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Searching for Always(65)

By:Jennifer Probst


Her grin widened. “Girls talk. I think if you went in there, she’d be real grateful.”

Now he was turned on and confused. “Huh. I don’t want to break up a women-only party.”

“No, she’d love to see you. Seriously. Go talk to her.”

He shifted his weight. Maybe he should. After all, Gen wouldn’t send him in there if Arilyn didn’t want to see him. He’d just spend a few minutes. “Sure. Let me tell my partner and I’ll be right back.”

Stone poked his head out the door. His partner had both bozos in the backseat and a satisfied expression on his face. “What the hell happened?”

“They took swings at each other! Tumbled on the ground like two girls rolling around and punching. It was awesome. I’m gonna book ’em and take them in.”

Fuck. He’d missed it. “Listen, I gotta talk to someone. We’re off shift anyway, so get ’em to the station and I’ll get a ride home.”

“Sure? Gonna leave all the fun to me, huh?”

“Yeah, I’ll grab a cab. I may stay for a drink.”

“Got it. See you tomorrow.”

Stone headed to the back of the restaurant. Genevieve grabbed him and nudged him inside. “Go ahead. She’s going to be so excited to see you!”

Feeling a bit better on seeing Gen’s enthusiasm, Stone stepped into the room. The door slammed behind him. He looked around, expecting to find Arilyn, pull her aside, and have a private conversation.

Instead, he found himself in the snake pit.

Women surrounded him. Lots of women, all staring at him with a scary hunger that made him shudder. The group began to scream and stamp their heels on the floor as if he were the main attraction they’d been waiting for. What the hell was going on?

“He’s here!” a tall blonde yelled. “Get ready for an arrest, ladies!”

Huh?

A lone chair stood in the center of the circle. Suddenly, his ears hurt from the music blaring through the speakers. Was that “You Can Leave Your Hat On”? Wasn’t that a stripper song?

“Take it off, baby!”

“I’m breaking the law, sweetheart, come on over here!”

A brunette giggled and crooked her finger. “I’ve been real bad, Officer,” she yelled. “And I’m concealing a deadly weapon. Come frisk me!” Holy shit, she began jiggling her breasts at him.

It finally hit him. He was in a room full of very drunk women who thought he was their cop stripper. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Stone opened his mouth and tried to tell them, but a pretty woman with caramel-colored hair shook her head as if annoyed by his silence, walked to the center of the room, and grabbed his hand.

Her smile reminded him of a shark’s. “I paid good money for you, dude,” she whispered. “Don’t just stand there. Give us a show; we won’t bite.”

“I got money, Officer!” a brunette screamed. “Come and get it!”

No way. This wasn’t really happening, was it?

“I think there’s been a mistake, ma’am,” he said firmly. “I’m not a stripper. I’m a cop.”

The blonde rolled her eyes. “Sure, sure, you’re a cop. Take your shirt off, dance a bit, and arrest someone. I promise I’ll tip you extra. Oh, Kate is the bride, she’s hiding over there.” She pointed a finger at a woman dressed in black with silvery blond hair, squashed behind two of her friends with a scared look on her face.

“She doesn’t look real interested,” he said. “Maybe getting her a stripper wasn’t such a great idea.”

The woman glared at him with whiskey eyes. “Everyone needs a stripper. Now, I’m sorry if you’re suddenly shy and want to choke, but I promise we’ll respect you. Just take some clothes off, shimmy your hips, and make us happy. Deal?” He opened his mouth to tell her no way in hell, he was no damn stripper, but she clapped her hands. “Okay, ladies, our hot policeman is ready! Kate, get your ass in the chair.”

The group screamed and whistled and stamped their feet. Dollar bills waved madly in the air. Women swayed to the beat, waiting for him to take his clothes off.

“Arilyn, help me!” Kate screamed.

Then he saw her.

She walked toward him, weaving her way through the screaming women, and positioned herself right in front of the chair.

Holy. Shit.

Miles of long legs. Feet clad in fuck-me knee-high boots. He groaned as the sudden image of those legs wrapping tight around his hips while he drove inside of her swarmed his vision. Her mouth opened in a little shocked O, and her gorgeous meadow-green eyes were slightly blurred and unfocused. Definitely tipsy. On the way to drunk. She held a green fruity drink—probably an apple martini like Genevieve’s—and wore the tiniest, hottest outfit he’d ever seen.