Frisk Me(15)

Luc withheld the snort. If Lopez thought Ava wouldn’t be offering plenty of unsolicited advice, he had an unpleasant surprise. He doubted mind your own business was in her DNA, not to mention it was a blatant contradiction of her job description.

“Hot or not, same rules apply,” Luc said, just to set the record straight. “She can come on the tame ride-alongs. That’s it.”

“Shit, and here I was planning to bring her to a shoot-out,” Lopez mused.

Luc flung the paperclip back at his partner, nailing him in the forehead. “Hey. So, I need you to be my wingman.”

Lopez rubbed the red spot to the right of his temple with a knowing grin. “Ah, so you do want a piece of Miss Media.”

Yes.

No!

Damn it.

“Let me rephrase,” Luc said, sitting back in his chair. “I need you to be my reverse wingman. Do whatever you need to keep that plastic, nosy diva away from me.”

There was a light tap on his shoulder before a female voice spoke up. “Gonna be hard when this nosy diva is hell-bent on getting all up in your business.”

Whoops.

“Nice job, Wingman,” Luc said with a glare at Lopez, whose grin indicated that he’d definitely seen Ava approaching and had opted not to mention it.

Luc pivoted around in his chair so he faced Ava. Only he was sitting, and she was standing, which put him exactly at eye level with Ava’s slim hips.

Generally speaking, Luc liked a little more curve to his women, but apparently his preferences were shifting, because he couldn’t help his sex-starved brain from thinking that Ava Sims’s hips were the perfect size for his hands to wrap around, his fingers holding her still as he prepared to plunge into her…

The fantasy dissolved into a million pieces when she opened her sassy mouth again.

“You know…” her voice was considering, her finger tapping idly against her lips. “I’d always heard that the whole man-in-uniform thing was supposed to be a turn-on. Guess it’s an acquired taste.”

Luc’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “See, here I am having a similar revelation. Always thought you TV people were supposed to be likable. Guess that’s subjective too.”

Lopez snickered behind them. “Doesn’t look like you need that reverse-wingman, Moretti. This one’s not exactly throwing herself at you, now is she?”

Just like that, Ava’s bourbon-colored eyes left Luc’s and landed on his partner. She apparently liked what she saw, because the tension around her mouth eased and she actually smiled. Not one of those forced shark smiles either. A real one.

Apparently she wasn’t so immune to the man-in-uniform thing after all.

She was just immune to Luc. Exactly as he wanted it.

Riiiiight.

Luc watched as Ava moved around Luc’s desk to Lopez’s. “Ava Sims. You’re a colleague of Luc’s?”

“Give the woman a medal,” Luc muttered. “What was it that gave it away, the uniform or the badge?”

Ava didn’t bother to turn around, but her right arm curled around behind her small waist to present him with a lone middle finger.

Nice.

Luc tried not to pay attention as Lopez and Ava chatted it up like old friends.

Just like he tried to ignore the fact that her new position meant he was free from looking at her hips, but now had her perfect ass in view.

Once again, this woman’s body sent his mind directly to the gutter, and even as he wanted her to stop yapping, he also wanted to bend her over this very desk, inch those nice-girl slacks down her thighs to reveal naughty-girl panties.

Jesus. Luc rubbed a hand over his face. Get it together, Moretti.

It didn’t help that her perfume exuded spicy and sweet at the same time.

The spice he could see. But the sweet…ha. Talk about a f*cking red herring.

“Yo, Lopez, Moretti!”

Thank God. An interruption. He hoped it was something bloody and gritty as hell to free him from Ava Sims–inspired fantasies.

Both he and Lopez looked up to see Sergeant Anders standing up to get their attention. “Ten-fifty over at Chelsea Pier. You want?”

“On it,” Luc said, standing up so quickly his chair nearly tipped backward.

Lopez grumbled but stood as well.

“What’s a ten-fifty?” Ava asked.

Lopez met Luc’s eyes. “We taking her?”

“Yes,” Ava said, just as Luc said hell no.

She’d already whipped out one of those annoying little reporter notebooks with the spiral on top—really, they actually used those?—and looked up at him defiantly.

And a little bit smugly too, because she knew what he knew:

He was supposed to take her with him. The only reason she was here sending him into a daytime wet dream was because she wanted to shadow his every move and then blast his every secret to the entire country.

Luc longed to put an end to it here and now. To tell Ava Sims he wasn’t going to sell out as some sort of hero because he did the same job that thousands of first-responders did every day.

He wanted to tell her to go harass one of those officers who hadn’t been unlucky enough to get caught on camera.

Anders ambled over glancing at his notes. “Mid-thirties, white male. Witness reports range from hefty to huge. Last seen at Pier thirty-one, although seems to be roaming.”