing it if he so much as touched her with those big hands. He did touch her, on the shoulder as he reached past and pressed the button for the lift. He smelled faintly of a woody aftershave. His throat was inches from her lips and she wanted to kiss him in the hollow just above the sprinkle of hair revealed by his open-necked shirt. He turned his face to look at her and he drew in a breath as if sucking her into his lungs, then let it out slowly, flipping the hair behind her ear.

The lift dinged its availability and the moment was gone. He stepped around her, his arm brushing against her shoulder again, and got in the lift. He held the doors open.

What's your name? he asked with a tilt of his stubbled chin.

Lucy. Her voice sounded breathy and she mentally kicked herself. She was never breathy. Breathy was better suited to women like the one who'd been giving John Mollino a private lap dance in his secret apartment. And yours?

He gave her another one of those smirks and let go of the doors. Nick, he said as they closed.

Lucy stared at the lift doors for a long time, still reeling from his powerful presence. He exuded barely contained energy and she had to admit she'd been taken in by it. She was definitely a sucker for big men with impressive bulges.

The little light above the lift doors stopped at the twenty-second floor. Uh-oh. She chewed the inside of her lip and spun on her heel. If he really was a cop, the quicker she got out of there the better. Photographing people without their consent was grounds for harassment.

Nick. He must be a cop. It would explain his attitude. Cops, especially detectives, thought they were God's gift to society and women, when usually they were just a rogue menace to both.

She walked quickly out of the building in case he realized what she'd been up to and returned to question her. She piled her equipment into her battered old Honda and jumped into the driver's seat. With a last glance back at the glass and steel Southbank apartment building, she zoomed through the back streets to her Richmond home.

An hour later, she sat in front of her electric heater on her living room floor and studied the photos spread out on the rug. Even before she finished flipping through them her heart sank. They were useless. Too dark or too blurry. A few came out okay but didn't show the girlfriend's face—not enough to satisfy Janet Mollino. The society queen would want absolute proof before she threw away the profitable investment that was her marriage to the building magnate.

Lucy swore. She used to be good at her job. Now she'd have to do it all over again the following night, if Mollino decided to get his rocks off again. It would be a risk. If Detective Nick were checking out a complaint involving her, she might find herself in a sticky situation.

Then again, if he were like all the other cops she knew, it wouldn't take much to persuade him that she was innocent. She might actually enjoy persuading him. In fact, she was sure she would. Persuading Detective Nick to let her off without a mark against her file could be exactly what her flagging libido needed.

Too bad he was an arrogant jerk, but she could make the sacrifice in the name of justice and her sex life. She smiled. And if that bulge in his pants were any indication, she'd have a damn fine time in the process.

***

Nick Dante couldn't believe how unlucky he was. He'd expected Lucy Hudson to remain in the apartment for at least another half hour, but she'd left before the encore. According to his partner, Dave O'Connor, and the other guys in his unit, that wasn't like her. She liked to watch. He'd heard she also liked to participate but not when she was working. That usually came later.

He'd caught the lift to the twenty-second floor because he might as well check out the apartment she'd used while he was there and because he couldn't just leave while she was in the vicinity. He didn't want to give anything away, not until after he'd caught her in the act of spying on his prime suspect.

He'd enjoyed their little dance in the foyer just now. Lucy definitely lived up to her reputation as a vixen in a cute little package. Jagged wisps of blonde hair flipped out at the ends as if caught by a breeze, framing a fine-boned face with sky-blue eyes and kissable lips. And that body. Tight black pants stretched over the curve of her thigh and butt, leaving nothing to the imagination. Every muscle was visible beneath the fabric as she moved with feline grace. He'd wanted to press his fingers to her hip and feel her strength, her heat.

When he'd leaned close to press the lift button, the luscious scent of jasmine and woman sucked him in. He wanted to taste her, lick every inch of skin and swim in that scent. He'd never be able to smell jasmine again without thinking of her body. He couldn't taste her, but he could touch her. When he reached past her, skin brushed skin and a ball of fire ignited at the point of connection.

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.