“I agreed to a date, Meg.” She wasn’t even sure why at this point. “Something tells me he wasn’t going to let up until I did.”
“That and the fact that his kiss kept you up late at night with carnal fantasies.”
Judy wished she had something else to toss at her friend. “Why do I ever tell you anything?”
“Because I’m your best friend. If there was some hottie after me as much as Rick is after you, you sure as hell would know all my thoughts on the man.”
It was Judy’s turn to growl. “One date and he’ll stop calling me babe.”
“You like the babe. You grin every time you say it.”
“I do not.” Judy forced her smile into a firm line.
Meg cocked her head to the side and waited until Judy’s smile appeared again.
“Sometimes I really hate you.”
“No you don’t. You love me like I’m one of the Gardner clan. I expect a full report Saturday morning.”
“A good friend would accept my phone call in the middle of the night.”
Meg sat back in the chair and reached for the remote control for the big screen in Mike’s living room. “I’m just hoping you’ll be too busy to call in the middle of the night to bother with me.”
“I’m not sleeping with him, Meg.”
The TV sprang to life, the volume set way too high. “Yeah, yeah . . . I expect a call in the morning, where you’ll say, ‘Meg, I wasn’t planning on sleeping with him.’”
Judy finished her bottle of water and lobbed the plastic across the room, only to land at Meg’s feet. “Bitch.”
Chapter Ten
Rick had to admit, he’d not spent this much attention on the details of a date since he dated Sally Richfield, the lead cheerleader in high school and the second girl he’d ever slept with. He learned then that it didn’t take a lot to sway a teenage girl, but he didn’t know that going in and planned every detail of the date from the kind of flowers Sally liked to her choice of entrée. In the end, Rick had her in bed, where she returned for over a month before her steady boyfriend swayed her back.
No, Rick hadn’t worked as hard to date a girl since Sally. Judy was entirely different. She wasn’t playing hard to get because of a desire to attract an ex. She wasn’t saying no because she wasn’t interested. No, Judy was skittish because she was attracted and for some reason that eluded him, afraid to let herself go. Maybe after a night at the Getty, Rick would know the reason why.
A special event was taking place on the summer evening, some kind of Greek festival complete with special food and picnics on the grounds where guests could enjoy the sunset. He was fairly certain Judy had no idea about the event or she would have known how difficult it was to obtain tickets for the evening. Rick knew people . . . and those powerful people always had tickets to events as snooty as the one at the Getty on Friday night.
Rick knew nothing about art. He could take an AK apart blindfolded, but telling the difference between a Monet and a Rembrandt . . . not his gig. He wasn’t going to embarrass himself by pretending knowledge. Instead, he’d ask Judy. Let her educate him.
The phone on his desk rang, catching him off guard.
“Rick,” he answered.
“Hey, Smiley.” Neil used his old nickname from the service.
“What’s up?”
“Have you clicked into Michael’s today?”
Clicked into Michael’s meant the video and audio feeds. And since this was one of the days he wasn’t exclusive to monitoring, he hadn’t. He’d been busy researching the Getty and attempting to acquire the necessary tickets.
“No.” Rick walked with his cordless phone to the office space with the monitors. “Is there a problem?”
“Not sure. I’ve seen a car parked outside the gates a couple of times. Might be the paparazzi. He seems to have something he’s pointing at the gate when one of the girls leaves.”
The video feed outside Michael’s gate didn’t host any cars when Rick turned on the monitor.
“Do you have a recording?”
“I do. I’ve sent it over. It’s probably nothing. My guess is just some hopeful attempting to make a buck when Michael was in town. Odd that he didn’t clue in that the actor left a few days ago.”
Rick clicked into the feeds Neil sent him. Sure enough, a car sat outside the gate and took pictures of Meg and Judy leaving. He didn’t seem to wait long before he moved along, only to show up another time to do the same thing again.
“Are there any clear shots of this guy’s face?”
“None.”
“Hmm. Think we should alert Judy and Meg?”
Neil snorted . . . or let loose some sort of noise that resembled a snort. “Need an excuse to stop by?”
“No. In fact, I’ll be there tomorrow night to pick Judy up.”
Neil fell silent, then he asked, “Personal bodyguard?”
“No. Just personal.”
Neil laughed, encouraged him to watch the feeds, then hung up.
A lot of the staff left the office early on Friday. Taking advantage of the lack of eyes, Judy stretched the plans she’d been drawing up on a drafter’s table and spent some time attacking the details of her idea for the performing arts center.
At five, the office cleared out completely. Judy kicked off her heels and tuned in her radio station from her phone. Traffic right at five always sucked, so staying an extra half an hour would actually grant her a less stressful drive home. Going into her date with Rick stress-free would be a plus. Rick picking her up would give her a few more minutes to get ready.
She was singing along, off-key, to one of her favorite songs and mapping out details of an acoustic ceiling that would have to house several catwalks and rows of lighting, when she heard someone clearing their throat behind her.
A little startled, she swiveled to find Debra Miller, as in the Miller of Benson & Miller, standing behind her with a smile on her face. “I sure hope you draw better than you sing,” she said with a tiny lift of her eyebrows.
Judy scrambled with the control of her cell phone to turn down the volume. Heat met her cheeks. “Oh, sorry . . . I didn’t think anyone else was still here.” How embarrassing. She’d barely waved at Debra Miller in passing, knew who she was but had not yet needed to actually talk to the woman. She was in her midforties, dressed as a successful businesswoman should be, and slender enough to attract men half her age if she wanted to. Her dark hair shaped the side of her face. Artful, tasteful, and not overly done, her makeup looked as if she’d just applied it.