Read Online The Officer's Girl by Leigh Duncan - Free Book Online Page B

he wanted to snug her into his arms and keep her safe. He took another pull from the water bottle, trying to rinse away the bitter taste of adrenaline.
    “Are you all right?” he called.
    She looked better than all right. She wore workout clothes—by some famous designer, no doubt. Thin jersey stretched tightly across her ample chest. The pants clung in all the right places, right down to the spot where they ended on her shapely calves. The sun had slicked her skin and dampened her hair, turning it into a mass of dark ringlets he wanted to run his fingers through. He crossed the lawn again so they wouldn’t have to shout at each other.
    “I’m fine,” she answered with a nod in the direction the truck had gone. “They seemed harmless enough. I was handling it.”
    She had grit, he’d give her that. Not every woman would tackle the heavy shutters on her own, or recognize a con when she saw one. But unless people stomped and waved to resolve arguments where she came from, she was wrong about the “handling it” part. What would have happened if he hadn’t come along when he had? The back of his neckgrew hot again. His voice gruffer than intended, he asked, “Didn’t they warn you at the checkpoint about hiring con artists?”
    “I didn’t hire them,” she protested. “They were doing me a favor.” She pushed a tangle of curls from her face and her expression fell. “Or, at least, that’s how it started. So why didn’t you arrest them?”
    “Got here a little too early. No money had changed hands. Ergo, no crime had been committed.” He didn’t like the glum look she wore any better than he liked having to defend his actions. Shrugging one shoulder, he tried again. “Running them out of town saves jail space for those who truly deserve it. Looters. Drunk drivers. Ax murderers.”
    His answer tugged a smile from her lips, and the tension riding on his shoulders slipped a notch. In a minute or two, he’d get a call—someone would have run their car into a ditch or spotted a downed wire—and have to respond. Until then, he couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do than talk to Stephanie.
    “How were things in Orlando?” he asked.
    They stood on her lawn and discussed hurricanes and traffic until Brett felt his temperature drop to nearly normal. He had just started to hope his T-shirt might air dry before he climbed back into his cruiser when Stephanie switched subjects, choosing one that made him sweat for a whole new reason.
    “Thanks for the sleeping bag. It was a good thing to have.” She retrieved it from her car, which let him appreciate the way her hips moved beneath the clingy jersey. “I’ll drop your sweatshirt off at the station once the power comes back. I want to wash it. I hope you don’t mind that I wore it. I didn’t have anything else—”
    Brett’s thoughts flew to an image of Stephanie in hissweatshirt…and nothing else. The air around him grew warm. Forget the bottle of water. Where was a hose when you needed one?
    “—appropriate,” she finished.
    He didn’t have a hose, but the grass looked cool. He scuffed one foot through it, startling some kind of pink insect which flew off to the side.
    “Oh! There it is!” Stephanie cried. She dropped to her hands and knees, running her fingers through the grass where the critter had landed.
    “You like bugs?” he asked. They were a fact of life in Florida, but his last girlfriend had been scared to death by anything that possessed more legs than she did. As a result, Brett had been forced into pest control duty more often than he liked. A girl who didn’t mind a few bugs would certainly be different. “You need some help?”
    “No, that’s okay. I lost…something.” She stretched for the unidentified something, her top riding above a trim waistline. “And now I’ve found it.”
    Brett stared at a very nice inch of smooth, supple skin. He swallowed what felt like sand and felt the heat climb another degree.