Arrested By LoveBy: Kathryn R. Blake
When he was done, he stepped back. "You may turn around now," he advised, anger still simmering just beneath the surface of his words.
Tiffany knew he hated it when she drove over the speed limit. He considered it reckless driving, which he refused to tolerate. She watched as he pressed his glasses back up his nose and took out his pad again.
"I'm giving you a ticket and recommending you attend mandatory driver training, this time, Miss Morgan." Though she couldn't see his eyes, Tiffany suspected they were simmering with spirals of fury about now. "What you knowingly just did is stupid, reckless and totally unacceptable," he informed her, his tone clipped and cool.
She gazed up at him through lowered lashes. That was her cue. "Um, officer?"
She saw one eyebrow arch above his glasses as he answered, "Yes?"
She wet her lips and provocatively gave her hips a little swing. "Perhaps we could work something out, instead?"
Glasses immediately came down again. "Pardon me?"
She pointedly gazed at his crotch. The evidence that he found her attractive was blatantly obvious. "Perhaps, I could find a way to ease your discomfort, and you could forgive this small lapse of judgment on my part?" She deliberately ran her tongue over her lips just in case he hadn't gotten the message yet. Sometimes men could be a little thick.
If his eyes could physically glare daggers, she'd be one dead cookie by now. "Are you attempting to bribe me with oral sex, Miss Morgan?" he inquired silkily.
She gave him the most suggestive smile she had, then answered, "Among other things...."
"That's it!" he growled, yanking out his handcuffs and turning her so her face was smooshed against the very cold roof of her car. Before she could even say 'don't' he had her hands cuffed behind her back and was marching her over to his police car.
"Ow, Kyle. You're hurting me," she complained, struggling to match his long stride in her tight skirt and shiny black stilettos that she'd hoped made her legs look ten miles long. His grip on her arm lightened slightly, but other than that he was cutting her no slack. She made absolutely no attempt to resist him, since she already knew it would be useless. Besides, this was what she'd been hoping for, right?
"Get in," he commanded, pressing down on her head to protect it as he settled her none-too-gently, she might add, into the back of his cruiser. Then leaning in slightly with his head, he said, "You can just stew there for a few minutes and think about what you did while I decide what to do with you." Then he slammed the door.
That ominous little warning had Tiffany's backside twitching again.
Sitting obediently where he'd put her, Tiffany fumed--silently. This part had not been in her plan at all. She'd imagined him so overcome by his passion for her that he would sweep her up in his arms, place her on his lap, and then passionately kiss her. He was not supposed to slap handcuffs on her wrists, toss her into his car, then slam the door and lock her in.
Yeah, he might be a really handsome guy and all, with muscles a girl could drool over, but he was also a chauvinist pig sometimes. She was sorely tempted to stick out her tongue at him, especially since his handcuffs had effectively curtailed her from giving him the one fingered salute, which she'd also like to throw his way right now. It would definitely make her feel better.
Except he stood in the front of the car with his back to her now, so her infantile gesture would be totally lost on him. Scowling at his back, she scrunched up her nose and stuck out her tongue at him anyway, then groaned when he held up his index finger in response. One. Oh, God, that meant he was keeping count and she was in for it now. She slunk back against the seat and waited.
* * *
Kyle was so angry with Tiffany for her deliberate recklessness that he feared he'd lose his temper with her. So, rather than tempt himself further by giving her a well-deserved scolding, he slammed his cruiser's door and strode to stand before the hood of his car, where he crossed his arms over his chest and considered what he should do next.
She had absolutely no regard for her own safety. He knew that since the summer she'd turned ten years old and went swimming in the rain-swollen Pentucket river after her parents had wisely forbidden her to go anywhere near it. Though only seventeen and little more than a kid himself at that age, he'd managed to save her. Then, once he'd made sure she hadn't been hurt by the river's rough handling, he'd been angry enough to give her five hard swats on her pink swim suit covered backside that day. Afterwards, she was wailing as if he'd beaten her black and blue, so he'd just held her a bit and gently rocked her in his arms as he quietly scolded her for risking her life so foolishly until she'd finally calmed.
Then putting her aside, he ordered her back home to change out of her wet suit. He thought she'd run back to her Daddy and complain about what he'd done, but she hadn't. Instead, the very next day she'd actually started following him around like a pesky younger sister, remaining his permanent shadow until two years later, when he'd left and joined the army to train as a medic.
He knew she'd become smitten with him, since during those two years she'd occasionally try to get his attention, often by doing stupid girly things. Still, all it took was a sharp word or look from him and she'd promptly settle down and behave again.