Naughty Wish

by J. H. Croix

  “Fender bender. No biggie. My bumper’s crushed on one side, but that's not why I was so late. We had to wait for a tow truck because my tire rim also got bent, which gave me a flat tire. The police officer arranged for the tow truck. The repair shop said they'll have the bumper and my tire repaired by the end of the day. I was hoping you didn't mind dropping me off to pick it up later.”

  “Of course not. Nice of the police to call a tow truck for you.”

  I couldn't help but grin. I was rather shameless when it came to appreciating men.

  “Oh, it was great. You're not gonna believe it, but the cop was a British guy. He went to university here and stayed. He's delicious.”

  Zoe leaned back in her chair and grinned. “Oh, you don't say? Let me guess. You asked him out for dinner?”

  “I tried! He said no and said it wouldn't be proper. But I got his name, and I'm gonna look him up and call him again.”

  Zoe burst out laughing.

  At that moment, the door pushed open and Zoe’s husband Ethan stepped through. Ethan didn't do a thing for me, but I could definitely appreciate a handsome man, and man, oh man, was he ever handsome. He had honey blonde hair, green eyes, and a body to die for. I didn't suppose one could be a professional soccer player and not have that. Throw in his endearing dimple, and plenty of women melted on sight. Zoe didn’t melt, but she adored him.

  Ethan stepped over and dropped a lingering kiss on the side of Zoe’s neck. She blushed and swatted him away. He merely chuckled and sank down into the chair beside her. Glancing at me, he nudged his chin up. “Hello, Jana. How are you today?”

  “Oh, I had a fender bender, and I got pulled over by a hot British cop,” I announced.

  Ethan grinned while Zoe rolled her eyes.

  “What are the chances of that?” she mused, glancing to Ethan.

  He lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “No idea, but I happen to know a British cop though.”

  “Of course you do, you’re from London,” Zoe said.

  “Luv, I know one here,” he said, throwing a teasing grin her way.

  Zoe wasn’t easily ruffled, but Ethan had her number. It annoyed her to no end he flirted just by opening his mouth.

  “Really? How many British cops could there be in Seattle?” I asked.

  “Well, Finn Connors is the only one I know, and the only reason I know him is he used to play football in university. He was on his way to the pros when he got in a nasty car accident. By the time he recovered enough to play again, it was almost two years later.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked, knowing this had to be the same Finn and grappling to absorb this information. His life had been spun off track in stunning fashion.

  “Completely serious. Finn was a brilliant playmaker, one of the best, and probably would've been signed to a great team. I don’t know all the details, but he broke both of his ankles in that accident. Took a bloody long time for him to recover. He might've been able to make a go for it, but a year and a half passed. He wasn't eligible to play for university anymore and that was it. Finn’s a good bloke. I’ve had a few beers with him here and there when we run into each other.”

  My mind conjured up that delicious image of Finn. No wonder he was in such good shape. He was an ex soccer player. I wondered what it was like for him to see a career like that go up in smoke. It only made me all the more curious about him.

  I looked over at Ethan. “So do you ever see him?” I asked. “I've never even heard you mention him.”

  Zoe rolled her eyes, casting a glance toward Ethan. “Jana thinks he's hot,” she offered in explanation. “That’s why she’s being so nosy.”

  Ethan cracked a grin. “Well, I shan't say I think he's hot, but I can imagine you would. He was engaged for a bit. That's why he stayed in the States. Anyway, she dumped him a few days before the wedding. It was bloody ugly. I don't know Finn well enough to know how it went, but rumor had it he was pretty broken up over it. I'm surprised he’s still around in Seattle.”

  I instantly wanted to beat up the nameless woman who dumped Finn. What foolish woman would dump a man like him? Aside from the fact he was so hot I wanted to eat him up, he seemed quite nice. I didn't appreciate it when nice people got shafted.

  “So do you ever see him?” I repeated.

  Ethan shook his head. “Not much.”

  I leaned back in my chair with a sigh. I'd been hoping I had an opening with him. No such luck. Fine.

  Zoe merely shook her head. “I’m sure you’ll track him down,” she said as she stood from her chair.

  Ethan stood with her, slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her right up against his side. He was rather handsy with her, and I loved it because it meant he adored her. They left to go to lunch, and I hopped on my computer, determined to see if I could scout down Finn Connors.

  Chapter 4

  Finn

  Roughly a week after my encounter with the delectable Jana, I pushed through the door into Desert Isle Coffee, one of the coffee shops I frequented around Seattle. Truth be told, Jana had been in and out of my thoughts all week. As far as fantasies went, she was making herself at home in my brain. Ever since Kristen and I broke up, I'd been rather cynical about even the idea of dating. It's not that I was celibate. I wasn't that foolish, but I definitely kept things casual as far as dating went. In my encounters through the course of my job and life, Jana held the distinction of being the one and only woman I couldn't stop thinking about.

  I kept wondering if I should've answered differently when she tried to get me to go out to dinner with her. I would've loved to have dinner with her, and I would love to do more than simply fantasize about her delicious curves. I stood in line, brushing my hand over my damp hair. It was rainy out, not a surprise for Seattle. I was just finishing up an overnight shift. A buddy needed coverage, so I’d taken his shift and was headed straight into a day shift now. I worked more than I probably should, but it was what it was. All in all, given that I hadn't gotten to go into my dream career, I was fairly happy with my job. When I was a lad in London, I had two career paths in mind—either a police officer, or a football player. Since the car accident had taken the option of professional sports away from me, I was content to be a police officer.

  As I waited in line, I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. I glanced behind me to see Jana. The second my eyes landed on her, a jolt of need hit me. Bloody hell. Her mere presence was a straight shot of lust in my veins. Her hair had an added layer of pink streaks mingling in with the purple streaks and rich mahogany color. Her hair was damp, and her blue eyes were bright. She smiled widely when I saw her.

  “I'm so happy I found you!” she exclaimed.

  Her smile was irresistible. My body tightened and my cock twitched.

  “Hello, Jana,” I said with a nod. “How are you?”

  “I'm great now. I've been trying to find you,” she said, stepping closer to me and speaking in a conspiratorial tone.

  I leaned down, her scent drifting up to me. She smelled like strawberries, which suited her perfectly somehow.

  “You've been trying to find me?” I asked, my voice low.

  She nodded, her dangly silver earrings swinging with the motion of her head. “Yes. Now that we're done with the fender bender, you're just a cop, so we can have dinner.”

  She said this as if fully expecting me to go along with it. I surprised myself by doing just that.

  “I suppose we can. When shall we have dinner?”

  Her smile widened, and my cock twitched again. Bloody hell. She just did it for me, and I couldn't figure out why for the life of me. She was wild, brash, funny and endearing. Aside from the fact that my body obviously had an opinion on the matter, she was fun. I couldn't say I’d spent much time with her, but every minute of it had been amusing.

  Jana angled her head to the side, twirling a pink lock of hair around her finger and tapping her other index finger on her chin. “Well, it's Thursday. How about tomorrow night because th
en it'll be Friday?”

  “Friday does follow Thursday. Every week,” I replied.

  She grinned even wider and giggled. “It does. Glad you noticed. So what do you say? Dinner tomorrow? I'll pick you up,” she offered.

  “No, I'll pick you up,” I countered.

  I couldn’t say I was thinking about a word I was saying.

  She sighed elaborately. “Okay, can you pick me up in your cop car?”

  I shook my head, fighting the urge to laugh aloud. “No, that's for business.”

  “We can pretend you're arresting me and call it business,” she added brightly.

  I couldn’t hold back my laugh any longer. “It's not business. I'll pick you up in my regular car. Tell me where.”

  She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Tell me your number. Your personal number,” she said with an arch of her brow and a sly smile. “I'll text you my number and my address. You’ll know exactly where to find me. Since you're driving, I'll pick the time and place.”

  I shrugged, still rather disbelieving I was going along with this entire exchange, but I couldn’t seem to kick my usual cynical brain in gear.

  “Fair enough. Tell me when and where.”

  “Number first, please.”

  I quickly recited it, and she tapped it into her screen. Then, she nudged me in the back of my leg with her knee. My confusion must've shown on my face.

  “It's your turn,” she explained.

  Bloody hell. Jana had me so enraptured, I had forgotten I was even in line, or where we were. I'd also forgotten the fact that I was damn tired and headed into a long shift. I spun around quickly and stepped to the counter, ordering my coffee and telling the cashier that I would also cover Jana’s. I wanted to sit down and enjoy a cup of coffee with her, but I knew that was dangerous. I couldn’t help but chuckle at myself. It was bad enough I’d agreed to have dinner with her.

  After we respectively got our coffees, I was standing beside her while she added a dash of cream to hers.

  “Reply to my text,” she said, rather out of the blue.

  I slipped my phone out and saw her message.

  It’s Jana!

  I almost spewed my coffee all over the place when I saw what she sent next. She’d forwarded the photo of the penis cake.

  When I looked up, she looked so pleased with herself all I could do was shake my head. “I noticed that before. Did you make it?”

  She grinned and shook her head. “Nope, but it makes me laugh. I thought you might like to laugh too.”

  While her words were light, the sentiment struck a chord in me. She genuinely seemed to want to give me a reason to smile. I shifted my shoulders, uncertain of what to make of that.

  “Laughing is good,” I said, rather inanely.

  Giving myself a shake, I tried to focus. “So where and when?”

  “I’ll text you later. It’ll be a surprise.”

  My radio conveniently crackled, putting out a call for a response to a nearby location.

  Jana leaned over, whispering in my ear. “Can I go with you?”

  I looked to her, fighting the urge to grin and instantly losing the battle. I managed to shake my head. “No, you can't. Text me the details, and I'll see you tomorrow.”

  At that, I grabbed my coffee. As I turned away, she leaned up and kissed me on the cheek. That little point of contact shot like a bolt of lightning through my body.

  ***

  Later that afternoon, I pulled up behind yet another fender bender, this one on a downtown side street in Seattle. I handled patrol duty and forensic investigations for domestic violence cases. As the sergeant for my unit, I enjoyed the flexibility and variety. As I stepped out of my car, my mind flashed back to the last fender bender I’d handled. I’d never have expected responding to a fender bender would lead to days of fantasies. Jana’s presence made that minor incident memorable. She was seared into my brain. This accident was more typical. This involved two male drivers arguing. There was nothing amusing about it, no brash, endearing woman with pink and purple hair to make my day.

  I’d glanced at her penis cake several times today, and sure enough, it was impossible to see without laughing. I was relieved I'd had enough sense not to give her my work contact. I went through the usuals to deal with the accident. I ended up writing up both men because the guy who got hit from behind actually threatened to punch the other guy. Fun afternoon.

  I strolled into the station later, ready to finish up my second shift. I was weary and looking forward to a good night’s sleep. I took care of things in the computer system quickly and then headed in to the locker room to leave my gear. Eli Phillips was lounging in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee and idly flipping through the paper. I slipped into the chair across from him and glanced over.

  “How's it going, mate?” I asked.

  Eli looked up and flashed a quick grin. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he ran a hand through his dark brown hair. “Eh, boring day. You?”

  I shrugged. My reply was more automatic than anything else. “Same. Nothing remarkable.”

  Unless I counted Jana. I wasn't going to get into Jana with Eli.

  “How’s Beth?” I asked, referring to Eli’s longtime girlfriend.

  Eli drummed his fingers on the table and took a gulp of his coffee before replying. “We broke up actually.”

  “Oh?”

  I was surprised to hear this. Eli was what I thought of as an All-American guy. He was clean-cut and handsome. He enjoyed watching sports and loved hamburgers and fries. He was slightly more evolved than the stereotype. He was quite bright and had tested into the forensic unit straight out of the police academy. He’d seemed more than content to carry-on dating Beth. In fact, I'd expected them to be engaged any day now and happily married soon. At my surprised look, he ran a hand through his hair again and leaned back in his chair.

  “Why does everybody look so surprised?” he asked.

  I studied him for a moment. “I suppose because you two have been living together for a few years, and you seemed as happy as anyone.”

  Eli shrugged. “Yeah I guess we seemed like that,” he finally said.

  “You doing okay?”

  He drained his coffee before standing and stepping to the counter for a refill. He quickly filled another cup for himself and glanced to me. “Want some?”

  At my nod, he filled another cup before returning to the table. He slid one coffee across to me. Break room coffee here was nothing to write home about, but it was probably better than most. Seattle was known as a hub for coffee, being home to Starbucks and many other local shops, a few of which provided us with an endless supply of good coffee. It depended on who made it as to how good it was.

  I took a swallow and was heartened to discover that whoever had passed by to make this pot of coffee knew what the hell they were doing. It was damn good.

  I glanced to Eli. “You make this?”

  He flashed a grin and winked. “Of course.”

  “So anyway, you doing okay, mate?” I repeated my question.

  He nodded, drumming his fingertips on the table again. “Yeah. I'm not all broken up about it, which is honestly why I broke up with her in the first place.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “What do you mean?”

  “I don't know. We were just drifting along. There was never a huge spark with her. I don't know if I want to settle down, or if I want a family. She was making all kinds of noises about it, and I didn’t want more. If I'm gonna put time and energy into something, it should be with someone where I'm damn upset if we break up.”

  “How did this come about?” I asked.

  “Actually, she got pissed off about something. Not even a big deal. Then, she said something about how I wouldn't even care if she broke up with me.” He paused for a sip of coffee before continuing. “I thought about it, and it's not that I don't care. I do, but she was right. I wouldn't have been devastated, and I'm not.”

  “How's Beth doi
ng?”

  He was quiet for a beat. “I think she's okay. Her pride took a hit, but honestly she's not all broken up over it either. I wish her the best, and I imagine we'll be able to be friends when the dust settles.”

  I took another swallow of my coffee and leaned back in my chair. We were quiet for a few moments, both of us respectively nursing our coffees.

  Eli spoke again, his voice startling me out of my reverie about Jana. Because, honestly, that's the only place my mind went when I had a spare moment this past week. She’d pretty much planted herself in my brain like a flag on the moon.

  “Were you all broken up when you and Kristen ended things?” he asked.

  I eyed him and laughed softly, a tinge of bitterness in it. “I can’t say our break up was mutual,” I offered.

  He rolled his eyes. “True, but still?”

  I pondered his question and what I knew of love at that time in my life. I had believed myself in love with Kristen. But we were young. Hell, we'd met in university. Now that I was staring down 32, my early 20’s felt like adolescence almost. I took a breath and let it out.

  “It's fair to say I was more upset than you are right now. Looking back, what pissed me off about it was the way it played out. I think she knew much sooner that she wanted things to end. She could've said something then instead of stringing me along,” I finally said.

  What I didn't say aloud was what I’d contemplated many times. Things began to feel different with her after my car accident. We had started dating when I was on a full ride scholarship at the University of Washington for soccer. She loved the games and the life that went with it. I had my car accident and everything shifted. Don't get me wrong, she was there for me. She helped afterwards with my recovery, carting me to and from appointments when I couldn't drive for a little while and the like. But she had cooled. Thinking back, she probably didn't know what to do because it was uncomfortable to think she might've fallen for me mostly because of the lifestyle I might have offered her in the future.

  What she didn't know was I had plenty of money. I had enough that I didn't have to do what I was choosing to do right now. I knew a life without something meaningful would drive me bloody mad, so I’d chosen to go into the police academy. My father ran a very successful banking firm in London. Kristen knew that, although I didn't know that she ever knew quite how much money my family had. My parents lived a fairly simple life. Oh, they were comfortable, but they weren't ostentatious. I’d been raised in the typical British fashion where you didn't talk about money and you didn't flaunt it. I certainly didn’t choose to enlighten her on my status after my accident. My trust fund wouldn't be available to me until after I turned thirty-five. I had figured—wisely, in hindsight—money wasn't something I wanted anyone to calculate into a relationship with me.