He frowned at her. His personal escort? Then his confusion ebbed as his earlier conversation with Brett tumbled through his mind. Obviously, his friend had meant what he’d said about sending him a woman for his birthday, but how had Brett arranged for her arrival so quickly?
The answer didn’t really matter, not when Dean was coming to understand, and appreciate, that this woman’s attire and realistic props were all part of some kind of law enforcement costume. One she’d most likely remove, piece by piece, until that luscious body was completely exposed for his eyes only. She’d said herself that she was his personal escort—a new, politically correct title for a stripper, he was guessing—sent for his pleasure and entertainment.
And he planned to cooperate.
He had no place more important to be at the moment, and his vacation could wait a few more minutes in view of the fun this gorgeous woman promised. He’d made a vow to lighten up and take life less seriously, to recapture some of the fun and spontaneity he’d enjoyed before his father’s death. What could be more frivolous than playing along with her skit and enjoying the show?
She peered through the rear window to the back seat, taking in the items he’d packed for his trip, then slanted him a challenging look. “Going somewhere?”
He’d go wherever she led him. Giving her his most charming, persuasive smile, he tossed out a dare of his own. “Well, now, that all depends on what you have in mind, sweetheart.”
A slow, reciprocating smile curved her mouth. “I think you know exactly what I have in mind. Don’t make any sudden moves, do exactly as I say, and we’ll get along just fine.”
Her voice was smooth, but her words were firm and commanding. Too curious to see what she intended, he held up his hands in supplication. “You’ve got my full cooperation.”
“That’s good to hear, because your cooperation will make what I’ve got to do much easier for the both of us.” The barrel of her toy shotgun gestured him toward the back of the vehicle, closer to where she stood. “Put your hands on the trunk of the car, keep them there, and spread your legs.”
His brows shot upward in surprise, but he did as she ordered. He’d expected a striptease, nothing more, but who was he to put a crimp into her presentation? Pocketing his keys, he assumed the position.
He glanced over his shoulder at her, enjoying the kind of lighthearted, playful moment so reminiscent of the wild past he’d left behind. “I take it this is where I get frisked?” he asked, attempting to inject a bit of teasing between them.
She moved behind him, bringing with her a subtle scent of something soft and feminine. “Ahh, been through this before, have you?” Her voice held a slight cynical edge that added to the realism of her act.
“Actually, no,” he replied with a grin. “But I guess there’s a first time for everything.”
Pressing a hand against the center of his back, she holstered her shotgun in a leather loop on her belt. “It’s a standard search, Mr. Colter, just to be sure you aren’t carrying any concealed weapons.”
That all depends on what kind of concealed weapon you’re searching for. “It’s your show,” he drawled, “And I’m all yours, to do with as you please.”
She uttered a soft snort of laughter that stirred the hair at the back of his neck and sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine. With a booted foot tucked against his sneakered one, she widened his stance even more, then skimmed her slender hands along his shoulders and under his arms. She leaned closer to sweep her palms over his chest and abdomen, causing the lush fullness of her breasts to brush his back and her hips to graze his. Heat pooled in his groin and ignited like wildfire wherever she touched.
And she touched him everywhere. Impersonal, yet intimate at the same time. Her fingers dipped into the waistband of his jeans and followed the circumference around to his back where her splayed hands dragged over his back pockets. The curve of his buttocks received equal treatment, and then her thumbs followed the crease between his thighs.
He sucked in a quick breath as the tips of her fingers grazed very masculine territory. But the tantalizing caress didn’t last long—just fleeting enough to tempt and tease and arouse. She continued on, those capable hands traveling down the outside length of his legs, then she squatted to pat around his ankles and smooth her palms back up the inseam of his pants, all the way to the crotch of his jeans.
And still, she wasn’t done with her shameless exploration. Her hands slid around to the front of his thighs, checking the contents of his pockets through denim by grasping the material. She came into contact with his keys and loose change, and moved toward the fly of his jeans.
Every molecule in his body tensed, including that inherently male part of him she was about to frisk. He felt compelled to issue a warning. “If you’re not careful, sweetheart, you’re gonna end up finding the only concealed weapon I’ve got on me.”
“Luckily for you I’m trained in handling fire-arms.” Her sultry voice, laced with wry humor, drifted into his ear from behind him. “And I haven’t had one accidentally discharge on me yet.” She proved her claim by handling him gently and efficiently, finishing her search with quick precision.
An amused chuckle rumbled up from Dean’s chest. Not only was Jo Sommers gorgeous and sexy, but she was witty and sassy, too. Obviously, Brett had known she was exactly what he needed to alleviate the stress and seriousness that had consumed his life for too long.
She grasped his left hand from the car and brought it behind his back. Before he could ask what she meant to do, he felt cool metal encircle his wrist and snap tight. She repeated the process with his other hand, restricting both of his arms with those handcuffs he’d seen earlier.
Then she turned him around to face her, and he wriggled his wrists to see if they’d pop free from the toy handcuffs, only to discover that the metal shackles were the real thing. He came to the immediate conclusion that he didn’t like being restrained, even if it was part of this stripper’s routine.
“You know, there really is no need for the cuffs,” he said with a flirtatious grin. “I surrender willingly.”
She gave him an assessing, head-to-toe glance. “You seem like a really nice guy, and you’ve been more cooperative than most, but I don’t take chances with anyone. This is standard procedure.”
Her words didn’t make sense. With her warm fingers firmly grasping his elbow, she ushered him out of the garage and down the driveway toward the black Suburban that waited at the curb. A pleasant afternoon breeze riffled through his hair, contrasting with the unease trickling through him.
Had he misjudged this entire situation?
He was beginning to suspect he had, yet he couldn’t figure out her angle. If she was a stripper, she should have been down to a G-string and a come-hither smile by now.
“Mind me asking where we’re going?” he asked, displaying a casualness he didn’t completely feel.
She didn’t slow her long-legged stride, her silky ponytail bouncing against her shoulders with each determined step. “You know exactly where we’re going.”
“No, I don’t.”
She didn’t seem inclined to believe him or answer his original question. Reaching
