balance and crashed to the ground, smacking his head against the fender of a truck on the way down.
By then Caleb had closed the distance between them. He reached for her arm without thinking. The same elbow came out again, but having caught this show before, he blocked it with the palm of his right hand. He snaked his left arm around her torso.
“Hang on,” he ordered.
She lifted her boot again, this time slamming it down into his shin, just above his own boot where it could actually do some damage.
“Sonofabitch!” he snapped.
He put both arms around her and twisted their bodies so he had her pressed up against the truck. He felt her slender fingers glide along his hand and knew he was about to get his fingers broken.
“Hey, now,” he protested, pulling her tighter into him. Her back was pressed against his chest. “Hang on,” he repeated. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”
She paused with her fingers resting over his. “Milo’s friend,” she replied, recognizing his voice.
“Yeah,” he said, letting go of her with one hand and reaching around behind himself. She stiffened again and started going for his hand when he drew out his wallet and flipped it open. The gold shield flashed in the yellow fluorescent light.
She stilled and Caleb felt reasonably certain he had the little hellcat under control. She had moxy though, and moves he hadn’t seen in quite a while, which made him intrigued and suspicious. “You got ID?” he asked.
She surprised him by laughing. “Why yes, Officer,” she teased. “Why don’t you frisk me for it?”
Caleb smirked, set his own wallet on the hood of the truck, and ran his hand along her hip. She wiggled a little. He found her wallet and slid it out of her back pocket. With one hand he flipped it open. “Isabelle Boucher.”
“My friends call me Izzy,” she replied.
Caleb moved his mouth to her ear. “We’re not friends,” he told her.
“Really?” she asked, and wiggled again. It was then Caleb became aware of a number of things. One, he was cupping her breast with his left hand. Two, he had a raging hard-on and it was pressed snugly into her Levi’s. “That’s not what the rocket in your pocket says,” she teased.
“Damn it,” he whispered and let go of her. He swiped his wallet off the hood and stepped away. He tossed hers back at her. Damn she was hot. Another button had popped during their struggle and a hint of black lace flashed at him. She was a damn good fighter, too. He looked away and chalked his erection up to adrenaline. “Are you alright?” he asked her.
She smirked at him. “You didn’t leave a scratch,” she said sarcastically.
Caleb rolled his eyes. “I meant him.”
The lumberjack was lying sprawled on the ground, moaning.
Isabelle shrugged.
Caleb slid his cell phone out of his pocket and began dialing.
“Who are you calling?” she asked. Caleb noted with some disappointment that she was fixing the buttons on her shirt.
“A ride for him,” he replied, nodding at the lumberjack.
She sighed. “Make it yellow instead of black and white. I’m late for a very important date.”
Caleb turned away from her to keep his eyes on the man who’d attacked her. “This is Officer Barnes,” he told the dispatcher. “Badge number 02765. I’ve got a drunk and disorderly at Maria’s bar. Assaulted a female.” He waited for confirmation that the closest cruiser was on its way, then he disconnected the call with a swipe of this thumb. “I don’t care what you’ve got going on,” he said. “You’re making a state—”
He turned and realized he was talking into thin air.
“What just happened?” whined the lumberjack, covering his face with one hand.
Caleb looked around the darkened lot but saw no signs of Isabelle Boucher. “I have no idea,” he replied darkly.
Chapter 9
Izzy would have loved to have stayed at the bar to play cops and robbers with yummy Officer Barnes, but she had more important things to do.
By then Caleb had closed the distance between them. He reached for her arm without thinking. The same elbow came out again, but having caught this show before, he blocked it with the palm of his right hand. He snaked his left arm around her torso.
“Hang on,” he ordered.
She lifted her boot again, this time slamming it down into his shin, just above his own boot where it could actually do some damage.
“Sonofabitch!” he snapped.
He put both arms around her and twisted their bodies so he had her pressed up against the truck. He felt her slender fingers glide along his hand and knew he was about to get his fingers broken.
“Hey, now,” he protested, pulling her tighter into him. Her back was pressed against his chest. “Hang on,” he repeated. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”
She paused with her fingers resting over his. “Milo’s friend,” she replied, recognizing his voice.
“Yeah,” he said, letting go of her with one hand and reaching around behind himself. She stiffened again and started going for his hand when he drew out his wallet and flipped it open. The gold shield flashed in the yellow fluorescent light.
She stilled and Caleb felt reasonably certain he had the little hellcat under control. She had moxy though, and moves he hadn’t seen in quite a while, which made him intrigued and suspicious. “You got ID?” he asked.
She surprised him by laughing. “Why yes, Officer,” she teased. “Why don’t you frisk me for it?”
Caleb smirked, set his own wallet on the hood of the truck, and ran his hand along her hip. She wiggled a little. He found her wallet and slid it out of her back pocket. With one hand he flipped it open. “Isabelle Boucher.”
“My friends call me Izzy,” she replied.
Caleb moved his mouth to her ear. “We’re not friends,” he told her.
“Really?” she asked, and wiggled again. It was then Caleb became aware of a number of things. One, he was cupping her breast with his left hand. Two, he had a raging hard-on and it was pressed snugly into her Levi’s. “That’s not what the rocket in your pocket says,” she teased.
“Damn it,” he whispered and let go of her. He swiped his wallet off the hood and stepped away. He tossed hers back at her. Damn she was hot. Another button had popped during their struggle and a hint of black lace flashed at him. She was a damn good fighter, too. He looked away and chalked his erection up to adrenaline. “Are you alright?” he asked her.
She smirked at him. “You didn’t leave a scratch,” she said sarcastically.
Caleb rolled his eyes. “I meant him.”
The lumberjack was lying sprawled on the ground, moaning.
Isabelle shrugged.
Caleb slid his cell phone out of his pocket and began dialing.
“Who are you calling?” she asked. Caleb noted with some disappointment that she was fixing the buttons on her shirt.
“A ride for him,” he replied, nodding at the lumberjack.
She sighed. “Make it yellow instead of black and white. I’m late for a very important date.”
Caleb turned away from her to keep his eyes on the man who’d attacked her. “This is Officer Barnes,” he told the dispatcher. “Badge number 02765. I’ve got a drunk and disorderly at Maria’s bar. Assaulted a female.” He waited for confirmation that the closest cruiser was on its way, then he disconnected the call with a swipe of this thumb. “I don’t care what you’ve got going on,” he said. “You’re making a state—”
He turned and realized he was talking into thin air.
“What just happened?” whined the lumberjack, covering his face with one hand.
Caleb looked around the darkened lot but saw no signs of Isabelle Boucher. “I have no idea,” he replied darkly.
Chapter 9
Izzy would have loved to have stayed at the bar to play cops and robbers with yummy Officer Barnes, but she had more important things to do.
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