Out of Control

“Neither do I.” The gun and badge found their place on his belt. He started the engine. “I haven’t had an enounter like this…for a while.”

He fastened his seat belt, and while Alex did the same, he shifted into reverse and backed out of the alley.

Alex tucked her tangled hair behind her ears. “An encounter sounds like a clandestine rendezvous. Like we were supposed to meet. I’m…”

He checked for traffic and pulled onto the street. “You’re what?”

“Confused.”

“Join the club.”

“Yeah, but you’re…older.”

“So I’ve been told.” The lights from the street and other cars let her read the hard expression that deepened the lines on his face. “Doesn’t mean I’ve got women all figured out.”

Her laugh sounded more like a snort. Yeah, she was a real femme fatale. Not. At least not outside that alley. “I sure don’t have men figured out.”

“I’m not going to apologize for what happened.”

“I don’t want you to.” The old Alex’s doubts were quickly resufacing. “I know we didn’t do…everything. But, you enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

“Hell yeah, sweetheart. I enjoyed it a little too much.”

Alex frowned. “You can enjoy it too much?”

He swore and Alex jerked in her seat. “There are rules and regulations to life. To my job. I think I’ve broken about every last damn one of them with you tonight.”

“I’m sorry.”

He headed up a hill, picking up speed. “Don’t be sorry. Be mad. Get that lawyer of yours and sue me.”

“Why?”

“I was supposed to be rescuing a damsel in distress, not gettin’ my rocks off with her. You can report me for that. In fact, I’ll give you the form to fill out and introduce you to the officer where you can file a complaint against me.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she smiled. “I don’t have any complaints. No one’s ever called me a damsel in distress before. That’s kind of girly, isn’t it?”

“I suppose.” She didn’t understand the 180 degree shifts in his mood from hero of the hour to angry cop, but she had a feeling she was going to be okay. “So, milady—will you let me drive you to precinct headquarters before something worse than me happens to you?”

He maneuvered them smoothly through the late-night traffic and pedestrians. “Is that where we’re going?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re not arresting me?”

“I’m the one who screwed up tonight, not you. Here.” He pulled out his cell phone and handed it across the seat to her. “The call’s on me.” He stopped at an intersection and watched her punch in a number. “Contacting a friend? Family? That lawyer of yours?”

Alex smiled, feeling extraordinarily relieved and comforted by the simple gift of a phone call. “All of the above. My big brother. He’ll come get me.”

“Tell him to meet you at the downtown precinct station.”

She slid a glance across the seat to her knight in shining armor while she waited for Nick to answer. “You won’t tell my brother what we did tonight, will you?”

He scoffed. “If you don’t tell my deputy chief.”

Nick Morgan picked up after the second ring. “Alex? You okay? I saw Buell and his buddies yukking it up at the track tonight, and I couldn’t help but think…I called your cell a dozen times. You’ve got me scared shitless here.”

“I’m okay.” The truck slowed and turned into a parking garage. “My date with Drew’s friend didn’t go as well as I expected. And I lost my purse.”

Her brother swore. She could hear her father in the background now, asking questions. “She’s okay, Dad.” Nick explained a few details to their father, George Morgan, then turned his attention back to the phone. “You’re not hurt?”

She’d been embarrassed, angry, frustrated and a little afraid before this smoky-haired detective had literally picked her up off the street. But she hadn’t been hurt. “I’m okay, Nick. I met…” Detective Galahad was watching her, hanging on to every word. “Nashville PD has been very helpful.” In ways that made her blush and turn away. “Just come get me, okay? I’m at the downtown precinct station.”

“I’ll be there in forty minutes. I love you, Shrimp.”

“I love you too, Nick.”

They were parked beneath the precinct offices by the time she handed the phone back to the detective.

“Thank you.” She offered him a hesitant smile. “Big brother will save the day.”

He nodded. “So now I know this infamous lawyer-slash-wonder-brother of yours is Nick. You ever gonna tell me your name?”

“Look, Detective…” She unfastened her seat belt and reached for the exit handle. “Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed tonight, but…”

She laughed. It was a sad sound, really—a sound that revealed just how much this encounter had been an aberration for her, for both of them, perhaps.

“This isn’t reality. Let’s forget the names so we can skip the embarrassment of you mentioning tonight to anybody who happens to know anybody I happen to know. Okay?”

“Okay. Your call. Tonight never happened.”

So why did it hurt that he’d agreed so easily to her request?

3

Dahlia, Tennessee Present day

“MMM. YEAH. RIGHT THERE.”

Alexandra Morgan caught her tongue between parched lips as her thoughts drifted away from the fan belt she stretched between her hands and took note of how the fender of the ’94 Buick she was repairing pressed against the juncture of her thighs. A pocket of pressure was gathering where hard steel met soft woman, fueled by an errant fantasy that seemed to keep cropping up at the most inopportune times.

Normally, she relegated her secret fantasies to the privacy of her bedroom or one of her late-night bubble baths where she washed away the grime of a day spent in the family garage where she worked as a mechanic. But this was a routine fix on a slow day, just maintenance stuff for a local customer. The real excitement of her job wouldn’t start until tomorrow or Thursday, when the drag racers who frequented the Dahlia Speedway across the parking lot started showing up for replacement parts and tune-ups in preparation for the regular weekend races.

In other words, Alex was bored. And when she was bored, her mind wandered. Wandering into something as pleasant as her fabricated forbidden affair with the big-city cop with the wide shoulders and hushed, seductive words was a welcome respite from the grief and anger over her brother Nick’s recent death that normally filled her head these days.

Outside the open doors of Morgan & Son’s Garage, the afternoon air was heavy with the promise of a spring rain. Maybe the green scents of budding trees and flower blossoms hanging in the mist and dappling her bare arms with moisture had reminded her subconscious mind of those bubble baths where a cop with stormy gray eyes had had his way with her time and again in an assortment of imaginary story lines.

Her imagination took her to places far removed from tense, worrisome reality.