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

Too bad he found nothing amusing about dealing with Miranda Jackson. And yet, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. She drew his attention and held if fast. What kind of self-defeating complex did he have going here?

“You’re doing it again,” Miranda said, jostling him back to the present.

Vance jerked his gaze off her full breasts. “Doing what?”

“Staring at me as if you can see…” Her gaze flicked away, unable to maintain visual contact. “I don’t like it when men look past the uniform. It’s insulting and degrading.”

“Then try pinning that badge someplace besides on your chest,” Vance teased, and then grinned scampishly when her face flushed beet red. “Look, Officer Jackson, I’m trying my damn…er…darnedest to stay out of your way and to see you impersonally, but you might as well know that I find you attractive.

“I don’t particularly like you and you definitely don’t like me, but there you have it. Right smack-dab out in the open. Now, if you want to arrest me for that, then fine. I’ll plead no contest. But just because I can’t seem to help liking what I see, doesn’t mean I plan to throw myself at you. I do have some restraint. Are we clear on that, ma’am?”

Miranda stared into his ruggedly handsome face, into those entrancing midnight-colored eyes, and felt the unwanted jolt of attraction jarring her entire body. “Okay, since you’re being honest I’ll return the favor. I like the looks of you, too, even if you don’t take things seriously and you drive the most pathetic excuse for a vehicle that ever cruised the highway. You’re good-looking and I’m sure you know it. Same goes for your two cousins.”

“Three, actually,” he corrected, lips twitching. “But Gage is out of the country, breaking foreign hearts as we speak, I suspect. And thank you for the compliment, ma’am. Even if you think I’m stupid, it’s nice to know you don’t find me hideously ugly while you’re handing me warnings and tickets.”

Miranda broke down and smiled when he grinned playfully. She just couldn’t help it. The man was a charmer when he wanted to be. His smile was contagious and those devilish eyes lured her into their dark, shiny depths.

“Well, I guess that’s that. Now we can attend the chief’s upcoming meeting without going for each other’s throats,” she said, taking another step away from more the unwanted lure of Vance Ryder.

“Fine with me.” He poked his head out the window and extended his hand. “Shall we shake on it and call a truce?”

Miranda placed her hand in his—and felt the sizzle of electricity humming through her body. She quickly extracted her hand from his grasp and noted her palm was sweating. For heaven’s sake, what was the matter with her? Since graduating from the academy she’d learned to handle a variety of tense and dangerous situations. So why was dealing with this particular cowboy different? Why did he affect her to such unprecedented extremes? She’d never felt such an intense reaction to the presence or the casual touch of a man before.

It was so unlike her. She lived for the job. Yet, since the moment she encountered Vance Ryder her hormones had gone completely haywire. This was absurd. She didn’t even like him very much and he admitted he didn’t care much for her, either.

She and Vance were like protons and neutrons bouncing around inside the same atom, repelling each other, colliding with each other. They were absolutely nothing alike. They had nothing in common. They approached life from opposing directions. She took life, and her job, seriously and he didn’t seem capable of taking anything seriously—except their previous shouting match in Tate’s office.

Vance flexed and clenched his fist then clamped his hands around the steering wheel. He took his gaze off her and stared through the recently washed windshield. “I need to get going.”

“If the blinkers don’t work on this bucket of bolts, please use hand signals when you veer onto the graveled road,” she instructed, falling back into police mode. “Have a good day, sir.”

Vance glanced sideways at her and her heart gave an unexpected lurch when his obsidian eyes twinkled and he flashed one of those smiles that no woman could resist.

“You, too, Officer,” he said in a low, raspy voice that drifted down her spine like a seductive caress.

When the truck rumbled off, its engine sputtering, Miranda pivoted on her heels to return to her squad car. She sincerely hoped that after the Saturday meeting at headquarters she wouldn’t see Vance Ryder—except at a safe distance. She had no intention of getting interested in that cowboy. After all, she was only going to be employed by HRPD until Uncle Tate gave her the nod to take a position in Oklahoma City.

Miranda had her life planned out. Had a promising career ahead of her. She intended to follow in her dad’s and her two brothers’ footsteps. A family of cops serving in the same jurisdiction. It was all she’d ever wanted, all she’d dreamed about.

For sure, she wasn’t going to get sidetracked by a down-on-his luck rancher who drove a beat-up truck and probably had the ambition of a slug.

On that determined thought Miranda slid beneath the steering wheel then cruised off to ensure the speed demons around Hoot’s Roost observed traffic codes.

VANCE INWARDLY GRIMACED when he put on the brakes and saw his cousins leaning leisurely against the fender of Quint’s red pickup. Those two rascals were lying in wait, ready to tease the hell out of him for getting stopped two days in a row by the same lady cop. He didn’t want them niggling him for information because, as much as he didn’t approve of Randi Jackson and her gung ho attitude, shaking hands with her and staring too long at that gorgeous bod of hers set off disturbing explosions of sexual attraction. It was insane. Plus, he’d gotten aroused just watching her walk toward him.

Jeez, if ever there was a more unlikely pair, he and Randi were it. He smiled easily and often. She didn’t. He looked for amusement in everything he did. She took everything megaseriously and stood behind her badge like a protective shield. But, man was she hot. The way she filled out her blue uniform should’ve been a full-fledged crime.

“So, cuz,” Wade said playfully, “how’s your ongoing battle with law working out?”

When Quint snickered, Vance glared at the demonic duo. “Don’t wanna talk about it. We’ve got work to do.”

“So, are you busted or not?” Quint asked, ignoring Vance’s thunderous scowl. “Or is the officer in question the only one busted?”

“Knock it off,” Vance growled. “She’s an officer of the law and her bustline is not open for discussion.”

Again, his wicked cousins snickered. Vance seriously considered punching the grins off their faces.

“Surely you realize we aren’t going to lift a finger to help you hook up the spray rigs to the tractors until you tell us what happened yesterday when you marched yourself down to the police station and explain why you got stopped today.”

“Do you have to pay the hefty fine or not?” Wade quizzed.

“I don’t know yet,” Vance mumbled, resigned to giving his report before any work got done. “But since I discovered the lady cop is Tate Jackson’s darling niece, I expect to pay through the nose. Tate is reserving judgment in the matter until the end of the week.”

“His niece?” Wade and Quint parroted in unison. “You are kidding.”

“No, for once, I’m not.” Vance grabbed the five-gallon jugs of pesticide from the back of the clunker truck.

Wade retrieved the garden hose, crammed one end into the top of the spray tank, and then switched on the water. “Tate’s a bachelor, right? Never had kids?”

“Not that I know of,” Quint said as he checked for clogs in the spigots on the spray rig. “I guess that means his niece is pretty special to him.”

“That’d be my guess.” Vance climbed onto the supporting beam of the rig to pour the concentrated chemicals into the tank. “Most likely, I’ll have to pay the fine and apologize for yelling at Randi during our three-way conference.”

Wade’s gaze leaped to Vance. “You yelled at her in front of the chief of police? Are you nuts?”

“Must be,” Quint diagnosed. “You might as well have pinned a note on your chest that said—Fine Me—Big-Time. I’m An Idiot.”

“Well, she yelled at me first,” he said defensively then frowned. “I think. We were both yelling at each other. I don’t remember who started it, but Tate put a stop to it.”

Wade glanced at Quint. Both men snickered again. Damn them. It was going to be a long afternoon, Vance decided.

3

MIRANDA SWITCHED ON the sirens and lights when she saw the dark blue extended cab pickup whizzing toward town. The driver was doing eight miles over the speed limit and she intended to call him on it.

When the truck pulled over, Miranda swerved off the road and climbed from the squad car. She opened her mouth to ask what the big rush was all about then snapped her jaw shut when she glanced through the open window to see the spic-and-span version of the dusty cowboy she’d encountered for the fifth time in three days.

“Great,” she muttered sourly. He was like a curse that wouldn’t go away.

Vance rolled his eyes, sighed audibly and lifted his hand, palm upward. “Just gimme the blasted ticket. I was speeding. I’m late for a date. I’m guilty,” he said, staring straight through the windshield—anywhere but at her.

Miranda frowned pensively. Vance definitely deserved a fine for speeding, but if she gave it to him she predicted her uncle would think she was out to get this cowboy. Damn, she prided herself in going by the book—until the morning she clashed with Vance and allowed her fierce reaction to interfere with her job.

Although it went against the grain she decided not to ticket Vance, for fear he’d twist this incident against her during the conference with the chief. “Just slow this thing down, speed demon,” she ordered brusquely.

He nodded then cast her a quick sidelong glance. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.”

Well, at least he was showing some respect. No corny jokes, no teasing grins. No flirtation or appraising stares. So why did she feel a little disappointed that he wouldn’t even look at her? He was going out on a date. Why did she care? She didn’t. It didn’t bother her in the least. Right?