CHAPTER ONE

JAKE

From the driver’s seat of his parked SUV, Jake took stock of his destination. Lucky’s Healthy Life Massage. Simple, tasteful sign mounted on a well-maintained industrial building. No tacky, flashing neon or explicit images in the windows. The place could pass for a respectable business.

No registered massage therapists worked beyond that tinted glass door though, and Lucky’s damn sure wouldn’t accept your health insurance plan as payment. They offered massages here, true enough. The kind that came with a happy ending…delivered in a variety of erotic ways.

Lucky’s was a small operation with a top-notch rep. In rub-and-tug terms, that meant clean facilities with gorgeous women who did filthy things. According to online reviews, the ladies here did those things very well. For fixed rates, cash only, generous tipping required.

Jake did a visual sweep of the parking lot, then headed for the entrance. He loved sexy, naked women as much as the next guy, but this was a totally different scene from his usual source of female entertainment. He had no problem tucking money under a beautiful woman’s G-string as she gyrated in front of him at a strip club, but he’d never paid for sex. Never would either. No matter what level of hotness and seduction he encountered inside the massage parlor.

He got his game face on and pulled the door handle. Low-level music and a long privacy wall prevented him from seeing or hearing anything incriminating. He followed the wall to its end and turned a corner, into a conservatively decorated reception area. A counter-height desk served as a barrier to the next room. Through the archway beyond, several comfortable-looking couches were visible, occupied by a couple of scantily clad women.

Massage attendants. That was their title on the website. A blonde with her face obscured by a magazine and a redhead with not much hidden by anything. The redhead gave him a wink and a wave.

Jake nodded an acknowledgment, but he wasn’t here for a redhead. Or a blonde. He was here for a brunette. One specific brunette—the dark-haired woman behind the reception desk. His buddy Curtis’s girlfriend, or possibly ex-girlfriend, as of this morning.

Curtis had it bad for this woman. He’d even moved her into his loft. Curtis had brushed it off as a temporary stay, the result of threats she’d received at the hellhole she’d formerly called home, yet he’d seemed in no hurry to change the arrangement. In fact, he’d been downright foul when he’d mentioned Sara’s ongoing apartment search. Curtis was in deep with this one. A huge deal, since Jake’s friend and fellow police officer hadn’t been serious about any woman in the five years they’d been on the force together.

Jake had pegged the couple for permanent-relationship territory until Curtis hit him up for a favor. A wild one.

For reasons he hadn’t shared, Curtis had tailed Sara to work. Here. For months, Sara had claimed to work as a health club receptionist. The receptionist part appeared to be true, but Lucky’s sure as hell wasn’t a health club. Attempting to provoke her into leaving the job, Curtis had gone into a massage room with one of the other women. There, Sara’s coworker had told Curtis that Sara would soon be abandoning her desk position for one more horizontal—or any other position the clients dictated. Curtis had pretty much lost his fucking shit at that revelation.

Hence, the favor.

“Do whatever it takes to find out how far she’ll go,” Curtis had said.

Jake had agreed to the mission. So here he was, face-to-face with his buddy’s girl. An off-duty cop about to proposition a woman for paid sexual services.

Curtis owed Jake for this favor. Big time.

Sara smiled at him. A phony, practiced gesture that didn’t reach her eyes, though the guys around here probably didn’t notice, or care. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No, do I need one?”

She shook her head. “Walk-ins are always welcome. Have you visited us before?”

“No, but you come highly recommended by a good friend.” Time to engage the plan. He leaned in, invading the space above the counter and locking gazes with his mark. “I thought he was exaggerating when he said the women here were gorgeous, but I can see he was telling the truth.”

“Absolutely. Our massage attendants are the sexiest, most beautiful women in the tri-cities. I’m sure you’ll be very satisfied with whoever you choose this afternoon.” She gestured toward the room with the couches. “Brandy and Candy are both available now, if you’d like to go in and meet them.”

Brandy and Candy? He would’ve laughed at the cheesiness if he weren’t here for a serious reason. “Not interested in them,” he said, keeping his eyes on Sara. “I choose you.”

“I’m the receptionist. I don’t do massages.”

“Come on, I know how it works.” He reached across to stroke her jawline. “Everything’s available here. Everything and everybody. And I want your body.”

She didn’t flinch at his touch, but her nostrils flared and daggers practically flew from her eyes—until her gaze shifted to the authoritative, middle-aged woman entering through the front.

Sara edged back, out of Jake’s reach. “As I said, I’m not a massage attendant. Let me introduce you to Candy. She’s the best and I know she’d love to show you everything Lucky’s has to offer.”

At the mention of what was obviously her call name, the blonde from the next room joined them by the desk. “Hiya, handsome. I’m Candy.” Despite her miniscule bikini top and ultra-short shorts, she offered her hand in a way that implied he ought to bow his head and kiss her fingertips, as a gentleman would with a proper lady.

And he was tempted to take that delicate hand. So damn tempted to kiss any and every inch of silky-looking skin she offered.

When he failed to take the bait, she simply smiled and trailed her fingers down the front of his t-shirt to his belt buckle, where she added a little tug. “No need to be shy, honey. Let me take you to my room and help you unwind. You’re going to love the way I make you feel.”

A bomb went off in his gut, sending a riot of sparks ricocheting through his veins. Didn’t matter that she was a sex worker. That she was putting on an act. That more men than he could probably count had stood in his place before this moment, then taken Candy into one of those private rooms and done God knows what to her.

She was a fucking bombshell. Pretty face and hair, rockin’ body, voice of an angel. Ten out of ten didn’t do her justice. Unfortunately, Candy wasn’t the reason for his visit.

“Appreciate the offer, but I already made my choice.” He shifted, causing her hand to fall away, then tore his gaze from Candy to focus on his target—Sara. “I choose you. I want you to show me everything Lucky’s has to offer in one of those private rooms.”

Sara’s cheeks turned a heated shade of red. “That’s not going to happen. For the final time, I’m the receptionist. I don’t do massages.”

“No more front desk,” the middle-aged woman snapped, stepping behind the counter. She pointed at Sara, then at Jake. “He wants you, you go with him.”

“No.”

The woman’s eyes opened wide. “You want to work here? You do massage. All girls do massage. Move up or move out.”

Sara stood her ground, not backing up a single inch as the woman, who was clearly her boss, got utterly in her space. Stormy gaze locked on the woman’s face, Sara opened a drawer beneath the countertop and reached inside.

Subtly, Jake slid his cell phone from his pocket. He’d come here as a personal favor, not as an undercover cop, but if shit got out of hand and he had to call for backup, he would. Even if Curtis’s girlfriend got burned in the process.

Sara withdrew her hand from the drawer and tucked a handbag under her arm. “I’m moving up, Nuwa. Up and out. I quit.” Then she walked out, vacating the premises without looking back. Kind of an anticlimactic ending, given Curtis’s description of Sara’s volatile personality. But an ending it was, one that Curtis would be relieved to hear about.

“Forget about her,” Nuwa said, drawing his attention back to the desk. “You go with this girl. Candy is sweet, like her name. Candy make you forget about sour girl with dark hair.”

Now he had a situation to deal with. One he’d created. He’d accomplished his purpose and didn’t regret that his mission had forced Sara to quit her job. Hell, he couldn’t have better news to tell his buddy. But what to do about the tempting blonde? Turn her down and walk out the door, obviously. Except he was still standing here. Staring. Considering actions he would undoubtedly regret if pursued.

The shrill screech of an alarm pierced the air.

“Oh God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” a glassy-eyed brunette called, as she rushed into the front room wearing a dress that could’ve been painted on, without using much paint. “I swear I had the fan on in the bathroom. It was only a little joint, I didn’t think it’d make enough smoke to do this,” she said, flapping her hands at the noise-filled air.

Shit. Not a door alarm, but the goddamn fire alarm. In an industrial plaza where the units were joined in a row, the alarm might’ve triggered an automatic 9-1-1 call. Emergency vehicles were probably already on their way.

Insults flew as the women scrambled in multiple directions. The boss woman went for the phone on the desk and the massage attendants took off toward the rear portion of the building.

Much as he hated to exit via the front in this scenario, it was the surest and fastest way to get the hell out of this mess. Had to be done. He cut around the privacy jag and pushed open the dark-tinted door. No fire trucks on scene yet, thankfully. Still, he had to clear out before the sirens in the distance got any closer.

He hopped into his Cherokee and hightailed it out of the lot, putting as much distance as possible between him and what could’ve been the biggest mistake of his life.

* * *

CANDACE

That pothead twit had triggered the fire alarm? Seriously? This was so not what Candace needed today. She ignored her coworkers’ frantic rambling and raced to the locker room, grabbed her bag and headed for the back door. An emergency exit only, it’d set off an alarm the instant she pushed the handle. Another alarm. Too damn bad.

Sure enough, a siren sounded when she opened the door. Candace did a quick perusal of the rear parking lot. No people, no activity whatsoever, just parked vehicles. She hurried to her little Hyundai and took refuge inside, locking the doors and releasing a cleansing breath. The shitty day was over. There’d be fallout to deal with tomorrow, but for now, it was done. She could move on to happier things.

She pulled the sweatshirt from her bag and slipped it on. There hadn’t been time to shower and change into her street clothes—her usual routine before leaving for the day—but at least her top half was covered. She put her boobs on display six hours a day. Off the job, her girls were nobody’s business. Hadn’t been for a long time.

She sighed, started the engine and headed out of the parking lot. Hard to believe it’d been almost five years since she’d been romantically involved with anybody. After Ken had walked out on her and the baby, she’d been overwhelmed with responsibilities. She hadn’t had the time or energy to think about meeting somebody new. Not to mention the expense of dating. Clothes, babysitters, spending money—those things required cash she hadn’t had. Not with rent, food, diapers, and every other necessity to pay for on her own.

The job at Lucky’s had solved her cash-flow woes. However, that financial security had come at a price. As her savings grew, her libido shrank. The few times she’d met an interesting guy outside of work, the inevitable “What line of work are you in?” conversation had snuffed the spark of possibility. She refused to lie. She also refused to apologize for her choices or allow anybody to judge her for them. Her path wasn’t ideal, but it had purpose.

She slowed as she approached the Montessori school, indicating her turn into the driveway. The sight of the red-brick building always lifted the weight of the workday and dissolved any personal regrets. She didn’t need a boyfriend. The only person she needed waited inside the walls ahead.