PROLOGUE
Julie
How they met…
Morning from hell. I was not a morning person. I never was and I never would be. Getting up in the morning is pretty much the worst part of my day. Trying to drag myself out of a way comfortable bed where I’m surrounded by fluffy pillows and soft bedding is pretty much the epitome of torture.
Add an alarm that never shuts up, cold tile in the bathroom that feels like tiny needles being jammed into my skin, and you have the makings for a very bitchy Julie.
Thank goodness I lived alone. There was no way in hell any man could go up against the morning sunshine I projected.
To make matters worse, I was running late. I hated being late. If I was late to work, it would throw off every appointment I had that day, and I would spend every single hour trying to play catch-up.
I rushed around trying to get ready, pulling on a cotton dress because it was a hell of a lot harder to try and match clothes together when I was stumbling around like a living zombie. (Wait. Zombies didn’t live. They were dead.) Then I cinched a red patent leather belt around my waist on my way down the stairs. I would have to do my eye makeup at work and I would also have to touch up my hair.
Glancing at the clock, I sighed and gave a longing glance at my kitchen, where the coffee was kept.
I didn’t have time for caffeine. I felt sorry for everyone who had to deal with me.
I grabbed my purse and rushed out the door and climbed into my little silver car. The air was already thick and I knew soon the summer heat was going to bore down on this town like a hungry woman at Waffle House.
I turned out of my neighborhood and tore down the street, letting out an unladylike curse word when I got caught by a red light.
When it turned green, I sped around the corner and glanced at the clock. Five minutes.
Flashing blue lights had me glancing in the rearview mirror. More unladylike curses exploded from my mouth as I pulled to the side of the road and prayed the cop would speed by.
Of course he didn’t.
He pulled to a stop behind me.
I so did not have time for this.
Why is it that police officers always picked on the innocent people who rarely ever speed, yet they never pull over the people who are complete assholes on the road all the time?
Maybe I would ask him.
He knocked on the window and I sighed. I wasn’t even going try to talk my way out of this one. It would be safer if I kept my mouth shut. It certainly would be cheaper.
I pressed the button and my window rolled down.
“License and registration, please,” said a voice from above.
I let out another huffing sigh and leaned over, digging around in my bag and glove compartment for the items, and thrust them out the window while staring straight ahead. I could practically feel all the other drivers laughing at me as they drove past.
It really didn’t improve my caffeine-deprived mood.
A few minutes later, the police officer leaned down in the window. “Did you know you were violating the speed laws, ma’am?”
Forget being quiet. I couldn’t do it. I opened my lips to give him a less-than-polite answer and turned my head.
Every single word fled my brain. I mean my vocabulary literally ran away. I couldn’t even blame them. There was no word that could compete with such a face.
His eyes were such a deep blue that they held me captive in a single glance. He had a masculine and angular face, with a straight nose, full lips, and a cleft in the center of his chin. He was clean shaven and smelled so good that I actually leaned closer.
Who in the hell actually leaned closer to an officer who wanted to give her a speeding ticket?
He was lean but not too thin, tall, and did his uniform justice. I was a little embarrassed to admit the gun strapped to his hip turned me on.
And then I saw the handcuffs.
I didn’t know I was a dirty ho until that moment. I imagined all kinds of inappropriate things involving those handcuffs.
He took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. “Ma’am?”
I glanced at him, once again struck by his eyes. I felt the need to lean even closer, but I stopped myself.
“What?” I said, the word coming out a little harsher than I intended.
I swear he stifled a smile. “You were speeding…” he said, trailing away.
I couldn’t stop staring at the little dent in his chin. My tongue would fit in it perfectly. I cleared my throat. “I’m late for work.”
The statement brought me back to reality. “Shit!” I yelled, hitting the steering wheel. “I’m late for work.”
I winced and turned back to him. “Are you going to arrest me now?”
He laughed. He actually threw his head back and laughed.
God, he was sexy.
“Where do you work?”
“Right up the street at Razor’s Edge.”
“You make a habit out of speeding through an intersection?”
I made a frustrated sound. “Only on days I don’t get my coffee, have to get out of bed at ungodly hours and…” Oh, crap, there I went again. I looked at him meekly. “No?”
“No coffee, huh?”
“No,” I grumped.
He sighed and straightened. He pulled a pad out of his pocket and then proceeded to write on it. I wondered how much this was going to cost me.
A minute later, he handed back my ID and registration. I put them away and turned back to collect my sentence.
He was putting the notepad back in his pocket.
“Isn’t that for me?”
He leaned back down in the window, bracing his forearms on the side of the car. “Nope. It’s for me.”
I felt my forehead crease. “I know I’m not properly caffeinated, but don’t people who speed usually get tickets?”
“Usually,” he agreed.
I lifted my eyebrows. I was back to being mute. He was incredibly close.
“I’m going to let you off with a warning this time.”
I made a sound that might have come across as an agreement.
He grinned. “On one condition.”
I scowled. “I read an article about this once. Officers of the law letting people go in exchange for… favors.”
He chuckled. “Is that so?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not that kind of a girl, Officer Shady.”
He lifted an eyebrow and I felt my cheeks heat. That’s good, Julie. Insult a cop.
“Are you the kind of girl who would go on a date with a shady police officer?”
My hands broke out in a clammy sweat. Did he just ask me out? “That depends,” I said saucily.