Capturing the Cop. Michele Dunaway

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      Cliff shrugged, conceding slightly. “Well, maybe not that,” he said, retreating before going back for round two. “But some of those babes who dropped by the police station were hot. I would have taken the normal ones up on their offers. Wasn’t one a Rams cheerleader? Get real, Garrett. Just hop back in the saddle again. Being celibate this long just doesn’t suit a man. Makes him crack. God knows we see the results of that enough in our line of work.”

      Garrett glared. His self-chosen celibacy had so far suited him just fine. Being celibate meant he’d make no more mistakes such as thinking he was in love and the time was perfect for him to settle down. That was how he’d come to marry Brenda. The only good thing to emerge from that tempestuous relationship had been their son. And that adorable four-year-old deserved his daddy’s full attention.

      “Don’t knock celibacy. It’s the best alternative to marriage, that’s for sure,” Garrett said.

      “Who said anything about marriage? Saddles are for riding in, buddy boy.” Cliff grinned, but his smile vanished when he saw the sour expression on Garrett’s face. “Oh, loosen up. At least none of us is trying to drag you out to strip clubs anymore under the guise of doing a stakeout.”

      Thank God for small favors, Garrett thought. Exploring East Saint Louis’s “nightlife” was not anywhere on his to-do list, nor would it ever be. The Illinois city directly over the Mississippi River from the Gateway Arch was known for strip clubs and seedy bars—something he’d outgrown long ago. And since Garrett wasn’t a gambler, even Casino Queen river-boat, decent as that was, held little appeal. He shook his head, sending blond hair into his face. Loosen up indeed. As if he could.

      He shuddered, revulsion shivering down his spine as he remembered some of the women’s letters and photos he’d received in the months following the appearance of the Hometown Heroes charity calendar.

      Reading the letters and seeing the lengths women would go to to entice him, including those naked full-body shots, had not been pleasant. He’d felt like a pervert, so much so that he’d finally stopped opening the letters at all, or letting his cop buddies and Cliff raid his mail. Crime scenes were easier to deal with.

      He winced. Hindsight was twenty/twenty. When the department asked for his cooperation last summer, Garrett had followed orders, not caring about the “honor” attached to being selected.

      His mistake was that he hadn’t thought through the calendar’s aftereffects. Oh, he’d considered that he might get some recognition and second glances, but this was St. Louis and not Hollywood. St. Louisans were, for the most part, discreet—not rude autograph-seekers. Even professional sports stars were usually granted their privacy in public places like restaurants or movie theaters. The crazy attention paid to him and his fellow police, fire and rescue workers from across the metropolitan region had surprised Garrett, not to mention vexed him.

      Today, it appeared, there would be no end to his weary annoyance. Cliff was on a mission he’d started this past weekend when Garrett lost the weekly Friday night poker game with the guys.

      “Let me see that personal ad again,” Cliff said, getting back to the matter at hand. He snagged the paper from Garrett. “HWP. That’s good. You don’t want someone whose height and weight aren’t proportional. But, do you think it’s a good idea to tell them your measurements?”

      “Earlier you wanted me to tell them I was Mr. August so that they could go ogle me. Why don’t I just include my address in the ad? Even better, how about I include my cell phone number and the note ‘Call Garrett for a good time.’” Irritated, Garrett wrestled the piece of paper away from Cliff. “This is a dumb idea. I’m not doing it.”

      Cliff snatched the paper, ripping off a piece in the process. “Yes, you are. You backed yourself into a corner Friday night when Ben asked how long it had been since you’d had a real date. You even went double or nothing without chips—and lost. So unless you really want to eat crow—”

      “I thought I had a good hand,” Garrett interrupted. Two of a kind should have been enough to win.

      “Well, you didn’t, so even fate agrees you’re doing this. You’ll never live down the ribbing if you don’t. It’s a personal ad or a blind date.”

      The last blind date Garrett had gone on had been an absolute disaster. She’d been five years older and around the block way too many times, and had boldly asked him if he knew any kinky ways to use his handcuffs. No more blind dates, period.

      “Fine, I said I’d do this,” Garrett said with another growl to indicate that he still didn’t relish the idea. “One date with one woman. That was the bet, and that’s all I’m doing. Understood?”

      Cliff’s smile widened and he gave Garrett the crumpled piece of paper. “Okay. One date. That’s the deal. But place the ad today. You’ll pass by the Monitor office on your way home.”

      Garrett narrowed his eyes and glared. The Monitor office was actually out of his way, but Cliff, again intent on revising the ad’s wording, disregarded his friend’s displeasure.

      “Don’t forget to add ‘no smoking,’” Cliff said. “Just in case you want to kiss her.”

      “I won’t be kissing anyone,” Garrett snapped, but he did write down n/s on the paper.

      Cliff’s laughter again echoed in the room. “No kisses? You never know, Garrett. You never know.”

      “OLIVIA! OH, AM I GLAD to see you!” Chrissy Lambert said as Olivia entered the classified-ads department of the Mound City Monitor on Tucker Street. Located on the first floor, the office was open to walk-in clients until six o’clock. Chrissy buzzed Olivia through the security door.

      “Hi, Chrissy. I wanted to check on you personally.” Olivia gave her best friend a quick hug.

      “They were Braxton-Hicks contractions,” Chrissy said as she hopped on one foot, clearly needing to go to the restroom. “You’re a godsend. Lula called in sick today, which means she’s more likely at the stadium playing hooky, than on her deathbed. I’m here alone.”

      Chrissy wiggled her very pregnant body. She was due any day now.

      “Are you okay?” Olivia asked. She’d known Chrissy ever since junior high, when, despite their different socioeconomic backgrounds, they’d become best friends at Bible camp. Olivia’s family had viewed the month-long adventure as a natural extension of their daughter’s religious education; Chrissy’s family had hoped that discovering God would tame their daughter’s wild ways. The ultimate bad girl, Chrissy hadn’t truly reformed until she met Derek, fallen fast for him and gotten married.

      Chrissy palmed her stomach. “I’m doing well except for the baby having stationed itself right on top of my bladder. Watch the floor for me, will you? Don’t worry, the bosses aren’t around. Since the Cardinals lead the Central division, everyone cut out early to attend today’s baseball game.”

      “No problem,” Olivia said. “Besides, I know the paper’s owner.” Olivia’s cousin Darci was married to Cameron O’Brien. In fact, Darci and Cameron had first met when Cameron, the head of O’Brien Publications, had visited St. Louis to finalize the purchase of the Mound City Monitor and add it to the O’Brien Publications family.

      “That’s great, ’cause I really gotta go. You know what to do, right?”

      “You СКАЧАТЬ