Page 4 of Armed ’N’ Ready

Chiseled jaws tightened. “Stay. On. The bed.”

“Or you’ll what?” She raised her chin in the hope it would stop her lower lip from trembling. Being so antagonistic to a cop might not be the smartest move, but this was all scary as hell, and it was the only way she knew to conceal her fear. What was supposed to be a relaxing couple of days at Joe’s house while the plumbing at her place was being overhauled was turning into a nightmare.

“Or,” he said, towering over her, “I’ll have to handcuff you, and if I do, I seriously doubt that towel will stay put.” His gaze dipped briefly to where the previously knotted towel now hung practically wide open.

Though she wore a bikini beneath the towel, it didn’t conceal much. She snatched at the parted towel and yanked it together, re-knotting it as best she could.

“Ma’am.” He took a deep breath then let it out. “A female officer is on her way up here to assist. In the meantime, I’d appreciate your cooperation. It would make this a lot easier. On both of us.”

“Fine,” she reluctantly agreed, knowing it was the right thing to do. “But you could have knocked before breaking in. I would have let you in.”

“We did knock. You didn’t answer.”

“Well, duh. I was in the shower washing the dog and didn’t hear you.”

“Clearly, ma’am.”

“Andi. Call me Andi. If you call me ma’am one more time, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” he asked, throwing her own words back at her.

Oh hell. He’s right. If he wanted to call her ma’am all day, there was nothing she could do to stop him. It was just so annoying.

He snorted. “That’s what I thought. Look,” he began in a tone that was only slightly less patronizing. “You can’t touch anything until the room’s been searched. Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it for you.” He went to the suitcase, pausing to look at her before unzipping it. “Got any weapons in here, anything sharp?”

“An eyebrow plucker? A curling iron?” She couldn’t help grinning when his brows lowered in obvious irritation. “Oh wait, be careful. I have a box of tampons in there somewhere. Those little things can do some damage if you handle them incorrectly. If I were you, I’d treat them like unexploded ordinance.” She smirked, but in reality, her snarky comebacks were a sad effort to mask her growing anxiety.

He gave her a fake smile that crinkled the skin at the corners of his eyes. If the smile hadn’t been so facetious, and if he wasn’t about to search her personal belongings, she would have said he was somewhat handsome. In a kick-ass, take-no-shit, I-eat-nails-for-breakfast kinda way.

“Cute.” He arched a brow as if to say: right back atcha, babe. Then he began digging through the suitcase. “After you’re dressed, I’ll take you downstairs, and we’ll explain more to you about what’s going on.”

“Aren’t you afraid I might attack you from behind and club you over the head when you’re not looking?”

“No.” He didn’t spare her so much as a glance.

“Why not?” Testing her theory, she pushed from the mattress, watching as he rifled through her suitcase, searching it for weapons, she supposed, and whatever evidence they’d come to Joe’s place for. “See, I’m getting closer.” She continued edging toward his broad back. “I could easily incapacitate you with my hair dryer.”

Again, he didn’t bother to look at her. “Turn around.”

She did and froze. Her only movement was the instantaneous widening of her eyes.

The black shepherd stood closer now, only a few feet away, with its demonic eyes burning into her. “Oh. Right.” This time it was her turn to sit obediently. And she did. Slowly. “If I attack you, your partner will tear me to shreds, won’t he?”

He pulled a pair of khaki shorts and a light-blue tank from the suitcase and tossed them behind him onto the bed. “Pretty much, so I’d strongly advise against it.”

“Ten-four, Sarge.” She wanted to smack her forehead. Joe’s house was being searched by an army of cops, she was being guarded by a cop-dog bigger than any wolf she’d seen in a zoo, and here she was cracking jokes. Not smart.

She gave him a mock salute behind his back. Unfortunately, he turned just in time to catch it and pursed his lips. Her gaze was drawn to his duty belt, and her eyes again went wide, this time for a completely different reason. Her face heated as if someone was blasting a blowtorch at her head.

Looped over the handle of his gun was one of her prettiest pair of undies—pale pink satin with lacy scalloped trim. She clamped a hand over her eyes.

Could this get any more embarrassing?

Don’t answer that.

“Uh, Sergeant?” Might as well meet the situation head-on. “Can you grab me the matching bra, too?”

Clearly not understanding to what she was referring, he frowned, and when she dipped her eyes in the direction of his gun, he figured it out. Again, that seriously chiseled jaw flexed as he reached for the lacy garment, hooking it with two fingers. With a flick of his hand, he tossed it on top of her shorts and shirt as if it was burning his flesh and he couldn’t wait to get rid of it.