“I’m in the parking lot. Get what we need and get out of there. Then we can both go have an exciting Saturday.”
Gillian didn’t bother to mention this was the exciting part of her day. Once the job was done, she was going to be bored out of her skull.
She wandered around the pool area, feminine laughter and music filling the space. The party atmosphere was starting to kick into overdrive as ladies moved around the large wave pool-turned-tropical paradise.
Lady Beatrix, her target, was easy to spot in the midst of the bevy. Her gold metallic bikini sparkled in the bright sunshine pouring in from the windows. Gillian grabbed a drink from one of the uniformed servers—more men—and strolled casually through the crowd.
“We got bad intel. There are tons of guys in here, from the servers to the lifeguards.” She eyed the young man standing at the edge of the pool wearing nothing but a red pair of shorts, his body suspiciously shiny as if he’d oiled up. She smiled in amusement. “Scratch that. They aren’t lifeguards, I think they’re models hired to look pretty.”
“Damn, we totally could’ve sent Dean with you, or Colby.”
“Dean would have had too much fun,” she pointed out. “Info incoming.”
She paced past where Lady Beatrix was holding court with a group of bathing beauties. It was strange to see the woman lounging with no bodyguards around, but it certainly made Gillian’s task easier. She moved in close enough to spot details, then carried on until she was out of hearing range. “All gold jewelry, nothing too flashy. She’s wearing a gold locket—heart shaped—and a couple of rings, including what I suspect is her engagement stone that’s nearly the size of Iceland. Okay, that sucker is flashy.”
Gillian took a set of stairs to where she could observe the pool area and her target. “She’s not drinking the fruity bullshit everyone else has. Looks like white wine, wait… Her glass is the wrong shape. She’s sipping champagne. She’s also turned down all of the snacks except the shrimp. And that gold bikini she’s wearing has a matching cover-up and sandals, and even from a distance I can see her nails are the same color. The lady likes her gold.”
Lady Beatrix should have been called Lady Butterfly. The woman flitted from group to group, chatting easily for a few moments before moving to a new area. It gave Gillian time to walk behind and overhear snippets of conversation, but in the end she returned to her perch to see if there were any final details she could get.
She was craning her neck to watch what Lady Butterfly would do when confronted with another of the models-slash-entertainers, this one turning balloons into naughty animals, when a strong pair of hands caught her wrists. Gillian barely had time to react before a solid body pressed against her and pinned her in place at the railing.
“You don’t look like you’re enjoying the party very much.” The deep male rumble in her ear sent a shiver up her spine. The tight grip he had on her, and the position he’d trapped her in, with one of his legs jammed between hers and his hips pressing hers to the railing, meant she needed to sweet talk her way out of this.
“Gillian? Are you in trouble?”
Shit. Parker must have picked up the guy’s voice, and right now the last thing Gillian needed was for anyone to come rushing to her rescue. Not when she didn’t even know what was going on yet. “Nothing wrong. Need to sign off for a moment. I’ll call you back, Mom.”
“Ten-four,” Parker responded, probably assuming Gillian was slipping away from a dangerous situation.
Well, in a way…
It took less than a second for her sunglasses to be pulled from her head and tossed aside, the tiny receiver in her ear along with them. Her stranger’s hand was back on her wrist before she had a chance to dig her elbow into him.
She twisted her head to grab a glimpse, and her breath hitched when she realized just how attractive he was. Sandy blond hair worn in a buzz cut, a rugged, masculine face shadowed with stubble, and shrewd blue eyes that locked on her face, searching, assessing.
“That wasn’t nice,” she grumbled, pretending to be unaffected by both his looks and his manhandling of her. “I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to use a headset for my phone at this party.”
“You’re not here for the party,” he whispered, tugging one hand off the railing and slipping it across her belly. The position put her entirely into his embrace, so anyone watching would simply see one of the guests having a small moment with one of the entertainment.
“Neither are you, obviously,” she retorted, attempting to twist her wrist free, testing his grasp.
“Security detail. You’re a little too interested in Lady B, and we both know damn well you weren’t on the phone just now. I’ll need to see some I.D.”