HOT COP
Detective Blake Knight has been undercover before. But an assignment to bust a steroid ring running out of Dallas’s elite male strip club means his new cover will be nothing but his own taut muscles and oiled skin. It’s one thing for the tough, by-the-books agent to take down bad guys with his gun. Facing a rowdy crowd in only a G-string is another story . . . especially in front of his new boss, gorgeous, mysterious Reese Landon.
Her father’s club and shady business practices bring back terrible memories for Reese. But when he’s shot and goes into a coma, she vows to protect him the way he never did for her. That means keeping the police at a distance—especially sexy, driven Detective Knight. If she has to give him a cover job, it would be a crime not to put that glorious ass on stage. But no matter how good he looks in a Velcro uniform, she can’t trust him, or give into the undeniable heat between them. They’re both chasing the truth. And it might expose more than either wants to show . . .
“I’ve never fainted once in my entire life.” Reese struggled to unravel the suffocating cocoon of pillows and blankets enveloping her, melting her into a puddle of sweat in the stifling heat.
After an E.R. trip she barely remembered, Blake took her to bed as promised, but not nearly the way she wanted (not that she was in any condition to indulge said desires), then scavenged for every soft thing in the house to slide beneath her aching head and wrap around her sore body.
And where on earth had he found a Snuggie?! So much for Blake’s suspicion that her father was some badass criminal… Drug kingpins didn’t own blankets masquerading as outerwear—or shop on QVC—where she’d bought the same one a couple months ago.
And when she’d fantasized about Blake, alone in her bedroom, she hadn’t imagined herself swathed in a purple plaid muumuu. Not exactly her sexiest look. No wonder he kept his distance, wearing a hole in her area rug as he paced back and forth. “Did the doctor say I have a concussion?”
The tension in Blake’s face eased, and one side of his mouth kicked up. Those strangely attractive canines peeked between full lips. “Yes, and the radiology tech, the discharge nurse and a flower delivery aide who I think was just humoring you so you’d let her get on with her rounds. Oh. And that report.”
She followed his finger-point to the creased pink paper resting on the quilt. Had she been holding it? Yes. She remembered trying to read it earlier, but her eyes were acting funny along with her head. Whatever meds they’d given her dulled her pain and muddled her thoughts. “I asked you this before, didn’t I?”
Amused blue eyes met hers and C-shaped dimples dented his cheeks. “Only twelve times, but who’s counting?”
“You are, apparently.” His smile could stop traffic, she mused. She couldn’t tell if he was teasing her. “And why are you still here? I mean. Thanks for being here,” she amended hastily, not wanting to sound ungrateful, but she didn’t want him hovering. “For everything. But I’m good now.”
She replayed Blake’s body shoving her out of the way. It’d saved her from the Escalade’s path while putting his own life in danger. Once again, his fearlessness, his protective instincts, his disregard for his own safety, saved the day. She liked that about him, maybe too much, considering the tempting officer was all kinds of wrong for her. “Aren’t there police outside?”
“This is personal, not official.” Their gazes locked, and he looked at her the way a woman wanted a man to, intently, appreciatively, with a heady mix of heat and tenderness. “And I’m taking care of you, whether you want me to or not,” he insisted, in full-on caveman mode.
She stopped breathing for one suspended moment. “Oh.”
“The doctor said to watch you closely for the next twenty-four hours.” He laced his fingers overhead and stretched, the move lifting his T-shirt to reveal a tantalizing strip of washboard abs. “It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.”
She reached to throw a pillow at him, winced when pain stabbed between her eyes, then dropped back onto the bed.
“Stay still,” Blake commanded, banter gone, all firm, officer-in-charge authority. He pressed a bag of frozen peas against her cheek. “This never should have happened,” he muttered under his breath.
She nudged his hand away. “I told you I was leaving work early, but stayed late; it’s not your fault.”
He scrubbed a hand over his thick brush of hair. “I should have walked you to your car.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“You’ve got one now,” he vowed. His hands balled at his sides and his taut body crackled with pent-up energy. “Nothing bad is happening to you again. Ever. Whoever shot your father is after you, too.”
After an E.R. trip she barely remembered, Blake took her to bed as promised, but not nearly the way she wanted (not that she was in any condition to indulge said desires), then scavenged for every soft thing in the house to slide beneath her aching head and wrap around her sore body.
And where on earth had he found a Snuggie?! So much for Blake’s suspicion that her father was some badass criminal… Drug kingpins didn’t own blankets masquerading as outerwear—or shop on QVC—where she’d bought the same one a couple months ago.
And when she’d fantasized about Blake, alone in her bedroom, she hadn’t imagined herself swathed in a purple plaid muumuu. Not exactly her sexiest look. No wonder he kept his distance, wearing a hole in her area rug as he paced back and forth. “Did the doctor say I have a concussion?”
The tension in Blake’s face eased, and one side of his mouth kicked up. Those strangely attractive canines peeked between full lips. “Yes, and the radiology tech, the discharge nurse and a flower delivery aide who I think was just humoring you so you’d let her get on with her rounds. Oh. And that report.”
She followed his finger-point to the creased pink paper resting on the quilt. Had she been holding it? Yes. She remembered trying to read it earlier, but her eyes were acting funny along with her head. Whatever meds they’d given her dulled her pain and muddled her thoughts. “I asked you this before, didn’t I?”
Amused blue eyes met hers and C-shaped dimples dented his cheeks. “Only twelve times, but who’s counting?”
“You are, apparently.” His smile could stop traffic, she mused. She couldn’t tell if he was teasing her. “And why are you still here? I mean. Thanks for being here,” she amended hastily, not wanting to sound ungrateful, but she didn’t want him hovering. “For everything. But I’m good now.”
She replayed Blake’s body shoving her out of the way. It’d saved her from the Escalade’s path while putting his own life in danger. Once again, his fearlessness, his protective instincts, his disregard for his own safety, saved the day. She liked that about him, maybe too much, considering the tempting officer was all kinds of wrong for her. “Aren’t there police outside?”
“This is personal, not official.” Their gazes locked, and he looked at her the way a woman wanted a man to, intently, appreciatively, with a heady mix of heat and tenderness. “And I’m taking care of you, whether you want me to or not,” he insisted, in full-on caveman mode.
She stopped breathing for one suspended moment. “Oh.”
“The doctor said to watch you closely for the next twenty-four hours.” He laced his fingers overhead and stretched, the move lifting his T-shirt to reveal a tantalizing strip of washboard abs. “It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.”
She reached to throw a pillow at him, winced when pain stabbed between her eyes, then dropped back onto the bed.
“Stay still,” Blake commanded, banter gone, all firm, officer-in-charge authority. He pressed a bag of frozen peas against her cheek. “This never should have happened,” he muttered under his breath.
She nudged his hand away. “I told you I was leaving work early, but stayed late; it’s not your fault.”
He scrubbed a hand over his thick brush of hair. “I should have walked you to your car.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“You’ve got one now,” he vowed. His hands balled at his sides and his taut body crackled with pent-up energy. “Nothing bad is happening to you again. Ever. Whoever shot your father is after you, too.”
Up for grabs: Five romance novels and a $50 Amazon gift card
Books: Wicked Grind, by J. Kenner, Off Track, by C.L. Hadyn, Under Pressure by Lori Foster, Dangerous Games by Tess Diamond and His Last Defense (autographed) by Karen Rock.
(Open internationally)
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