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B.J. had never been one to enjoy an afternoon with absolutely nothing to do. Especially when she felt confined by decisions that were not her own.
Flipping discontentedly through the stranger's clothes in her closet, she dressed in the only outfit that seemed to suit her mood. Her own. The green camp shirt and khaki slacks had been laundered and pressed, and she donned them almost defiantly. The momentary surge of rebellion faded as she began to pace restlessly through the empty suite.
She couldn't nap and she had no interest in reading or watching television just then. She wished she knew what was going on in those meetings Daniel had been conducting with Drake for the past three days. It seemed clear that he was setting Drake up for something, but what? A bust? A scam?
It stunned her to think that she had made love twice to the man and she didn't even know whether he was a cop or a criminal.
Wouldn't he have already told her if he was a cop?
Someone tapped on the door. B.J. approached it cautiously, remembering Daniel's warning. She checked the peephole, then frowned. Now this was someone she hadn't expected at all.
“Ingrid?” She opened the door and looked questioningly at the woman on the other side. “This is a surprise.”
Looking as fashion-doll perfect as ever in a body-hugging white strapless sundress, Ingrid reached out to clutch B.J.'s shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I'm fine, thank you.”
“I heard about what happened to you. I can't believe Bernard was so stupid that he left you on the island all night.”
“He thought someone else had picked us up,” B.J. quoted dutifully.
Ingrid made a scornful sound. “The man is as dumb as a rock. I heard your husband punched him right in the mouth. I wish I had seen that.”
“Drake told you that?” B.J. asked in surprise. She hadn't thought Drake was in the habit of sharing gossip with Ingrid.
“Um…no. Someone else told me. Someone who saw it.”
The only other person who had witnessed the blow had been the handsome young man who had piloted the boat that collected them from the island. Noting In-grid's evasive expression, B.J. drew her own conclusions. But all she said was, “I'm sorry I missed your performance last night.”
“It wasn't your fault. Though I've got to admit I was pretty ticked off when you weren't there last night. I thought you'd blown me off after you heard my rehearsal.”
“No way. I was looking forward to it. How did it go?”
“Pretty good, I think,” Ingrid admitted with an uncharacteristic lack of hyperbole. “People said some really nice things when I was finished.”
“I'm sure you were great. I wish I'd heard you.”
“You're nice, you know?” Ingrid smiled, and for a moment B.J. caught a glimpse of how the pretty young Midwesterner might have looked before she'd gotten swept into a world of glamour and jaded wealth.
And then that moment of innocence was gone.
“You want to get out of here?” Ingrid asked, waving a perfectly manicured hand to indicate the suite. Diamonds glittered at her wrist and on her fingers with the movement. “Let's find something to do. Something expensive that we can charge to Judson, since his incompetent staff disappointed both of us last night.”
Thinking of Daniel's instructions to stay in the suite, B.J. hesitated, “Oh, I…”
“Come on,” Ingrid urged. “It will be fun. You don't want to just sit around all day waiting for your husband, do you?”
B.J. shook her head with a sudden rush of recklessness. “No, that isn't what I want to do at all. Let's go.”
“Great. Oh, and don't worry about your clothes,” In-grid added with a glance at the camp shirt and khakis. “You look fine.”
Not even that rather oblivious insult could change B.J.'s mind. Slinging her tote bag over her shoulder, she stepped out of the suite with Ingrid and locked the door behind her.
Chapter Eleven
B.J. and Ingrid spent the entire afternoon being pampered and prettified in the spa and salon. B.J. would have expected to hate every minute of a session like that, being touched and rubbed and fussed over by strangers, but it wasn't so bad.
By the time she and Ingrid parted outside the spa, her skin was soft and glowing, her hair lay in silky layers around her face and her limbs felt fluid and limber. Glancing at her polished fingernails and toenails, she decided she could see herself doing this again—just not anytime soon.
