Capturing the Cop

“So are you perfect?”

Far from it, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. This man would be her one night, her one digression into forbidden territory. One taste—no more. Giddy with the moment, Olivia let her inner bad girl rule. “I’m perfect in some areas,” she said, congratulating herself on how teasing her voice sounded as she answered his question.

“So then tell me one thing,” he asked. “How come you’re still single? Shouldn’t a girl like you have been snatched up by now?”

Olivia’s stomach tightened. Though her previous answer had been heavy with innuendo, her words hadn’t been a lie. As for her string of failed relationships, she didn’t ever intend to tell him the full truth about those. But she hadn’t been raised to lie. “I’m still single because I don’t settle,” Olivia replied, this time making her voice a tad provocative.

She heard his chuckle. “I see.”

“Uh-huh,” Olivia said. Even though he couldn’t see her, she twirled a piece of her hair coquettishly so that her mood would flow through the phone. “And just so you know, I don’t proposition just anyone, either.” That was for certain. She’d never propositioned anyone before.

His tone turned serious. “Then I’m honored. So shall we set up our date? I’d like to continue this intriguing conversation in person. Phones just don’t work for me. You can’t see the person.”

Which in this case had been a good idea, Olivia thought. When it came to normal phone conversations with men, she was terrible. Heck, she was terrible with men, period. Her longest relationship had lasted fourteen months, her two engagements each less than that. Garrett Krause wasn’t her league. But she only needed one night….

“Let’s definitely get this date on the calendar. I’d like to see you again.”

“The sooner the better,” Garrett said, his sexy tone back.

Olivia’s forehead creased, but she reached for her day planner. This bad-girl stuff was new to her. Did all men respond this eagerly? She wasn’t sure if she liked it. She pushed her discomfort aside. “I’m ready with my planner now.”

“You have a planner?” His voice held surprise. Then he said, “Great. Have you ever been to Melanie’s?”

“Melanie’s?” She racked her brain but drew a blank. “I’m sorry. I’ve never even heard of it. I take it it’s good?”

“Despite being just a hole in the wall, Melanie’s has some of the best seafood on the South Side. It’s on Grand, south of 44, past Tower Grove Park. How about we meet there? Say, Thursday night at six? That’s only two nights from now.”

Olivia wrote the information in her planner. She circled July twenty-seventh. She couldn’t believe that July was almost over. Age thirty-one was getting ever closer. “I’m sure I can find it.”

“You can’t miss it. The name is on the awning.”

She decided she liked his voice. “Melanie’s at six,” she confirmed.

“It was good talking to you, Olivia. Until Thursday, bye.”

And with that, he hung up. Olivia hit the red end button on her cell phone and surveyed the call timer. Less than three minutes. But it didn’t matter that she’d never really held a phone conversation with a man for more than ten unless they’d been fighting. What mattered was that she had a date with the sexiest man she’d seen in a long time. “Sorry Sara,” Olivia said aloud, as if speaking to her pious stepmother. “But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. And I have to do this man.”

Anticipation shuddered through Olivia. He’d be the ultimate lover. Even though she had zero experience in that area, she just knew he would be. Call it female intuition. Olivia turned up the radio, and humming because Garrett had actually called, she headed to work.

GARRETT PRESSED the off button and set the cordless receiver on the table. He glared at the four men watching him. “Satisfied?”

Cliff grinned, and for a moment Garrett wished he could smack that knowing leer off his friend’s face. “More or less.”

“I am,” Mason said. “You handled that with sheer finesse, buddy boy.”

“I don’t know,” Ben replied, his skepticism obvious.

Garrett stood, glowering at Ben. “Come on, you just heard the whole call. I made silly small talk and asked her out, and she accepted. We have a date on Thursday. Until then I have two different murders to solve and a summer program at Matt’s child development center. So enough. It’s done. The date’s set.”

“I’m not saying you didn’t ask her,” Ben persisted, not at all intimidated by Garrett’s solid stance. His green eyes narrowed. “But how do we know that you’ll really follow through? That you won’t just wimp out, call her back and cancel. Worse, you might stand her up.”

“I would never stand her up. That’s Mason.”

Mason took a step back and raised his hands in protest. “Hey, don’t bring that blind date into this. That wasn’t funny. I had to run. Did you see her? Murder one ready to happen. I was concerned for my life. Didn’t want you guys to have to be rolling yellow tape around me.”

Ben flicked his eyes heavenward, then returned his focus to Garrett. “No one’s questioning your integrity, Garrett, or your principles. I want to make sure you go on this date. Cliff and Mason date all the time. I’m engaged. Pete’s married. But you…If nothing else, I want to see for myself that this woman exists, that she isn’t some friend of yours helping you get out of a fix.”

Garrett’s jaw dropped. “I can’t believe you’re insinuating I would do something like that.”

“No, but I would,” Cliff admitted with a grin as he warmed to Ben’s current thread. “And you know Mason would.”

“Maybe,” Mason said slowly. Then he laughed. “Okay, I would.”

“So you can understand our concern,” Ben added. “Since you didn’t place the ad, so we have no real proof of your serious intentions to fulfill the bet, a bet—I might add, that you lost to me.”

“I suggest we go along on the date,” Cliff suggested. “I agree with Ben. I’d like to see this woman for myself.” He paused and glanced over at Ben. “That is what you were thinking, wasn’t it?”

“Something along those lines,” Ben said.

“Count me out,” Pete said. “My wife will kill me. I spend too much time with you guys already. She’s starting to harp on me to retire.”

“Count me in,” Mason said with a shrug of his bony shoulders. “I got nothing to do Thursday night.”

“I thought you were hot and heavy with what’s-her-name. Did you break-up with the latest one?” Ben asked. “I thought you were getting serious.”

“Not anymore. Now we just get together for occasional sex,” Mason said. “So I’m free.”

“No, you’re not,” Garrett said. He spoke so forcefully that all the men froze. “This is my date. You are not going. None of you. It may have been a while, but I think I can handle a date all by myself. A date is not like a car accident. I don’t require witnesses.”

Cliff folded his arms across his chest, and at that moment Garrett knew everyone had fully united against him.

“Tagging along is an excellent idea. We’ll sit at a table in the corner, have some lobster and crab legs, sip some beer, talk about our current cases—and monitor your progress. We work while you work.”

Garrett turned, but his six-foot-three frame failed to intimidate anyone. He needed only one date, and he’d prefer it to be alone. He had principles, for goodness sake. “You all are not going.”

Cliff smiled, and Garrett knew before Cliff’s next words that he was stuck.

“Yes, we are,” Cliff said in a tone that closed the matter. “Now, let’s get back to work. As you said, we’ve got multiple murders to solve.”

MELANIE’S was a little storefront establishment that Olivia almost drove by, until at the last moment she saw its name emblazoned on the kelly-green awning.

“Rats!” Olivia flipped on her blinker and ignored the honking from the Cavalier behind her, which had seen better days. Sorry, she mouthed to the irritated driver. Luck was with her and she found a convenient parking space on a side street. Steadying her nerves, she parallel-parked her car. The back tire ended up too close to the curb and she was between the lines, but—good enough. As she killed the engine, her phone rang. Thinking it might be Garrett, she answered before she checked the number on the caller ID.

“Olivia,” the familiar voice said. The voice of her conscience.

Olivia greeted her stepmother. “Hello, Sara.”

“I’m glad I caught you. I heard you left work early the other day. Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” Olivia said. That was the one thing about living at home. Everyone knew your business, even if you had moved out back to the pool house.

“So are you on your way here? I thought you could come up to the house for dinner. Blake’s at a meeting and I’m by myself.”

Just when was her parents’ next stadium tour? For people who were always out saving the world, they’d been home an awful lot lately. Olivia peered in the rearview mirror and checked her lipstick. A touch-up wouldn’t hurt. The ravish me red had faded. “I’ll have to pass on the invitation. I’m meeting a friend.”

“A friend.” Sara sounded a tad too bright as she hid her disappointment that Olivia had plans. “Do I know her?”

Olivia groaned. “Actually, Sara, no.”

“So someone new?”

“I’m going on a dinner date tonight,” Olivia admitted, since the truth was easier than dreaming up some quickie lie.

Sara seemed stunned. “You have a date?”

Without air-conditioning, the car was heating up quickly, Olivia squirmed. “Yes. A date.”

“With who?”

“Someone new,” Olivia repeated, agitation growing as the car began to bake in the July heat. “We just met. You don’t know him.”

“Olivia, you’re terrible with men. And how can I not know him? I’ve met everyone in your crowd. You’ve been hanging out with them for ages.”

Which, when one thought about it, was exactly the problem. Olivia drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. One of these days she’d learn to keep her mouth shut. That was what bad girls did.

Bad girls kept secrets from their stepmothers, even if, in Olivia’s case, the stepmother had really been the only mother she’d ever known.

Sara considered it her duty to get Olivia married, and to a godly and righteous man. As Olivia’s age edged closer to thirty-one, Sara’s maternal instinct had grown. What made Sara’s constant meddling worse was that Olivia had her grandfather to contend with, as well. He was the ultimate matchmaker.

Grandpa Joe had successfully gotten Olivia’s brother, Shane, and her cousins Darci and Harry wed. Figuring that if Grandpa Joe could bring on marital bliss, then she could, too, Sara had turned into a regular dating service for Olivia. The last man she’d introduced Olivia to had aspired to be a missionary deep inside Africa. His plans for their life had driven Olivia crazy after three minutes. No way was she sacrificing running water and electricity to help the less fortunate. Maybe that made her shallow, but not even her parents did that.

A bead of sweat formed on her brow. Time to get going. “Sara, I’m really sorry I can’t stop by tonight. I’ll come up to the main house for breakfast tomorrow. Give my love to Dad. I’ve got to run.”

Satisfied she’d said enough, Olivia disconnected before Sara launched into the lecture Olivia could tell was coming. Olivia began to put the phone in her purse but on further thought, placed the phone securely in the glove compartment. Knowing Sara, Olivia was sure her stepmother would call back, and nothing was going to ruin this night.

Heck, Olivia’s younger half brother, Shane, had sown a bucketful of oats before settling down. If Olivia even mentioned sowing a seed, her stepmother had the whole worldwide constituency out praying for her wayward, virginal stepdaughter. She’d been a fixture in her stepmother’s ministry column for years.

Olivia touched up her lipstick and opened the car door. As she stepped out, the St. Louis humidity instantly enveloped her. She smoothed out a wrinkle in her V-necked spaghetti-strap sundress. She’d wrestled all morning with her wardrobe, which had to go from work to her date. How she’d thought about wearing something bad, something black, sexy and oh, so “take me now.”

In the end, even if she had owned something like that, she couldn’t have done it. Instead, she’d settled for lace underwear, and had worn the sundress for its cleavage-enhancing abilities. She’d left the matching short-sleeved sweater in her office. She gripped her small white purse and began walking toward the restaurant.

As for the date, Olivia couldn’t remember ever being so nervous. She’d had enough blind dates in college to last her a lifetime. And then, of course, Sara had paraded eligible men through the endless social engagements that being Blake and Sara Jacobsen entailed. Both types of experiences had taught Olivia that she was terrible on her feet and lousy with idle conversation. She’d learned not to care, to pretend her inadequacies didn’t bother her, although deep down they did.

But tonight she worried. None of the men she’d met before had been as sexy as Garrett Krause. None of the men had seemed so ideal.

“Perfect for my project,” Olivia told herself aloud, much to the amusement of a passerby. Olivia walked on, voicing her thoughts only in her head. He’ll be my VITO boy. VITO was an acronym Chrissy had coined in high school—the letters being the first two of the words “virginity to.”

He’ll be the one I give my virginity to, Olivia thought. I’m thirty. It’s way past time to become a real woman, no matter what my parents say about waiting for marriage and Mr. Right. Olivia wobbled a little in the two-inch heels she wore. Garrett was tall, and she didn’t wish for him to tower over her too much.

Oh, who was she trying to fool? She never wore heels higher than an inch, and trying to be a femme fatale was as foreign to her as going to China. But tonight she hoped Garrett would find her sexy, invigorating, funny and beautiful—and slightly bad. She’d chosen him to deflower her, and she desired all that went along with the kiss and the promise of Mr. Right Now taking her to the edge and beyond. Darn it, she was long overdue. She was tired of reading about it—she wanted action. She was at the restaurant. Her fingers shook as she reached for the door handle. The moment had arrived.

CLIFF WAS ABOUT TO SIGNAL his waitress for another beer, when a movement at the hostess desk caught his attention. He lowered his hand and blinked just to make sure that what he’d seen, he’d seen clearly. He had. What was high-society Olivia Jacobsen doing in a place with zero star ratings, and alone?

Cliff squinted as some sunlight snuck underneath the awning and blinded him for a moment. When he could see again, his mouth immediately dried to a cottony texture. Garrett was greeting Olivia. She had the nerve to blush as Garrett pulled out her chair.

She was five minutes late, but the fact that Cliff had lost the “how late will she be?” bet with the guys wasn’t what upset him.

His best friend was about to have a date with Olivia Jacobsen, former fiancée of Cliff’s cousin Austin. Cliff’s parents had money and connections, but Austin’s had even more. However, the engagement had lasted only four weeks before she’d handed back the flawless diamond solitaire. Less than three months later, Olivia had been sporting another engagement ring, this one more ostentatious than Austin’s offering. Of course, that engagement also fizzled. Sure, Austin was now happily married to someone else, but in Cliff’s opinion, Olivia had toyed with his cousin’s heart.

So what was Olivia doing with Garrett, a man who couldn’t afford even a tiny engagement ring since his ex-wife had cleaned him out? This was not good. Garrett had always declared that he’d never date a rich woman again, yet here he was with Olivia. Cliff tossed his napkin on the table. He needed to get Garrett out of here—now. Cliff began to rise to his feet, but sat back down quickly before his partners noticed his erratic behavior.

Cliff clenched his hand to ease the overwhelming tension now consuming him. Had he really been about to confront Olivia? And what would he have said when he got there? He would have acted like a complete idiot. He’d have to trust that Garrett planned on doing what he had said—going on one date and one only.

Cliff frowned. Garrett had called Olivia the counter girl at the Monitor office. Everyone knew Olivia Jacobsen was vice president of corporate communications for her family’s company, Jacobsen Enterprises. She certainly didn’t work behind a counter, but probably in a lush, upper-story office with a fantastic view of downtown. Which meant, could this be a thing staged by Garrett to get the guys off his back?

Cliff took a deep, long pull of the cold beer that the waitress had placed at his elbow. Not only was Cliff a detective with sharp instincts, but he knew Garrett. The way Garrett was now toying with Olivia’s fingers meant that he didn’t have a clue who she really was.

In fact, now Cliff could view almost all of the picture, much the way he did when working a police case or puzzle. Garrett had needed a date to fulfill a bet, and somehow he’d found Olivia, probably at the Monitor offices. Why she’d been there was a mystery to solve later. Cliff would bet money that Garrett hadn’t asked Olivia her last name. Even if he had, he wouldn’t connect some counter girl with one of St. Louis’s most powerful families. He had no idea that he was out with a woman wealthier than his ex-wife.

Cliff drained more of his beer, his eyes narrowing as he saw Garrett laugh at something Olivia said. From all appearances, the date was actually going well, and as a friend, Cliff acknowledged he should be elated. Wasn’t this exactly what the guys had asked for? That Garrett be back out there on the scene? The deed done, Mason and Ben had already lost interest in Garrett’s date and were discussing how they liked the new Busch Stadium, which had opened last April.

Suddenly Ben asked Cliff a question, and Cliff turned his attention away from Garrett and Olivia. He consoled himself with one thing. If she hurt his best friend, Olivia Jacobsen would be dealing with him—and that was a promise.

Chapter Four

Garrett Krause was Mr. Right Now, Olivia decided the moment she’d let him seat her at the table for two. When his fingers had skimmed her bare shoulder, a shiver had ricocheted through her and curled her toes. Whoa.

No man’s touch had ever made her react this way. She was alive. Free. And as much as she tried to concentrate on what he was saying, it was impossible when all she could do was watch his full lips move and wonder what they would taste like during a kiss. If Garrett could bottle his sexual magnetism, he could make a fortune.

She’d definitely chosen correctly. Making love to this man would be pure heat. Her two fiancés hadn’t even raised her temperature one degree by holding her hand. Garrett’s touch had her boiling.

She hoped that tonight that he’d touch her everywhere else.

She attempted to tamp down her desire as the waitress took Olivia’s order for iced tea. Olivia had noticed Garrett drinking the unsweetened beverage, and decided that, despite her desire to be really bad and have some alcoholic courage for the night ahead, being drunk was not the way to accomplish her goal. She had never handled liquor well, and with this man, one drink was liable to have her jumping on Garrett and yelling, “Do me now.”

Her desire to lose her virginity to this gorgeous man and thus cross over to the other side and into the womanhood club notwithstanding, climbing all over him was not how Olivia intended to seduce. She wanted the flesh-and-blood act to be wonderful, a thing of which memories were made. She wanted special; she required things on her terms. She’d let parents, religion and morals control her actions for a long time, but that didn’t mean she was planning on tossing all integrity aside tonight. Despite her desire to break free, be bad and not conform to the expectations with which she’d been raised, she did not want her first experience to be tawdry.

In the flesh, Garrett Krause was every woman’s fantasy, including hers. The red polo shirt he wore failed to conceal the toned body underneath. Golden-blond hair covered his tanned arms. Blue eyes to drown in held her gaze. His full lips had already sent his dimples creasing up toward high cheekbones.

And when his fingers touched her shoulders…Olivia struggled to pay attention to what he was saying and to keep her dangerous thoughts at bay.

“Have any trouble finding the place?” he asked.

“No,” Olivia said, grateful for the diversion of his question.

She automatically placed her napkin in her lap as the waitress provided Olivia’s iced tea and then refilled Garrett’s glass.

“I’ll bring you some more crackers, too,” she said, and picked up the basket that had more empty wrappers than full packages.

“I’m glad you got here okay,” Garrett said. He gestured toward the menu the waitress had left behind. “Shall we decide on some food?”

“That sounds like a plan.” Olivia picked up the menu, hiding herself behind it. She began to read the choices, although as Garrett’s legs tangled with hers and a heat burned between them, she didn’t comprehend one item on the menu.

“Sorry,” Garrett said as he moved his leg away.

“No problem,” Olivia replied. Yet, it was.

This had to be the most awkward moment of her life, besides maybe her first kiss. After a movie, fourteen-year-old Tommy Hinkins had planted one on her so fast that she’d swallowed her gum and started choking. Her father had performed the Heimlich maneuver, and then during the car ride home given her a biblical lecture on keeping her chastity. Not a very good way to end an evening.

If Olivia didn’t do something fast, this one was going to end just as poorly, without her having seduced anyone and reached her goal of becoming a real woman.

She put her menu down, only to find Garrett staring at her.

“What?” she managed to ask.

“Nothing,” Garrett said. He grinned sheepishly, his charm washing over her. “Sorry, I just like looking at your eyes. They’re unique.”

Now, that was a safe topic. “Everyone in my family has them. My grandfather, father and my brothers and sisters, except my stepsister and stepmother.”

“Interesting,” Garrett said. The waitress deposited a basket of dinner rolls instead of crackers. “The gene for blue eyes is recessive.”

Olivia gave a shrug. “I really don’t know.”

He shook his head, sending a wave of blond hair across his forehead. Olivia popped a piece of Melba toast into her mouth in order to remain poised. He smiled, and it seemed that something molten was running through her veins.

“Sorry,” Garrett said again, that grin never changing. “I have to admit I’m a detective at heart, which is why I’m a cop. I love problem solving, so math and science were always my favorite classes.”

“I’m not a math person,” Olivia replied, filing away that he’d told her his occupation.

“Most people aren’t. Let me guess. You were more of an English major.”

Olivia nervously touched her hand to the base of her throat as she tried to make a joke. “Does it show?”

Garrett laughed at that, and Olivia began to relax. “Nah. My English teachers never looked like you. If they had, I might have had second thoughts about my career.”

Olivia blushed. Okay, maybe she wasn’t so terrible at this seduction stuff after all.

Garrett reached for the iced tea in front of him. “So, for a living I solve problems, which in a nutshell tells you all about me. What about you? You work at the Monitor.”

“I’m in communications,” Olivia said. Explaining why she’d been at the newspaper office would take too long.

He studied her for a moment before shooting her a wicked grin. “So you do work with words.”

“Well, English was my favorite subject. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. My Barbie dolls were career women in media.” She gulped. One step forward, three steps back. To her ears, she’d sounded like a fool. “Great. Now you probably think I’m crazy.”