Officer in Pursuit

by Ranae Rose

  Had he worn such a mask the first time she’d met him?

  No, she vividly remembered a spark of lust in those same eyes, obvious excitement… It was no wonder he wasn’t feeling those things now.

  “Should we reschedule now?” Zoe called from behind the counter, already poised at the computer there, ready to enter a fresh appointment into the system.

  “Okay,” Abby said, her empty stomach sinking.

  Zoe probably thought Abby had eaten some bad take-out, or contracted a twenty-four hour virus. She had no way of knowing that Abby couldn’t stomach the thought of tattooing Sam, now or ever, because how could she possibly devote all her concentration to tattooing him when his baby was growing inside her?

  “I know you have a crazy work schedule…” She forced herself to meet his eyes.

  “Well, Sam,” Zoe said, “if you just let me know when you’re available, I can compare those times to Abby’s schedule, and I’m sure we can find something that works.” She smiled from behind the counter. “Abby, why don’t you head home and get some rest? I can handle this.”

  Abby nodded, but her feet didn’t want to move. The weight of the tiny life anchored in her belly was imperceptible at only two months, but it held her there anyway, locking her knee joints and stiffening her muscles. Could she really just walk away from Sam without another word? On the other hand … what could she possibly say, here and now?

  Definitely not, “Hey Sam, nice to see you again. I peed on a stick less than an hour ago, and guess what? I’m pregnant and you’re the father! I bet you’re glad you chose Hot Ink for your next tattoo, huh?”

  Ugh. She felt half-ready to vomit again at just the thought of such a declaration. Somehow, she had to think of a tactful way to spring the news on him, and not in front of her co-workers.

  “You don’t have to hang around for my sake.” Sam’s deep voice shattered her half-frantic thoughts. “I can see that you’re sick and need rest.”

  Should she be touched by his concern, or depressed by the fact that she obviously looked as bad as she felt? Unsure, she took one wobbly step forward. “I…”

  Her stupid shoe slid against the tile floor and she pitched forward gracelessly, catching herself, but not before Sam closed one large hand around the top of her arm. Cheeks flaming, she straightened her spine, doing her best to stand tall as he supported her unnecessarily with an iron grip.

  “You don’t have the flu, do you?” He raised one dark red brow. “That can be serious, especially if you can’t keep any fluids down. Co-worker of mine had to be hospitalized with it just last week.”

  She shook her head, her messy ponytail swinging as she hoped to God that Sam wasn’t recalling the splashing sounds of her stomach’s contents being emptied into the toilet. “It’s not the flu. Besides, I’ve been vaccinated, so…” Suddenly, she was short of breath in that about-to-puke way. “I’ve gotta get home.”

  “Need a ride?”

  She shook her head and managed to wriggle her arm out of his grip.

  “I already offered,” Zoe said, stepping out from behind the counter.

  Every set of eyes in the shop was trained on Abby, and she’d had enough. “I’m driving home. Alone.” No way was she going to risk throwing up in front of everyone again. If she had to pull over on the side of the street to do so instead, or sprint up the stairs to her apartment, so be it.

  “I’ll walk you to your car, at least,” Sam said.

  “I can do that.” As young and slender as she was, Zoe looked almost mother bear-like as she advanced on Sam, stepping between him and Abby.

  Abby bit back a sigh and a curse. Clearly, Zoe thought Sam was a stranger … which he very nearly was. “Zoe, it’s all right. Sam and I know each other.”

  “Oh.” Zoe donned a distinctly less wary expression and took half a step backward. “Well, okay then. If you’re sure you’re okay with it, Abby.”

  “Don’t worry,” Sam said, fishing in his pocket. “She’s safe with me.” He held up something that caught the light, reflecting a metallic glint.

  Zoe’s dark brows raced toward her carefully-parted hairline.

  Abby looked up, up, up at where Sam held a badge aloft, the embossed metal framed by his thick fingertips. She vividly recalled the feeling of those same fingertips gliding across her body, stroking, teasing and giving – but those memories were trumped by shock as she realized that the unknowing father of her baby was an officer with the Pittsburgh Police.

  She hadn’t known, hadn’t even asked what he did for a living. That was how meaningless their night together had been – or was supposed to have been. In the interest of not looking like a liar – or worse, a total idiot – she tried to appear unsurprised as Sam tucked the badge back into his pocket.

  A fall breeze greeted her and Sam as they walked out the door together. The wind rushed through Abby’s tied-back hair and imparted an unexpected reviving effect. As she approached her car, it actually seemed possible that she might make it home without having to deal with a heaving stomach.

  “Sorry about the cancellation.” She paused by the driver’s side door, her heart in her throat. Given the circumstances and the things she needed to tell him, maybe it was a dumb thing to say, a waste of conversation. But those words were the only ones she’d been able to summon to the tip of her tongue.

  “I figured there was a chance you might have reservations, even if you weren’t sick.”

  She looked up, daring to meet the ice-blue eyes she’d dreamed about more than a few times since she’d last seen them in person. “You knew it was me? I mean, you chose me to do your tattoo, knowing who I was?”

  He nodded. “When I was searching for an artist, I found Hot Ink’s site and saw your portfolio. I decided right then and there who I’d be going to for my next tattoo – it was easy to recognize you from your picture.” He smiled a smile so faint Abby almost wondered if she was imagining it. “Can’t miss those tattoos, or that hair.”

  Dumbstruck, she stared at him, studying his muscular frame again, unable to keep from imagining him in uniform, his hard body wrapped in blue. God…

  “I figured it was just a fluke. I didn’t realize you came to see me on purpose.” Yeah, her brightly colored half sleeves and natural platinum locks made her easy enough to recognize, but she and Sam hadn’t planned to see each other again after that night.

  Chewing the inside of her lower lip, she mulled the revelation over. She took a lot of pride in her work, and knew she was good, but still … Hot Ink boasted several of the city’s most talented tattoo artists. He could have avoided her by choosing Jed, Eric or any of the others.

  “I did.” He said it with finality, looking right into her eyes.

  Why? The question danced on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t force it out, mostly because she couldn’t think of a good reason why he’d want to see her again. Their night together had been intended as a no-strings sort of deal – they’d both been clear about that.

  “Maybe when you’re feeling better, I can take you to dinner.”

  His words were so unexpected they almost sounded like a foreign language. “What?” Maybe she could’ve blamed her slack-jawed look of surprise on pregnancy hormones, if he’d known she was pregnant. But then, if he’d known, he surely wouldn’t have just asked her out on a date.

  “I’d like to take you to dinner. Are you interested?”

  Hell yes, a voice in the back of her head screamed.

  Another voice reminded her that he didn’t know what he was asking, that everything had changed since they’d last seen each other.

  She nodded before she could lose courage. A pang of something like guilt shot through her, leaving her feeling almost deceitful. Still, she couldn’t deny that his unexpected request presented a much-needed opportunity for her to see him again, to level with him. Now all she had to do was work out how she’d tell him the truth when they met for what he probably thought would be another night of tumbling carefree through
the sheets.

  * * * * *

  Stripped of his duty belt, gun, bulletproof vest, boots and uniform, Sam felt strangely light. Maybe the feeling had nothing to do with what he’d just taken off and everything to do with the expectation that rushed through his veins at the thought of talking to Abby again. Sinking onto the edge of his bed, he disturbed the cool, unwrinkled sheets, breathing a sigh.

  It’d been a long day. During the duller moments – whenever he’d been able to spare the presence of mind – he’d thought of her. He thought of nothing else now; alone in his empty house, there were no distractions.

  She’d been on his mind for the past two months and seeing her again had brought back a flood of memories, intensifying the hopes he’d been harboring since July. Her smile, her voice, her body – he remembered it all much more vividly than he’d expected to after just one night.

  Especially her touch.

  Those particular memories made his mind race, combining memory with fantasy and turning his cock into a steel rod. Lowering a hand into his lap, he pulled down the waistband of his boxer briefs and wrapped his fingers around his shaft. With his fist closed tightly around his dick, he sighed again.

  It was a ragged sound, and simply exhaling broke down the last barriers of his reserve. Hand clenched, he pumped it up and down his shaft, seeing Abby naked in his mind’s eye.

  Naked but not bare – her skin was a tapestry of ink, and he hadn’t forgotten the sinuous designs that emphasized and decorated her tight curves. The patterns had been burnt into his mind over the course of a few fleeting hours – he couldn’t forget the way she’d looked, the way his dick had practically jumped to attention at the sight of her stripped down to just her tattoos.

  His fantasy was jumbled and half-frantic. There was so much to remember; it was hard to choose what to focus on. His tongue tangled with hers, or a mouthful of one of her breasts… It’d all been so good.

  His balls ached, warning him that he wouldn’t have enough time to revisit all the memories that had been haunting him since July. He slowed a little, stroking himself in a hard, measured rhythm. He should wait until he was in the shower. Hell, he needed a shower now after sweating all day in his uniform.

  Still, he didn’t want to unclench his fist any more than he wanted to let go of the image of Abby his mind had conjured up – she was almost real inside his head, a mental hologram with loose blonde locks and ink in all the right places.

  Almost real was almost enough, but not quite. He’d had her once, but he wanted her again. For real – for good. It almost hurt to think about, he wanted it so bad. What he was doing wouldn’t quell that desire – he knew that – but he couldn’t help it, couldn’t resist.

  A flash, tiny and bright, caught his eye and sent a crack racing through his thoughts, dividing his one-track mind.

  Tearing his hand away from his groin, he pulled the waistband of his underwear back up onto his hips with a groan of self-resentment. Bending forward at the waist, he squinted at the place the flash had come from.

  There, on the carpet, beneath the bedside table, something was glittering.

  He didn’t own things that glittered.

  He reached for the foreign object, his fingers slipping against one of the table legs before closing around something hard.

  It was an earring – a small golden stud. Was it hers?

  His mind began to race again at the thought of finding something of Abby’s in his bedroom, months after she’d been inside it. Being pressed against the table leg had obviously kept the earring from being vacuumed up, but how had he never noticed it before?

  Thinking back, he tried to picture the golden stud shining from her ear. He’d kissed his way up her neck and to her earlobe, teased her there with tongue and teeth. And yeah, she’d been wearing earrings.

  Purple earrings. He remembered now – they’d matched her tattoos. Small but brilliant, the gemstones had looked good on her.

  That only left one other person the gold earring could’ve belonged to. All traces of his arousal suddenly gone, he rose and walked to the bathroom, where he dropped the piece of jewelry into the trash. The damn thing really had been lying there forever. Too bad it hadn’t been swept up or otherwise lost – the discovery had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  He didn’t get into the shower – not yet. Instead, he returned to his bedroom and picked up his phone. Would Abby be ready to set a date and time for the dinner she’d agreed to have with him, or had he fucked up by showing up at Hot Ink without revealing who he was beforehand?

  He had to know. As a familiar ache flared again in his groin, he dialed the number she’d given him in the Hot Ink parking lot, the remembered taste of her making his mouth water, a sweet phantom flavor.

  * * * * *

  Dedicated Ink is available now as an ebook and in paperback.