“Best news I’ve heard this week. Well, other than you’re buying out your dad and staying here.”
Maybe buying out and maybe staying here.
But she so wasn’t getting into any of that tonight.
JC passed the neighborhood elementary school and then turned right on Keene. A moment later, he slid through traffic and turned in front of the mega-church.
“You’re taking me to church?”
“Not exactly what I had in mind. Then again...” A smile tugged at his mouth and an eyebrow rose suggestively. “We could stop off and get married.”
She laughed. “No.”
He continued into one of the new subdivisions that seemed to be sprouting up everywhere in the Tri-Cities.
“Uh, JC? There aren’t any restaurants up here.”
He gave her a grin. With a dimple.
A couple hundred feet up the road, he turned into a parking lot. A prominent sign read Badger Mountain Park. She scanned the open area. “We’re going to the playground? Aren’t we a little old, or at least too big, for that slide and swing-set?”
JC parked the Jeep, then came around and opened her door. She slid out and watched as he opened the rear hatch and pulled out a picnic basket.
“You’re planning on going somewhere with that?” Her eyes widened. There were no picnic tables in that little park. Then it hit her. “Ah, no. I am not hiking up Badger Mountain in these shoes.”
He reached over the seat and brought out her hiking boots.
She gave him her best squinty-eyed look. “Isn’t this area closed at night?”
He grinned. “Good thing I’m a police officer. I have to check to make sure there isn’t any riff raff up there.”
“Who says riff raff?”
“Would you prefer scumbags?”
“Give me those shoes. Boots.” She propped a hip on his front seat and changed shoes. “This better be worth it.”
“Oh, it will be.” He grabbed her hand and headed to the trailhead.
They climbed the long set of stairs at the beginning of the trail. At the top, she stopped and heaved air into her lungs. “If you wanted to make my heart race...”
“Need to get you out of the office more often. Don’t worry.” He gestured to the left. “We’ll take the Sagebrush Trail from here. It’s easier.”
“Promise?”
“And Holly.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and nibbled her earlobe. “There are lots more fun ways to make your heart race.”
Her nipples jumped to attention and desire shimmied south. “What about your heart?”
“Just thinking about you does it for me.”
“Good to know.” She blew out a breath and took a step back. Was it down, boy? Or down, girl?
She turned in a full circle, taking in the view while giving her pulse a chance to settle. Already the elevation offered a nice view of the city. Lights sparkled from houses and streetlights. A line of car headlights dotted the highway. She gave the trail a doubtful glance. “You know, it’s going to be dark soon.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two mini-mag flashlights. “Which one do you want?”
“I give up.” She laughed and took one of the small, powerful lights. “I’m rolling with it, Just Crazy. Lead on.”
The gravel trail continued in a series of switchbacks. JC teased her and tugged her hand, keeping her moving upward. Finally the trail widened to a clearing at the crest of the ridge. He led her around a pile of rocks and stepped onto a blanket already spread over the ground.
“What’s this?” She raised an eyebrow.
“You did challenge me to be innovative.”
“Clearly, challenge accepted.”
He pulled a lighter from a backpack and lit the glass-encased candles that anchored the blanket’s corners. “Have a seat.”
He held out a hand, apparently to help her. Or maybe it was to keep her from turning around and running for the car. “If there are snakes up here...”
“Nope. Beat them into submission earlier tonight. They are all hiding in their hidey holes.”
“Oka-ay.” She dropped to a sitting position. She considered sitting cross-legged, but given the dress and hiking boots, she rearranged her legs, stretching them out in front.
Reaching behind a rock, JC retrieved a padded box that looked suspiciously like a kid’s lunchbox.
“Finger food.” He withdrew a pair of stemless wine glasses, then reached again behind the rock and pulled out a bottle of good red wine. “And adult beverage.”
“You put a lot of effort into this.” She accepted the filled glass he handed her.
“You’re worth it.” His dimples did their thing.
She couldn’t help but smile in return. “Think you’re gonna get lucky?”
“Counting on it.”
She laughed. “What do you have in that lunch box? I’m starving.”
He lounged beside her and unzipped the case. “Notice the cloth napkin.”
“Classy.”
“There are some of those wipe-your-hands things in the bottom.”
“Are you implying I’m messy?”
“I’m counting on that too.”
They munched the appetizers and drank the wine while talking and laughing like normal people. The wind teased the edge of the blanket and fluttered the candlelight. The edge off her hunger, she rested her head against his shoulder and absently swirled her wine. “Lights and stars.”
A blanket of lights from the growing city spread at their feet, punctuated by the shiny ribbons of the rivers and the dark velvet of the nature preserve. Overhead, a million stars blazed amid the streak of the Milky Way.
“Town’s growing so fast, light pollution’s fading some,” he said. “But, yeah. Pretty great. I’d miss this in Seattle.”
She blinked, but didn’t take the bait. Was he actually considering relocating? Or was that another dig at the big city?
“Forget I said that.” He picked up the wine bottle.
She wasn’t ready to mess up the mood with a serious discussion—or an argument. “Why, Mr. Policeman. Are you planning to drink and drive?”
“Nope. I’m having one glass. You, on the other hand...” He topped off her glass.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Definitely.” He tucked the bottle back in its corner and removed the glass from her hand. He tugged her toward him and kissed her. It was a full out, lust inspiring, oh-my-God-take-me-now kiss.
A long time later, they finally broke apart.
“Wow. I don’t need to be drunk to do that.” She picked up the nearly full glass and took a gulp.
“Put the wineglass down and come here.” His voice was husky, the timbre hitting her in the chest and heading straight south. “I don’t think you need to be drunk for this, either.”
He pulled her onto his lap, then turned her so she straddled his legs. Her skirt floated out around them.
“Oh, you naughty man. This is why you wanted a full skirt.” She rocked her hips and parts of her liked parts of him. A lot.
His hand toyed with the hem. “That fantastic brain of yours.”
Part of her acknowledged the effort he’d put into the evening. Into the seduction. The rest of her dove straight into sin and temptation.
His fingers worked their way inside her jacket to her breast while he kissed her. They danced and teased.
Rock hard desire flared.
His. Hers.
“You’re all up in my head. I think about you all the time.” He kissed her again, deeper, harder. “I want this to be more. I want to make love, not just have sex.”
“Me too.” She cupped him and he bucked against her hand, a loss of control she relished.
His hand slid under her skirt.
Hers fumbled with his belt and zipper.
His fingers teased her inner thigh. Stroked the lace of her panties. One finger slipped beneath the elastic.
“Ohhhh...right there.�
� She arched her back, then rocked her hips, grinding against his fingers, wanting more.
Wanting him.
“Ahem.” A throat cleared behind them. “You can’t be here.”
Hands and clothing flew for cover, while adrenaline amped her heart rate for all the wrong reasons. She pivoted, anchored in place by JC’s hands. Her attention leapt to the uniformed policeman leaning against a boulder.
“Oh, JC. Sorry, man. You shoulda let us know you were gonna...be here.” The cop made some gesture that might have been a wave or a salute or who knew what. He turned and ambled away.
The absurdity of the situation hit her. She giggled.
A chuckle started deep in JC’s belly, and her giggles turned to full laughter. They collapsed onto the blanket. He rolled and she ended up under him, staring up into his beautiful brown eyes. The gold flecks caught the candlelight. Slowly, their laughter faded and his eyes darkened with desire.
“Where were we?” A husky note deepened his voice.
“You were definitely kissing me. And your hands were doing amazing things...” She reached up and captured his lips.
When they came up for air, he had her blouse pulled out of her skirt, which was hiked up around her thighs.
“If anybody tries to interrupt us,” she nibbled down his neck while her fingers undid the rest of his buttons. “Shoot them.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Shiftwork (Kenny Chesney and George Strait)
The rumble of the forklift echoing off the concrete floor of the Quality Distributing warehouse was giving Holly a headache. It couldn’t be a hangover. She hadn’t had that much to drink last night. She tipped her mug and polished off her coffee.
Damn, what she’d give for another cup.
Then again, it could be the chemical smell from too many car parts making her gag.
Reasons number four hundred and four hundred-one that she hadn’t ever wanted to work in a regular accounting practice—spending her weekends working in cold, dusty, smelly warehouses, and the insane boredom of watching guys climb stacks of merchandise and hang inventory tags.
She slapped at the dirt on her jeans. Then there was number four hundred-two—climbing around test-counting stock to compare with numbers the other guys counted.
Rick stopped beside her. “We should be done soon.”
“What are you doing after this?” she asked.
“Headed to the house. Why?”
“I have to turn in that rental car next week. Want to go with me to make an offer on a new one?”
“Why don’t you ask— Ah.” He grinned. “You don’t want our favorite detective to know you couldn’t negotiate on your own.”
Warmth climbed her cheeks. “That’s not it. I need a ride over there if I’m going to buy it.”
“And you didn’t want to disturb JC.”
“Never mind.” She punched Rick’s shoulder the way she would Tate’s. “I’ll wait until tomorrow and get my cousin to take me.”
Rick rubbed his biceps. “Oww. That’s harassment or abuse or something, isn’t it?”
“You’ll know when I harass you. How much longer do we have to be here?”
The smile left his face. “Only two rows left and there’s at least ten percent of the product unaccounted for.”
“Thank God you’re handling the ticking and tying. I would kill for another cup of coffee.”
“That’s what you get for being a party animal.”
“Am not.”
He smirked. “Oh, that red spot on your neck’s from a curling iron burn?”
“Maybe.” She was going to kill JC for that. Tugging the zipper higher on her jacket, she turned and walked toward the office. Maybe she could find the warehouse manager—what was his name...Jennings?—and beg a cup from him.
A pallet tucked into the corner of a shelf caught her eye. The size and shape were right for George and Tate’s product, but there was no inventory tag on the stack. She backed up and looked again. “Rick. Come here.”
He loped around the corner. “What’s the matter?”
She pointed at the boxes. “Why weren’t these parts counted?”
He pulled a box from the stack. “Cascade Precision. Huh. Sure looks like it.” He turned the box for better lighting and read the SKU. “No, the code is different. See.” His finger traced the applied bar code label. “The last two numbers are transposed. It’s a different part.”
“Give me that.” She pulled at the flap on the end of the box.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Alarm sounded in his voice.
“Opening it.” The part slid out and she held it up for inspection. “This is their part. That’s why your numbers are off. Someone keyed them with the wrong code.” Thank God. If only all the problems in her life were this easy to solve.
Rick looked at the half-hidden stack. “If those got coded wrong, it only explains a fraction of what’s missing.”
Okay, maybe not solved. Damn.
Still...
“If these got missed, there could be more.” She returned the part to its package.
“Damn.” Rick stared down the long row. “The operators will have to start over and see if there’re more of this SKU.”
“Wait a minute. Before we go find the manager, I want to check on something.” She returned to the small desk they were using for their computers, and placed the transposed SKU part on it. Headache forgotten, she moved to the closest pallet of Cascade Precision suspension parts and tugged one free.
“What are you looking for?” Rick asked.
“Hold on.” Prying the box open, she returned to the desk. Side by side, the parts looked alike, but... She picked up the second part and tested the weight. Damn, damn, double-damn.
She raised the second SKU. “This one is lighter. A lot lighter.”
How many times had Tate said there shouldn’t be any street grade products?
The sudden cramp in her stomach had nothing to do with the industrial odor. What she smelled now was a rat.
If this were a due diligence, she would say, “Walk away.”
But she couldn’t turn her back on this situation. Her client was already in the middle of this mess. And Tate… Tate had thrown everything into launching this product.
“Let me see.” Rick extended his hand.
She returned the parts to their boxes and passed both to him.
He studied each box, then stepped back to the desk. He slid out the correctly labeled product and placed it beside the second version. “The design, at least the outward appearance, is exactly the same. That oversized cylinder is distinctive.”
“Then why is that second one so much lighter?” She pointed at it accusingly.
“I’m not sure. But I think we may have found a duplicate.” His gaze slid sideways to meet hers. “Or should I say, a problem.”
“You mean a knockoff part?” She figured her grim tone matched her assessment of the problem.
Mouth drawn in a tight line, he nodded.
“This can’t be a legitimate second vendor with a similar product and SKU. No one else should be making this design.” She stared at the offending part. “Where did this one come from?”
“My guess is Mexico.”
“If there are a bunch of them, it would explain the discrepancy between the shipping and inventory. If they’re stored under that second SKU, I mean.”
He nodded. “We need to be really careful here. I’ve heard about the problem on the circuit with the sub-standard parts. If someone is making duplicates—unauthorized duplicates—we could be talking about fraud.”
“We better be absolutely sure before we make an accusation.” She chewed her lip for a moment, then slid her cell from her coat pocket.
“Who are you calling?”
“No one.” She tapped the camera app, then took close-up pictures of the duplicate SKU code and the suspect part alongside the legitimate suspension. She stepped around the corner and snapped shots of the entire pallet.
“In case these conveniently disappear.”
“Good idea,” he said.
The forklift rounded the far end of the warehouse row and stopped in front of the first shelf. The machine beeped as the driver maneuvered it into position.
“Crap.” She returned to the desk, fighting the instinct to run. Hurrying would attract the warehouse worker’s attention, and pointing out their discovery was the last thing she wanted to do right now.
With brisk, efficient movements, she re-boxed the parts and tucked both into her tote bag.
“You can’t take those.” Rick looked from her to the forklift driver.
“Sure I can. I want to show them to George and Tate, and let them figure out what’s going on.” A long black grease smear ran down her palm. Dust clung to it. “Great.”
She turned her hands, looking at the mess. She’d used the restroom earlier that day, only because it had been absolutely necessary. Washing her hands there would be futile. Instead, she pulled a small bottle of hand sanitizer and a tissue from her tote. Crouched beside the desk, she scrubbed at the stain.
“Not sure that’s going to help.”
“Can’t hurt.” She rose, then clung to the desk as a wave of dizziness washed over her.
“Are you okay?” Rick’s hand touched her arm.
“Yeah. Guess I stood up too fast.” She eased onto the stool behind the desk.
“Hey! You.” The shout echoed through the aisle.
Holly jumped and pivoted toward the man stalking down the row. The forklift driver leaned sideways and craned his neck, watching the developing sideshow.
“What are you doing here?” The new guy had clenched fists and arms cocked around an overdeveloped array of chest muscles.
“Who are you?” She straightened to her full height. Even if he’d seen her take the two parts, she could explain and justify her action.
“I gave up my Saturday ‘cause I got called in to unload a truck,” the guy ranted. “I got no truck and you people in here tearing shit up.”
Rick stepped forward. “If you worked here, you’d know we’re observing inventory today. Larry Jennings should be in the manager’s office if you need to check in with him.”
In It For the Money Page 19