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  “Boring,” he muttered, his temper spiking at the recollection. “Fucking nice.” A blonde woman, walking some poor frou-frou dog with ridiculous purple ribbons around its ears, gave him a quick sideways glance and then hurried along.

  He’d dated Cheryl for nearly six months and, while the breakup wasn’t completely unwanted, he’d actually expected he’d be the one doing the dumping.

  He walked down the sidewalk toward his car. As he approached, he realized he was blocked in by some asshole who’d decided to double-park.

  What the fuck?

  He glanced at the time on his cell phone. He was exactly ten minutes away from being late to work—on his first day in a new division. Great.

  He sucked in an annoyed breath and then an evil thought occurred to him. Pretty stupid to double-park next to a cop. Maybe he should clock in early. He disengaged the locks on his car, opened the door, and reached toward the passenger seat, where he had his ticket book. He was supposed to turn it in today. As a detective, that was one part of the job he was looking forward to leaving behind.

  Looked like he was about to write his last parking ticket.

  Cheryl’s voice rang in his ears, taunting him. Too nice, huh? Yeah, well, this person was going to see just how nice he wasn’t.

  He stood behind the light-blue convertible Bug and started writing down the tag numbers. If the owner didn’t show up in the next five minutes, he’d call for a tow truck. He did a mental tally of how much money this ill-advised decision was going to cost someone and let that figure soothe his anger.

  He finished filling in the information before tearing off the ticket and tossing the book back into his car. He’d just thrust the ticket into the back pocket of his jeans, prepared to wait for the car’s owner, when a pretty chestnut-haired woman walked out of the liquor store with a box full of bottles. She acknowledged his presence behind her car with a quick nod then proceeded to place the box on the passenger seat of her vehicle. Looked like she was having one hell of a party.

  She was an extremely attractive woman. He ventured to guess she was in her late twenties. Her light suntan told him she was either a sun worshipper or no stranger to a tanning bed. She wasn’t thin, though he wouldn’t say she was overweight either. When she bent down, he was treated to a pretty nice view of her full, round ass. He forced himself to look away before he forgot his purpose.

  When he didn’t move, she looked at him, her chocolate-brown eyes capturing his as she shrugged. “Parking is brutal in town these days.”

  He nodded. She had no reason to suspect he was a cop. He was dressed in street clothing and driving his own car. There wasn’t anything to clue her in to how screwed she was.

  “Double-parking is illegal.”

  His comment stopped her for a second and she looked at his Camaro. “Oh my God, is that your car? I’m so sorry. I swear I circled the block twice looking for a spot. I knew I’d only be inside for a few minutes. You couldn’t have been waiting long, right?”

  He hadn’t been standing on the street much time at all, but that wasn’t the point. “Long enough,” he muttered. Ordinarily, he’d have shrugged off the offense and issued the woman a warning. Problem was, he wasn’t in the mood to be generous. He was tired of being nice.

  His cold response tweaked her temper—anger flared in her dark eyes and strangely enough, it pleased him. He was itching for a fight.

  “I wasn’t in the liquor store more than ten minutes.” Her voice had lost some of its conciliatory tone.

  “Doesn’t really matter, does it? Whether you were double-parked for ten minutes or ten hours, it’s still a violation.”

  She narrowed her eyes, annoyed by his haughty tone. “What are you, a cop?”

  He grinned at her question and pulled the ticket out of his back pocket. “As a matter of fact…” He handed her the ticket, adding, “Detective Nolan.”

  She muttered a softly spoken but clearly enunciated “fuck” under her breath. “Listen, Detective—”

  He cut her off. He’d heard every excuse in the book during his years patrolling the streets. One of the best parts about being undercover with the drug task force meant he wouldn’t be subjected to angry retorts, tearful pleas or seductive come-ons as women tried to get out of tickets. “Save it for the judge.”

  “Judge?”

  “You clearly want to protest this injustice.” He was sure to imbue as much sarcasm into his comment as possible. “You can lodge your complaint in court, not to me. I’m late for work. So if you don’t mind—” He gestured to her car.

  Her eyes narrowed. “You know, you don’t have to be such a jerk about this. I wasn’t away from my car more than ten minutes.”

  “And because your time is more valuable than mine, you felt justified in parking illegally, blocking me in and breaking the law.”

  “Are you kidding me? Don’t you have any real crimes to solve, Detective? You have nothing better to do than harass a law-abiding citizen?”

  He raised his eyebrow at her comment. “Do you need me to define ‘illegal’ for you?”

  She placed her hands on her hips and leaned forward slightly. “Oh wow. Hello, Mr. Power Trip. Didn’t your mother ever tell you it doesn’t cost anything to be nice?”

  He released a bark of cold laughter. “What is it with you women? You want us to be nice when it suits you and bad boys when it doesn’t.”

  The woman looked confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  He shook his head. He was letting his anger at Cheryl carry over to the job. It was stupid and unreasonable. This woman didn’t deserve his abuse. However, before he could offer an apology or backtrack, the woman jammed the parking ticket into her jeans pockets. “Whatever. This sucks. You suck. Goodbye.”

  She quickly walked to the driver’s side and climbed in. He regretted letting her leave the second she pulled away.

  Shaking his head, he got into his own car, leaning his head against the headrest.

  She was right.

  He did suck.

  Chapter Two

  Stephanie rubbed a weary hand over her face. The Romantic Hearts book club meeting was in full swing as she dropped off the second round of Screwdrivers. She wasn’t sure what book they were discussing, but it must have been a hot one. The ladies were animated and laughing loudly over a certain racy passage.

  It was only seven o’clock, but she felt like she’d been on her feet for years rather than a few hours. She was still stewing over the parking ticket in her pocket. She’d never met a more arrogant, condescending police officer in her life. She had half a mind to storm over to the police department and file a complaint against Detective Nolan.

  The only thing holding her back was that ultimately she had been wrong. She should have known better than to do something so stupid. Her day had been one long string of bad luck. It only stood to reason that the first time she’d ever double-parked in her life, she’d block in a freaking cop. Murphy’s Law was having a lot of fun at her expense.

  She hadn’t told the other girls about the ticket upon returning to the bar because she was equal parts irritated and embarrassed. She’d just carefully stepped over the mat, put the liquor bottles on the counter and gotten to work.

  Surprisingly Thursdays were pretty good days for them, business-wise. In addition to the book club meeting, there were quite a few regulars who came to have a drink or two and unwind with a newspaper or the newest novels.

  Speaking of regulars, Stephanie took a detour to a chair in the corner. “You need me to freshen up your drink, Elias?”

  Elias Clark was Books and Brew’s most loyal patron. He came in two nights a week—Thursdays and Saturdays—and he always followed the same routine. He’d claim his chair in the quietest corner of the shop, drink two scotch and sodas—never more than two—and read the newspaper. Then he’d find Jayne and she’d talk him into buying a new book.

  “Thank you, Stephanie. I believe I am ready for my second glass.”

>   She picked up his empty tumbler and started to walk back to the bar, but Elias stopped her with a question. “You okay tonight? You seem tired. That’s not like you. You’re usually the life of this place.”

  She smiled at his compliment and shrugged easily. “I’ve had a long day.”

  A very long one, she thought.

  “Perhaps you could take off early?” Elias suggested. “Go home and rest. I bet the other ladies wouldn’t mind covering for you.”

  Stephanie glanced around the shop. Jayne was leading the book discussion, while Sophie and Jordan were helping various customers, either by finding books or serving drinks.

  She shook her head. “Only a few more hours until closing time. I’ll be fine ’til then.”

  Elias gave her a friendly smile and she felt grateful for his concern.

  She was halfway to the bar when she spotted a familiar face walking through the front door. She stopped in her tracks. Detective Nolan sauntered in like he owned the place and the temper she’d managed to subdue all afternoon flared hot once again.

  He glanced around the bar quickly, looking over at the boisterous book group as he took a seat at the end of the bar. His gaze missed her completely.

  Suddenly she felt as if the clouds on her lousy day had lifted and she’d been granted a bit of good fortune. She’d had hours to fume about the detective’s behavior and, as always happened, she’d thought of a million clever, cutting things she could have said to him after she’d driven away. She’d been pissed off about missing her opportunity.

  A smile crossed her face. Time for round two.

  She walked toward him.

  As if sensing sudden danger, the detective turned, his gaze catching hers as she approached. She enjoyed the myriad emotions that covered his face in the few short steps it took her to reach him—surprise, annoyance, anger and, finally, was that regret? The last pulled her up short for a moment, then she drew near.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t De—”

  The detective grabbed her shoulders, pulled her toward him and cut off her words with a kiss that left her stunned motionless for a full thirty seconds.

  What the hell?

  She put her hands on his chest and tried to push him away, but the man was relentless. He turned his head slightly, his tongue brushing her lower lip. She gasped and he took advantage, opening her mouth even more for his beautiful assault.

  Stephanie might be angry, but she appreciated a good kiss as much as the next woman, and it seemed a shame to interrupt the man when he was on a roll. Then she recalled the ticket and his rudeness. She shoved at his chest again, but he dipped his tongue in farther, the brief scent and flavor of peppermint on his breath making her mouth water.

  Anger. Arousal. Those two emotions seemed to be in direct opposition and she was torn. Should she break the contact—and his neck—or hang on and enjoy the ride? For all his personality defects, the cop could work magic with his mouth. Holy wow.

  He stroked her tongue with his, touching it with quick, teasing brushes. His hands moved from her shoulders to her face, cupping her cheeks, and Stephanie felt herself go molten, her panties suddenly wet. She was a sucker for a sexy kisser and a good face hold. God, she loved it when a guy touched her cheeks so sweetly.

  After a few hours, the detective pulled away, though his face was so close to hers, she could feel his hot breath on her skin. With a bit of distance between them, Stephanie’s wits began to return.

  “Are you mental?” she whispered, too breathless to speak louder.

  “No.”

  His answer was too quick, too pat, too unsatisfying.

  “You better have a damn good reason for doing that, Offi—”

  He covered her mouth with his again. Rather than repeating the initial, long, soul-searching kiss, this time it was harder, hungrier. The horny fool inside her returned the effort…with interest.

  The next time he moved away, he spoke first. “Is there somewhere private where we can talk?”

  She snorted. She couldn’t help it. “You just came in here and attacked me in my bar. I’m not about to go anywhere with you alone until you give me some answers.”

  The detective sighed heavily and then looked around, first at the bar and then over his shoulder, through the plate-glass window facing the street. Stephanie noticed he hadn’t released her and she was beginning to suspect it was to keep her in check.

  For what?

  “How about outside? The city street is private enough for our conversation, but public enough you don’t have to worry about me overpowering and taking advantage of you.”

  She heard the humor in his tone, but she also sensed there could be some truth to his admission. Of course, she wasn’t so sure she’d kick up much of a fuss should he try that overpowering thing.

  She looked at his quiet, serious face and just like that, she knew she’d be perfectly safe with him. Damn it. “Street’s fine, but make it quick. I’m working.”

  He grinned and her stomach lurched unsteadily at the sight. Detective Asshole, as she’d taken to thinking of him in her mind, was gorgeous. Stunningly so. With deep, rich brown hair and eyes so dark they looked black, he also had a small cleft in his chin that added a bit of interest to his perfectly put-together face.

  “You work here.” His words didn’t seem to be posed as a question so she didn’t answer. Instead, she followed him as he headed for the front door. He’d released her face, only to reach down and grasp her hand. She felt foolish and ridiculously happy to be holding his hand as they walked to the sidewalk, standing right outside Books and Brew. She noticed he was careful to make sure she was still in sight of her friends inside. She appreciated that small, thoughtful gesture.

  So much for first impressions.

  The detective was quickly becoming an enigma—asshole, sexy, arrogant, confusing. He pushed every button inside her and poked at every emotion. This was not good.

  Jarod turned to look at the woman he’d issued a ticket to earlier in the day and forced himself not to gloat over her kiss-swollen lips. He’d come to the bar while shadowing his first suspect as a detective. When he spotted the double-parker, he knew he was in serious danger of having his cover blown.

  When she started to speak, her voice about to loudly call him “detective”, he’d acted out of desperation, instinct and desire. Christ. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Stephanie Harper all day. He’d looked up her tag number as soon as he’d clocked into work. He’d found her name, address and the picture on her driver’s license. Her face had haunted him as he considered what a jerk he’d been.

  “Well?” she prompted when he failed to speak. He shook himself. He must look like a jackass. He’d used the kiss to silence her, but the ploy had backfired. The pressure his now-erect cock was putting on the thick, unyielding material of his jeans was painful.

  “Guess now I know why you bought all that liquor. I thought you were having a party.”

  Jesus. As far as opening lines went, that was probably the dumbest of all time. He tried to will his hard-on away. His brain needed a bit more blood flow.

  She gave him what he was coming to recognize as her standard what the fuck look and he tried not to groan.

  “I want to apologize for kissing you like that, but it was the quickest way I could think of to shut you up.”

  “Oh my God. You really are insane.”

  “No, wait,” he said, when she turned to walk away. “Let me explain.”

  She crossed her arms accentuating the full breasts in her tight T-shirt. He wished she’d put them back down. She wasn’t making this very easy on him. Standing face-to-face, there was no way for him to covertly adjust his cock without her noticing.

  “You have two minutes and then I’m going back inside. If you attempt to follow me, I’m calling for cops who aren’t fucking lunatics.”

  “I’m undercover.”

  “So?”

  “So you were about to blow my cover by yelling ou
t my name in there.”

  “I was hardly yelling.”

  He wanted to laugh because right now, she was definitely yelling. She had a rather boisterous way of speaking. He’d noticed it this morning when they stood outside. She wasn’t overly loud. She just had a strong, powerful voice. He bet her laughter was the same. Unfortunately, all he’d managed to provoke from her was disapproving scowls. And red-hot kisses. He could still taste her on his lips. The woman was sexy as hell.

  “I’m on duty and it’s imperative that no one in the bar know my real profession. I was hoping to come in and have a quiet drink without drawing any attention to myself.”

  Stephanie looked over her shoulder, peering through the window of the bar. “Who the hell could you be watching in there?”

  He grinned at her curiosity. “I can’t tell you that.”

  “So you’re undercover in my bar and you think the best way to silence me is to kiss me?”

  He shrugged. She could act as annoyed as she wanted, but he knew better. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

  “You were holding my mouth hostage.”

  He leaned closer, not sure why he enjoyed pushing her buttons so much. Something about her entire demeanor screamed of passion and fire and—God help him—sex.

  “You weren’t exactly fighting me off. In fact, at one point, your tongue was in my mouth.”

  “You annoy me, Detective Nolan.”

  “Jarod.”

  “What?”

  “My name is Jarod, Stephanie.”

  “Oh.” She frowned. “So you know my name. Trying to show off, Detective?”