Fit To Be Frisked: Fit To Be Frisked / Mr. Cool Under Fire. Carol Finch

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      “I WONDER IF I MIGHT HAVE a word with you, sir. After you finish your conference, of course,” the lady cop said politely.

      Vance sincerely hoped Tate called this cop on the carpet. The prospect provoked him to smile in devilish delight.

      Tate arched a questioning brow. “Does this have anything to do with the incident Vance is discussing with me?”

      The lady cop nodded and that shiny braid of dark hair curled over her shoulder to brush the swell of her breast. Vance tried not to notice, he really did. But damn she was built like nobody’s business. Too bad that she had the disposition of a snapping turtle.

      “Yes, sir, it does,” she told her superior.

      “Then take a seat, Miranda, and let’s get this situation squared away.”

      Miranda. Didn’t that just figure, Vance mused. The knockout female had decided to enter a profession in which she could Miranda everyone. Well, he’d like to read her a few rights and tell her what she could do with herself and her hoity-toity, by-the-book attitude.

      “Vance was just telling me about your confrontation on the highway this morning. He objected to the hefty fine.”

      Didn’t that just figure, Miranda mused, keeping her expression carefully controlled. No doubt this practical joker had decided to take the incident a step farther by tattling to her boss. The rat.

      “I’m sure he objected,” she commented, “but I maintain that he got exactly what he deserved for turning that unsafe vehicle over to his cousin to drive to town after I sent Mr. Ryder back the way he’d come.”

      When Tate leveled a pointed stare on Vance, Miranda noted that he sank a little deeper in his rickety chair. Obviously the stool pigeon purposely omitted several important details.

      “You didn’t mention that, Vance,” Tate said stonily.

      “I was just getting to that part when we were interrupted,” Vance mumbled, shooting Miranda a fulminating glance.

      “Of course you were,” she said, then sniffed.

      Vance braced his hands on the armrest and jerked upright. “Hey, I was here first to give my report. You were out of line.”

      He glowered at her from beneath bunched brows. Refusing to be intimidated, she glared right back at him.

      “So I suppose you didn’t mention that you took devilish delight in trying to make me look like a fool in front of your cousin,” she countered. “Well, the joke’s on you, Mr. Ryder. The next time I pull you over you better show some respect!”

      “I will not be bullied by a gun-toting female who’s itching to blow my head off over a stupid vehicle violation!” he snapped.

      “I was not itching to blow your head off…then,” she retaliated, green eyes flashing. “Now, I’m thinking about it.”

      “I don’t have to take this abuse from you, lady,” Vance flared.

      “Of course you do. You invite abuse and it would be rude of you not to accept it,” she sniped at him.

      When Vance bounded from his chair and Miranda stamped forward to confront him—nose to nose and toe to toe—Tate pounded his fist on the desk, demanding attention.

      “Park it, both of you,” he boomed. “Let’s not allow a minor infraction to escalate into World War Three, shall we?”

      “She fined me for stupidity!” Vance roared as he plunked into his chair. “How professional is that?”

      Miranda swallowed uneasily when the chief’s gaze zeroed in on her. Okay, so that wasn’t very professional of her, she’d admit it. But this handsome hunk of cowboy had ticked her off royally. She couldn’t say exactly what there was about him that got her hackles up. It was just a knee-jerk reaction. She was intensely aware of him and this ridiculous attraction made her megadefensive.

      “You fined him for stupidity?” Tate repeated incredulously.

      “He deliberately provoked me. Plus, I should have arrested him for sexual harassment,” she blurted out. “He tried to flirt with me to get out of the warning and ticket.”

      “That’s a mistake I’ll never make again, believe you me, lady. I’ve met rattlers with better dispositions.” Vance crossed his arms over his broad chest and glared laser beams at her. “You can’t take a joke worth a flip, either.”

      She let him have it with both barrels blazing—figuratively speaking of course. “And you don’t have enough brains under that dirty cowboy hat to know when to be serious and not come on to a female officer.”

      Vance scowled at her. “I resent that dumb cowboy comment.”

      “Enough already!” Tate blared as he vaulted to his feet. His thick chest swelled like a bullfrog as he glowered first at Vance then at Miranda. He sucked in a steadying breath then appraised the two antagonists who were glaring each other down like gunfighters at twenty paces.

      It was a long moment before he said, “First off, Miranda, fining a man for stupidity, even if he deserves it, won’t hold up in traffic court and you know it.”

      Vance smiled so smugly at her that she gnashed her teeth, crossed her arms and glanced the other way.

      “Secondly,” Tate continued, “flirting with a law official is inappropriate and you know it, Vance.”

      So there, thought Miranda, wishing she could childishly stick out her tongue at that cocky cowboy. He would never have gotten to first base with СКАЧАТЬ