Present Day
Saturday, 5:20 p.m.
Laurel Blankenship Tagner slammed the door of her blue Lexus SUV, a gift from the judge, birthday before last, and leaned against it, arms crossed under her breasts.
She’d learned at thirteen to show off what she had. She had considerably more to show off, not to mention considerably more ways to show it off. That didn’t mean you shouldn’t make the most of the basics. Because it was too damn easy for people to take you for granted, to treat you like you were just anybody.
Well, not anymore.
She’d shaken things up plenty with Eugene and nobody would take her for granted now.
She smiled.
She’d shaken up Charlotte big-time, too. Her sister getting all cross-eyed over the possibility of her being single again hadn’t entered Laurel’s mind while she’d made her plans. It was pure, sweet bonus.
Charlotte had been beside herself with Laurel living back at Rambler Farm these past weeks. Even before Laurel had a little fun with Charlotte’s husband.
Ed Smith. God, even his name was boring, which matched his moves in bed — and with Ed, it was always in bed.
Sure, she’d let him screw her some before he’d settled for Charlotte, but Ed hadn’t been enough for her four years ago and he sure as hell wasn’t enough for her now on.
She had bigger fish to fry. And dammit, she wanted to get on with it instead of standing here freezing her ass off.
If he wasn’t here when the sun dropped behind the ridge, she wasn’t waiting around.
He hadn’t even bothered to call directly. Besides, why the hell had his message said to meet out here in the damned woods anyway? He knew she wasn’t an outdoors kind of woman.
That was one thing she’d liked. He did know — and appreciate — what kind of woman she was.
But she should have told him to forget it when he’d suggested this.
Although there’d been one second when she’d told him how things were going to be from now on…
Laurel rubbed her arms under the light sweater she wore. Too light for this early in spring, but his message had said to wear it for old-time’s sake. What the hell, might as well give the guy a bone. Besides the silk weave showed off her figure, and after this, she was going to Shenny’s. It was Saturday night, and she deserved to celebrate.
Damn him, where was he? It was cold. The noises from the woods were creepier by the second. Not just birds making a racket, but rustlings. Animals or something.
Hadn’t the judge talked about mountain lions at breakfast? She hadn’t paid much attention, not like Charlotte, hanging on his every word. Her older sister liked to pretend he was discussing issues with her, when he was really making sure she filled the library decanters before he took his cronies aside tomorrow.
More got done at the judge’s Sunday afternoons at Rambler Farm than the rest of the week put together. Charlotte was forever saying that. As if she’d started the whole thing, instead of filling in where Mama left off.
A new sound caught Laurel’s attention. It wasn’t the hum of a motor she’d been expecting, but it had damn well better be him. From habit, she adjusted her posture, dropping her arms to the best position under her breasts and cocking one hip to draw attention to the length of leg below her skirt.
The figure came from an unexpected direction and was hard to make out.
Hell, she didn’t care what direction he came from. Her wait was finished. Now, to get this over with.