Armed & Desired

by D. C. Stone

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Armed & Desired

  Copyright © 2013 by D.C. Stone

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-580-2

  Cover art by Mina Carter

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

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  www.decadentpublishing.com

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  Armed & Desired

  A 1Night Stand Story

  By

  D.C. Stone

  ~DEDICATION~

  To those who finally take that chance: may you get yours.

  Chapter One

  Patrol Supervisor Alyssa Bloom lifted her cup of coffee and took a sip. Across the small shop, her partner worked his magic with the Starbucks barista. A lazy smile curved his full lips almost too plush to be considered masculine. Nate Wilshire leaned across the counter and ran one long finger along the side of the young woman’s face. A high-pitched giggle reached Alyssa’s ears moments later and she stifled a groan, but gave in to the teenage urge to roll her eyes. His little act seemed to be the same ole story, just a different day.

  Assigned as her partner six months earlier, Nate, at the ripe age of twenty-six, took to his job like an alcoholic to whiskey and jumped at the chance to learn. Her responsibility included having his back and training him to be a top-shot officer. She hoped she could follow through with the action plan, instead of letting her hormones get the better of her.

  Standard issue blue cargo pants fit his muscular legs as if made specifically for him. Cloth cupped him with the same care a mother cradled her newborn child. Smothering her own feminine sigh, she stopped her blatant perusal when her eyes met his blue-gray stare.

  He winked at her and his smirk grew until a flash of perfect white teeth made their appearance. She got lost in the view of flawless masculinity standing beneath the glow of sunlight flooding the shop through large windows.

  Nate rested one of his hands on the top of his duty-issued Beretta 9mm, secured to the heavy belt sitting above trim hips. With his profile facing her, she had an impeccable view of a muscular ass that popped out with the right amount of padding. She ran her gaze over a flat stomach, wide shoulders, and a chest any woman would love to rest her head upon.

  “Baker, Alpha niner.” The radio cracked next to her ear.

  Snapped from fantasyland, she keyed the mike resting on her shoulder. “Baker, Alpha niner, go.”

  She focused on Nate and he stared at her with a frown, an expression she’d caught on his face more than once in the past few days. What the hell is that all about?

  “Christ, get a grip or a new partner,” she muttered.

  “Baker, Alpha, respond code two for an 11-81 at 1134 Main Street. Roger?”

  “Baker, Alpha, 10-4, code two.” Only a minor-injuries call. Shouldn’t take long.

  She turned toward the exit just as Nate reached her side. He wrapped a warm hand around her fingers, taking the keys from her hand. The small contact had her stomach flipping and tingles forming between her thighs. She repressed a shiver, tossed the half-empty cup in the trash, and followed.

  Bright sunlight danced off his golden hair, sending shock waves of pure delight to her visual senses. Her mind had strayed again and she cursed. The day needed to be over in the worst way. Ready for tonight, she willed the clock to tick faster, silently pleaded for the sun to sink lower, all the while nibbling on her lip, resisting the urge to jump on her too-hot partner and have her wicked way.

  They hopped in the cruiser and she flipped on the overhead lights, buckled her seatbelt, and regarded the pedestrians jumping out of Nate’s way. Engine roaring, they sped out of the parking lot and down the road.

  “Any word what the injuries are?” His low voice rumbled over the reverberation of the vehicle. She shifted her weight, keeping her balance with the curves then reached for the laptop on the turnstile stand between the driver and passenger’s seat. Their message for the response already waiting, she scanned and acknowledged the service call.

  “No, seems minor injuries sustained from a traffic accident. One white male was witnessed crashing into a parked car.”

  Arriving, Nate notified dispatch of their presence on scene.

  “Baker, Alpha niner is 10-8 at 1134 Main Street.”

  “Baker, Alpha, 10-4.”

  Alyssa pushed out of the car and stood back, studying the accident. A late-model red Ford Focus sat on the sidewalk of the right side of the street, the front end T-boning a newer Ford Taurus SHO. Her partner crossed in front of her, approaching the identified driver of the Focus, who rested against the open driver’s door. The kid, no older than seventeen, appeared to be okay, minus some scratches on his face and a cradled arm to his chest.

  Trying to make sense of the scene in front of her, she studied the track of tire marks in the grass behind the car. A wide arc cut across a green lawn in front of a peach-colored rancher. Red bricks had been knocked over from what she assumed was the vehicle, destroying the raised landscaping protecting beds of red, pink and white magnolias.

  She lifted a brow and walked toward a glint of sun reflected in the grass next to a large tree. A side view mirror matching the same color of the Focus lay there.

  “What in the hell?”

  Preserving evidence, reconstructing a scene, and determining fault were the goals in a traffic accident investigation. Seeing as there was major property damage, a full scale review would need to be conducted. She turned toward the young driver. The kid talked with excited motions, using his hands to emphasize his story, while her partner took notes, nodding his head. Nate’s body drew taut, his features morphing into a pained expression, as if he had bit a lemon.

  Laughing, she shook her head, then crossed the bright green lawn sprinkled with torn clumps of grass and scattered lumps of dirt.

  “So, Mr. Smith, can you tell me how you managed to end up on the inside of the sidewalk and parked cars?” she asked.

  The kid’s mouth popped open and he searched the yard, almost as if he sought an idea in the lands
cape. Beside her, Nate crossed his large arms. His biceps strained the cloth. She wanted to sink her teeth into his muscles, would have preferred just an hour of her day to stare at him, unimpeded. She forced her attention on the teenager. With a defeated sigh, his shoulders sank forward.

  “I really don’t have an excuse.”

  Behind her, an ambulance whined, and whirred to a stop, its slow idle kicking up in park. The EMTs jumped from the rig and walked around to the rear of the vehicle.

  Her patience thinned. She tapped her foot on the ground. Her skin itched, and she bit her tongue under the compulsion to yell, demand an answer. With each passing second, her ire rose. The kid’s lips clamped shut.

  “Well, why don’t you just tell us what happened?”

  The teenager shifted, looking anywhere but them. She snapped.

  “Listen here, kid. You can decide to tell us exactly what happened and not have to make a trip downtown. I’ll also spare you the expense of dealing with a tow yard across town if you can level with me and give me the truth. You want to be straight, or piss me off?”

  She glared at him then sucked in a sharp breath, distracted, as Nate’s woodsy cologne teased her nostrils. He shifted and the scent of pure, raw sex slammed into her senses. God, she could not think with him so close. Taking a step forward, she slapped a hand on the hood of the car. The kid startled and he glanced between her hand and face, biting his lip.

  “Well, ma’am,” he began, and that pissed her off even more. Don’t call me ma’am. “I was coming home from my friend’s house, went to pull into my driveway. Instead, I drove into the wrong house and collided with a tree I don’t have.”

  He stared at her expectantly, almost like his story made sense. She squeezed her lids together and tried for patience. He has to be high, drunk, something. He can’t be serious.

  “Wait, you drove into the house?”

  He bobbed his head. “Well, I was about to drive into the house, but saw it wasn’t mine, and I jerked the wheel around to avoid it. Unfortunately, that put me on the path for that sweet ride.” He gestured his uninjured arm toward the pretty little, T-boned charcoal SHO before he continued. “And since I couldn’t stop, I stepped on the gas and crashed into the car.”

  Alyssa’s mind spun at the madness of his statement. She pinched the bridge of her nose, focused on the soft sounds of birds chirping in the trees, tires moving over pavement in the distance, the gentle wind, anything other than the accident, this kid, and his outlandish story.

  Tonight could not come fast enough.

  “Did you hit your head?”

  Nate chuckled, and she wanted to knock both of them upside their heads. His laugh sounded too smooth, like melted chocolate gliding over skin. The image of him bathed in the delicious treat rolled through her senses and she gritted her teeth, fighting the impulse to lick up the side of his neck. She whimpered, the sound too soft to carry.

  Only a few hours to go.

  The driver lifted one brow and drew back. “Um, no?”

  Without a word, she waited for him to say more, didn’t think the conversation could get any odder until he spoke again, apparently deciding to toss himself under another bus.

  “Well, at least this time I didn’t hit anyone.”

  She blinked. “Do what?” Nate attempted, but failed, to smother a laugh with a cough. Glaring at him, she refocused on the driver.

  The kid bounced on his heels. “Yeah, the last time some pedestrian hit me and went under my car. He came out of nowhere.”

  Alyssa stared at him for long, silent moments, the pure seriousness on his face imploring her to believe his story. She tossed her hands in the air and left her snickering partner and the idiot teen before waving at the paramedics headed their way.

  “Take him away, please.”

  Nate grinned at his partner’s back. She sauntered, her hips swaying slightly, her pert ass begging for a man’s touch. Underlying sensuality oozed from her. Hell, he’d seen her out of uniform at the gym, and the small glimpse of skin the workout clothes awarded everyone had been enough to make his blood boil.

  Taller than most women, she stood inches shorter than his six-foot-two, with an athletic body and curves in all the right places, refreshing to see a woman with some. Fashion and Hollywood magazines had women gracing their covers with models so thin they wouldn’t hold up under a hard gust of wind. But a body like Alyssa’s made a man want to howl with gratitude. Nothing like the stereotype in the media, she illuminated every fantasy he’d had since hitting puberty. She attracted attention in a crowd, her height and commanding nature giving her a necessary advantage. With glimpses of her in action, he had to admit a very sexy woman existed beneath the uniform.

  After the paramedics loaded the idiot of a kid into the ambulance, he headed over to the cruiser. Alyssa sat in the passenger seat talking on her cell phone and met his stare when he rested against the rear door.

  “All right, Joe, we’ll be here. You’re going to have to see this in order to believe it.”

  She let out a low, husky laugh that coiled a ball deep in Nate’s gut. The sound was meant for late nights with hot sex, dirty words, and nearly illegal acts done to a body. He tried to ignore it, rolled his shoulders, shook his shirt to cool raising internal temperatures, cursed with keeping his partner—or his hands—to himself.

  “Yup, see you then.”

  Alyssa disconnected and got out of the vehicle. Strawberries wafted across his senses and he ground his jaw together, compelled to reach out and take her in his arms. As his superior, she hadn’t shown any signs of being interested in him, and he would not become that guy to push. It would make things very awkward, especially when they needed to back one another up in high-tension and dangerous situations.

  “The tow truck should arrive in the next fifteen minutes.”

  “All right.” He studied her, saw the strain around her sea-green eyes. Tension formed wrinkles, surprising since she was one of the calmest and in-control officers on the force. Hair the color of a deep orange sunset sat in a bun at the base of her neck. She had shown for work once with it braided. He’d stared at it for a good fifteen minutes, lost in how thick and long it had been, the width of it almost as wide as his wrist. He wondered how it would be unbound and loose. Often times, just the sight of it led him into a fantasy where he crushed his palms through the red tendrils and yanked her head back, tilting her full rose-colored lips up to his….

  “Can you believe this kid? You think he’s smoking something?”

  He smirked. “I honestly have no clue.” Pausing, he focused across the lawn, followed the path of destruction before ending with the car parked on the sidewalk. “You seem a little worked up, Sarge. Anything you want to talk about?”

  At his side, she sat up straight and whipped her head around to him. He kept his gaze forward, refused to face her while standing inches away. He didn’t know what he’d do if he became enraptured with her so close, didn’t think he had the strength to withstand that kind of test.

  “Nothing too concerning. I’m waiting on word from that promotion package I put in. It must be bothering me more than I thought.”

  Liar.

  They both knew it to be a lie; she had the job in the bag. The captain of the Detective’s Bureau had approached Alyssa and asked her to submit a package. Nate had no doubt she’d be leaving patrol soon and moving up the ranks, as she well deserved.

  She shifted and something brushed his arm. It was her, and without checking—no fucking way—he could only hope it was the swell of her breast. He dug his right hand into his upper thigh. The square root of nine is three, of sixteen is four. Shit, she smells amazing.

  Jesus. How fucking pathetic could he be? Pining over a woman who didn’t have an inkling of interest in him, unless during the course of duty. She’d made it clear on more than one occasion that they were partners and nothing more, evident in the way she talked to him, in what she revealed, and her closed-off approach whenever they were
together.

  Fuck it.

  He stared into a pair of irises that reminded him of the Caribbean ocean, light green with hints of blue only the sun could uncover. She didn’t give off the appearance of a hardened officer who’d been on the force for five years. Outside of the uniform, there was no way to tell that little fact. She had a heart-shaped face, a petite nose, and full, lush lips begging to be kissed.

  “What about you, Nate? You doing okay with everything?”

  Her gaze searched his and he held it, proud as hell. “I’m doing fine. Been keeping up with my partner, right?”

  Her pink lips quirked and her expression crinkled with amusement. “I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to completely keep up.”

  His interest piqued. Was she flirting with him?

  “Oh, I think I could keep up plenty, Alyssa. I might also be able to teach you something in the process.”

  Her gorgeous eyes widened, but he kept his face neutral, imagining concrete binding him in place. He’d tossed the line out to see if she’d take the bait. Her lustrous eyes lowered to his mouth and in response, he licked his lips.

  “It’s too bad.”

  He cocked brow, wholly interested in how the conversation would proceed. “Too bad about what?”

  She studied his mouth for a few moments. “It’s too bad we’ll never know, huh?” Before her words sank in, or he had the chance to respond, she headed toward the tow truck driver, Joe, who’d arrived on scene. She lifted her hand and waved in greeting to the plump, older man.

  Nate sat against the car again. “Damn.”

  It served him right. Everyone on the force warned him not to mix duty with pleasure. He reached for his cell phone, searched, and brought up his messenger history for Madame Evangeline with 1 Night Stand. His cousin, Matt, had used the service, said it had been an unforgettable, life-changing night. The lucky SOB was now engaged to the woman he’d met on his date. Nate craved a distraction from the way Alyssa made him feel. Perhaps, if things went as well as they had for Matt, he’d be able to get the lovely Alyssa out of his mind. Before he did something rash, like kiss the ever-loving shit out of his partner, he needed to sate his lust, redirect his energy, and find something he could build on with a woman willing to give as much as he.