Frisk Me(16)

“What’s a ten-fifty?” Ava asked again.

“Disorderly conduct,” Luc said, already moving toward the door.

“Intoxicated?” Lopez asked Anders, following Luc.

Anders shrugged. “Undetermined.”

Ava was hitching her bag over her shoulder, trotting along beside them. “I’m coming.”

Luc halted and turned, putting a hand against her chest to stop her forward movement.

A mistake.

His hand was high enough to keep his fingers out of reach from her more interesting parts, but he could still feel her heart hammering against his palm all the same.

It was…

Shit, she really couldn’t come with them. He couldn’t be near her and think straight.

Luc jerked his hand back. “You. Stay.”

“Which would defeat the purpose of me being here, wouldn’t it? I’m your shadow.” She pushed his wrist aside. “Learn how to deal with it.”

“I need to do my job, Sims,” he said as she moved past him to follow.

Her spine straighter. “And I need to do mine.”

“Luc, we need to move,” Lopez called from the door. “She can wait in the car if the guy’s out of hand.”

Luc opened his mouth to protest, when Anders broke in with one more detail. “There are also reports of ID.”

Luc and Lopez groaned at the same time, both heading toward the door.

Ava followed, and this time Luc let her. Maybe he could use her nosiness against her.

It was time to let Sims see just how unsexy this job could be.





CHAPTER SEVEN



So, apparently, there was a naked man running up and down Chelsea Pier.

Well, not a totally naked man. Ava had overheard Lopez questioning an elderly couple, and according to them, the perp still wore his too-small white tank top and beat-up leather sandals.

But the crucial, um, bits of him were apparently flopping out there for all to see.

And judging by the old lady’s hand motions, flopping was unfortunately literal.

Ava stood near the car where Luc had curtly told her to stay put. She didn’t see what the big deal was. Not like she hadn’t seen a naked man before.

Well okay, it had been a while.

Her eyes found Officer Moretti as he interviewed a couple of runners, her eyes taking in wide shoulders and tapered waist.

He was taller than average, but there was nothing lanky or gangly about him. His standard-issue uniform did little to disguise the clench and release of muscles when he moved, and her mouth went dry as she imagined her fingers unbuttoning his shirt, sliding it off sculpted shoulders to reveal what she was about 90 percent sure would be a flawless six-pack…

Ava shook her head to clear it.

Okay, so maybe it had been a long while since she’d seen a naked man.

But she hated it was Moretti who made her remember that her last date had been…

When exactly?

Three months? Six?

Why couldn’t it be Officer Lopez who made her a little crazy? Luc’s partner was drop-dead gorgeous, and a hell of a lot more charming than Moretti.

So why did it have to be Luc who reminded her that she’d been celibate for way longer than she’d like?

It’s not like Ava was one of those hyper-independent women who was determined to remain single at all costs.

Ava loved to date. Or at least she liked the idea of dating. That giddy anticipation of whether she’d feel it—that spark of, yes, maybe this could work!

Okay, so, admittedly, as far as expectations went, the bar was pretty low.

But Ava was no naive twenty-two-year-old college grad who thought the right guy was just around the corner. She’d kissed a lot of toads.

A lot.

She wasn’t at all sure her happily ever after was out there, so when it came to first dates, Ava was just fine settling for a maybe and decent conversation.

But even the maybes had been few and far between. For a city with several million people you’d think there’d be at least one guy she found attractive who didn’t bore her silly.

Ava sighed and readjusted her pony.

After this story, she’d put more effort into the dating scene. She loved her career—sometimes—but she didn’t want to be married to it.

Actually, she didn’t want to be married at all. Ever. To anyone.

As though sensing her gaze on his back—okay, his butt—Luc whipped his head around and his eyes clamped on hers.

Embarrassed to be caught staring, Ava jerked her gaze away. This was so not the time to be playing sexy-eyes with a grumpy cop.

Part of Ava’s job was knowing when people were at their limits, and Luc Moretti had been at his when they’d first arrived at the pier and he caught her taking notes while he interviewed a witness.

Whoopsie.

She’d been banished to the car.

But hey, bright side…at least now she knew what an ID was in cop-speak:

Indecent exposure.

It also explained why Luc Moretti had changed his mind about letting her tag along. He thought she’d be scared off.

Please. It would take a hell of a lot more than a flaccid penis on a disorderly drunk to scare her off the story.

She would, however, be omitting this particular cop-experience from her prime-time coverage.

And the story would be prime time. That had been the only reason Ava had agreed to do something so…scripted.