Heated Moments

by Phyllis Bourne

  “Yes, sir. I believe I did.”

  “Did she hit him or not?” Dylan asked. His witness’s answers sounded nearly as shifty as his officer’s.

  “One minute he was standing, and the next he was on the ground with her standing over him,” Jeb said. “You tell me.”

  Exhaling, Dylan tried again. “I wasn’t there. Is it possible Wilson might have stumbled or fallen?”

  The young officer could be clumsy at times, especially when he was nervous, so it was a possibility.

  Jeb shook his head. “Nope, I’m pretty sure she decked him.”

  “But did you see her do it?” Dylan asked.

  “I saw the whole thing with my own two eyes.”

  Dylan studied the thick lenses in Jeb’s glasses and feared his witness’s eyesight was as dependable as his answers. “How far away would you say you were from the road?”

  The farmer shrugged. “Close enough to see it, but too far to get to them before the woman threw him in the car and took off.”

  “Was she facing him or did she attack him from behind? Did she hit him with her open hand or closed fist?”

  Jeb shook his head and waved a dismissive hand at the more specific questions. “I don’t know about all that, Chief,” he said. “I just know what I saw.”

  And that didn’t appear to be much, Dylan thought. “Thanks for coming into town to report it,” he said aloud. “I’ll give you a call if I have any more questions.”

  He’d gleaned precious little from interviews with Wilson and Jeb. Dylan looked at the few notes he’d taken. It was time he went to the source. He continued down the long corridor and turned the corner to the hospital’s waiting room. He stopped short in the doorway.

  The sight of long brown legs, crossed at the ankles and showcased by a pair of thigh-grazing shorts he was sure violated at least three town ordinances, grabbed his attention and held it.

  Damn. His gaze unwittingly traveled the length of them. The journey from the tops of her firm thighs to the pink-painted toes peeking out of high-heeled sandals was like a Sunday drive—long, slow and easy. He took the trip twice.

  She hadn’t noticed him yet. A curtain of dark hair shielded the side of her face as she rummaged through a giant pink purse. Dylan’s errant gaze slid to the curves of her calves and lingered.

  The word knockout came to mind all right, but in an entirely different context than the way Doc and Jeb had used it.

  Get a grip, man.

  A Cooper’s Place lawman was in the hospital, and this woman was suspected of putting him here. It wouldn’t do to have the town’s only other cop incapacitated, waylaid by legs that seem to go on for miles and miles. Legs that made him want to...

  Dylan closed his eyes briefly, forcing back illicit images of the sexy legs before him and replacing them with the sight of Wilson just minutes ago being taken by wheelchair for tests. It was time Dylan stopped acting as if he’d never seen a hot pair of legs before, and did his job. Besides, a woman with her reputation for brawling more than likely had taken a few punches to the face and it probably showed.

  Standing in the doorway, he cleared his throat to get her attention. “Lola Gray.”

  She looked up from the massive pink bag and tossed her dark hair over her shoulder. Dylan sucked in a breath as her movements revealed a face so exotically beautiful it kept him from stealing another peek at her legs.

  Almond-shaped eyes and lips slicked with something pink and glossy dominated her perfectly symmetrical features, giving credence to at least one of the rumors churned out from the gossip mill. She had the looks to be a model or actress.

  The woman in front of him was indeed a knockout. Again the word he’d already begun to associate with her popped into his head. So did another one: trouble. And Lola Gray looked like a ton of it.

  Dylan flipped the switch to cop mode. Unlike his rookie officer, he’d had plenty of experience interviewing suspects and shielding his thoughts. There wasn’t anything Ms. Gray could throw at him that he couldn’t handle. He noted her small hands, including her fists.

  “We need to have a talk,” he said, entering the room.

  The woman’s eyes, fringed with thick lashes that appeared to touch her high cheekbones when she blinked, widened. Dylan caught a glint of temper in them before they narrowed.

  “Don’t you people ever give up?”

  What the... Dylan was about to ask her what she was referring to when she looked around the room, muttering. He could make out the words hidden cameras and clowns, but the rest of what she said was unintelligible. Exhaling, he undid the top button on his uniform. He might as well get comfortable. It appeared this interview was going to be as frustrating as the ones he’d tried conducting with Wilson and Jeb.

  Only this one could very well end with an arrest.

  “Look, Ms. Gray,” he said, walking toward the row of chairs where she was seated. “I need to talk to you,” he repeated firmly, hoping she’d grasp the seriousness of the situation.

  She rose from the chair and met him in the middle of the small room. A wicked smile spread over those glossy lips as she touched a finger to the brief expanse of bare chest revealed by the opened button.

  “Oh, I’ll just bet you do.”

  Chapter 6

  Celebrity Pranks had overplayed their hand.

  This man was too sexy to be a cop, Lola thought. His face was all hard planes and masculine angles, softened by dark chocolate eyes with thick lashes and lips that appeared soft and very kissable. Her gaze lingered on those lips before drifting to the day’s worth of beard hugging his strong jawline, and then finally to the bangin’ body that screamed stripper loud and clear.

  But Lola wasn’t falling for the ruse. Still, she had to give the show credit.

  Good Lawd, they’d hired a fine one.

  His body brought one of her late grandmother’s sayings to mind: “Built like a brick house.” Muscles strained against his supposed uniform, tempting Lola to finish what he’d started. Her hands itched to grab him by the collar, undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt and tear it right off his back.

  She held off. Why risk breaking a fingernail? He’d come out of his clothes soon enough, seeing how it was his job.

  And she could hardly wait.

  “Well, Officer,” she said, emphasizing his title.

  “Actually, I’m the police chief here,” he corrected. “Chief Dylan Cooper.”

  “Ooh, even better.” Lola tapped her fingertip against his hard chest, before reluctantly pulling it away. “I’m dealing with a boss.”

  Frowning, he stared down at her, and Lola nearly laughed aloud at the confused expression on his face. Apparently, he was used to having an unsuspecting victim to pull a prank on, but the real joke was on him and the show. Despite the uniform, complete with a fake tin badge, Lola knew exactly who this man was and what he’d come here to do—and she was ready.

  “Ma’am, I don’t think you realize how much trouble you could potentially be in,” he said.

  The timbre of his deep voice sent a shiver down to her toes, which curled against the straps of her sandals. She’d bet Chief Cooper or whatever his real name was came home after a night of gyrating that body with women’s handprints all over him and a G-string crammed with dollar bills.

  Already she was having difficulty keeping her hands to herself. Lola figured she’d have to sit on them when he stripped down to nearly nothing.

  She craned her neck to look up at him. At five foot ten inches tall, she towered over most men when she wore heels, but not this one.

  “Mister, oh...” Lola briefly covered her mouth with her fingertips in a dramatic gesture she hoped conveyed to both him and whoever was monitoring the footage from the show’s well-hidden camera that she knew they were full of it. “I mea
n Chief,” she corrected. “Haven’t you heard? Trouble is my middle name.”

  He shook his head, before lightly grasping her shoulders with his large hands. His deep brown eyes bored intently into her eyes as if he were examining them. “Are you high on something?” he asked, and then looked over her shoulder. “Are there drugs in your bag? Or on you?”

  Lola threw her head back and laughed. These people were really pulling out all the stops. She dabbed at the tears in her eyes. Then an idea popped into her head. Maybe she should flip the script, she thought, and pull a prank of her own.

  Don’t do it, her sensible side warned, but it was overruled by an impulse too delicious to resist.

  “Of course I’m not high. I don’t do drugs,” she said.

  He dropped his hands to his sides, and Lola instantly missed their warmth penetrating her bare skin. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d been touched by a man who wasn’t just an assistant on a photo shoot positioning her for the camera.

  Then Lola remembered. This man was also on a job.

  Moreover, she had a tremendous opportunity waiting for her that could turn into a dream career if she played her cards right. So she needed to wrap up things with Chief Cooper, check on the real cop she’d brought here unconscious earlier and hit the road.

  “Look, this has been amusing, but I’m a busy woman.” Lola looked at the clock on the wall and then back to him. “Just do what you came to do and get it over with.”

  His stone face was unreadable. Only an almost undetectable tic along the cop-slash-stripper’s jawline revealed his annoyance that this scene wasn’t unfolding the way he and Celebrity Pranks had planned.

  “I’ve tried to do just that ever since I walked through the door.” He pulled a pen and small pad from his shirt pocket. “Let’s begin with what happened out on—”

  Unable to believe the guy was still playing cop, Lola abruptly snatched the pen and pad from his hands. She flung them to the other side of the room.

  “What the—” he began.

  Lola folded her arms across her chest. “Either strip or, as the old saying goes, get off the pot.”

  “Huh? Strip? What on earth are you talking about?”

  Her gaze fell below his belt, before returning to meet his. She lifted a brow and watched his jaw drop as he grasped her meaning. Lola figured the pranks weren’t so hilarious when the celebrity they selected to play stooge had them all figured out.

  This guy was good, Lola thought again. She’d nearly bought his surprised act. Maybe he was stripping while he waited on his break as an actor. He was certainly good-looking enough. He must drive the women at the club he worked at wild.

  Lola had to admit to hotly anticipating the private show to come.

  “Are you nuts?” he asked incredulously.

  “Do you use this innocent bit in your act? I’ll bet it, along with those chocolaty-brown eyes of yours, melts the panties right off ’em.”

  “Act? What act?”

  Lola sighed. “I’ve just about reached the end of my patience waiting on you to take off that costume and shake that sexy ass of yours.”

  His dark eyes rounded. “Oh, my God,” he whispered. “You actually believe I’m a...” His voice faded.

  “Well, what are you waiting on?” Lola asked. “Or do I need to grab my wallet and start making it rain?”

  The “Chief’s” mouth opened and closed again, making him look like a fish gasping for air. “I can assure you I’m this town’s police chief.” His full lips firmed into a line.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Lola dismissed his declaration with a wave of her hand.

  “Lady, I am not a stripper.”

  Fed up with the innocent act, Lola decided it was time to show him and the producers, once and for all, that they’d messed with the wrong woman. As her brother often said, the best defense is a good offense.

  “What you need is a little loosening up to get this show on the road and that cop costume on the floor.” She hoped wherever the hidden camera was stashed it captured the look on his face when she laid her next move on Chief Cooper.

  Lola fisted his shirt collar and yanked the stunned stripper toward her, a move that left those lips of his scant inches from hers. She stared at them a moment, before licking her own.

  Why the hell not, she thought. Who knows when she’d be this close to a man this gorgeous again? Besides, this was something best done before he got naked.

  “Maybe this will get you in the mood.” With the element of surprise tilted in her favor, Lola stood on the tips of her toes and closed the scant inches separating their lips.

  His body stiffened in reaction to the bold move. His mouth, which had appeared so kissable moments ago, was as hard against hers as his broad chest. Lola shouldn’t have felt disappointed. After all, they were strangers. The man was on a job, and her only intention had been to make it as difficult as possible.

  She was on the verge of unfurling her fingers from his collar when his mouth suddenly softened and his big body relaxed. He ran his tongue over the seam of her lips and she parted them, now eager to see if he tasted as good as he looked.

  He did.

  Lola moaned as his tongue delved into her mouth. Kissing him had been her big brainstorm to throw the man off his game. However, it appeared the stripper name “Chief” suited him, because he’d taken control of both the kiss and the game.

  Lola clutched his collar to keep from melting against him and sliding onto the floor. His tongue continued to explore her mouth in strokes as slow and easy as a summer afternoon. She felt his large hand at the base of her back, and unexpected warmth flowed through her.

  He smelled of sunshine, and his embrace made her feel at home, as if she’d been waiting to kiss him her entire life. And she didn’t want to stop. Apparently, the feeling was mutual. The hand at her back pulled her closer, and Lola wrapped her arms around his neck.

  He felt, he smelled, he tasted so damn good, she thought, pressing against him.

  Then she remembered.

  This wasn’t real. The man was working, and his job was to make a fool out of her.

  Still, it took her traitorous body a moment to get on the same page as her brain. Releasing his collar, Lola planted her palms on his chest and pushed, wrenching her mouth away from his. A foot of space now separated them, but their gazes remained locked.

  Lola steeled herself against the obviously practiced look of surprise on his face. It didn’t matter how great a kisser he was or that he had a body that would play a starring role in her fantasies for nights to come. She wasn’t about to give Celebrity Pranks the satisfaction or video footage of her looking as if she was falling for a stripper.

  Time to take back the control she’d momentarily lost along with her damned mind. Take this, she thought. She rounded the police chief and with her good hand smacked him soundly on the ass.

  “Now take off your clothes and dance!”

  The sound of female laughter drew Lola’s attention to the doorway of the waiting room. The nurse she’d met earlier leaned against the doorjamb with her arms folded over her chest. “Now that’s a sight I’d like to see myself.” Avis winked. “I see you’ve gotten acquainted with our chief of police.”

  Lola’s jaw dropped.

  “P-police chief?” she croaked, hoping she’d heard the woman wrong.

  “Yes, police chief.” The deep baritone of the man she’d assumed was a stripper rumbled behind her, confirming the fact that she’d really screwed up this time.

  Lola closed her eyes briefly. She covered her mouth, which still tingled from the aftershocks of his kiss. One thought reverberated through her head.

  Oh, crap.

  * * *

  “Do you finally have it through your head that I’m not an entertainer?” Dylan ask
ed. He didn’t wait for an answer before firing off another question. “What made you think something so absurd in the first place?”

  He watched her slowly remove her hand from her mouth to reveal the lips he’d tried to devour just moments ago. Her lipstick had been kissed away, leaving her lips a natural shade of pink he found even more enticing.

  Fortunately, she’d put a stop to it, before a kiss that shouldn’t have happened in the first place got totally out of hand. Otherwise, Avis might have walked in on an entirely different scenario, Lola Gray sandwiched between him and the wall, those long legs of hers wrapped around his waist.

  Dylan drew an unsteady breath. Her out-of-the-blue kiss didn’t disturb him as much as his reaction to it. What was the matter with him? This wasn’t like him at all. He always kept his cool, especially when he was working. But one touch of this woman’s lips had unleashed something inside him he hadn’t known existed.

  A need to get laid, he reasoned. It was the only explanation he could come up with for his uncharacteristic behavior.

  It was just a kiss, but he was acting like a high school geek who’d garnered the attention of the homecoming queen. Dylan could feel Lola Gray as if she were still in his arms. The scent of her sultry perfume, exotic and spiked with coconut, clung to his uniform. Her sweet taste lingered on this tongue.

  “Does this mean you won’t be dancing naked, Chief?” the nurse asked from the doorway.

  “No,” Dylan said, emphatically. His eyes remained on Lola.

  “That’s too bad,” Avis replied.

  Dylan turned to the nurse and frowned. “I’m trying to conduct an investigation here, Avis. Do you mind?”

  The nurse pulled away from the doorjamb. Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “Okay, I’ll go, but remember, the doc and I are just down the corridor if that spanking she was giving you gets out of hand.”

  “But I wasn’t...” Lola Gray called out after Avis. It appeared as if she had more to say, but she sighed instead. She turned her attention back to him. “I apologize for the misunderstanding, Chief Cooper.”