Capturing the Cop

“Rats!” Olivia flipped on her blinker and ignored the honking from the Cavalier behind her, which had seen better days. Sorry, she mouthed to the irritated driver. Luck was with her and she found a convenient parking space on a side street. Steadying her nerves, she parallel-parked her car. The back tire ended up too close to the curb and she was between the lines, but—good enough. As she killed the engine, her phone rang. Thinking it might be Garrett, she answered before she checked the number on the caller ID.

“Olivia,” the familiar voice said. The voice of her conscience.

Olivia greeted her stepmother. “Hello, Sara.”

“I’m glad I caught you. I heard you left work early the other day. Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” Olivia said. That was the one thing about living at home. Everyone knew your business, even if you had moved out back to the pool house.

“So are you on your way here? I thought you could come up to the house for dinner. Blake’s at a meeting and I’m by myself.”

Just when was her parents’ next stadium tour? For people who were always out saving the world, they’d been home an awful lot lately. Olivia peered in the rearview mirror and checked her lipstick. A touch-up wouldn’t hurt. The ravish me red had faded. “I’ll have to pass on the invitation. I’m meeting a friend.”

“A friend.” Sara sounded a tad too bright as she hid her disappointment that Olivia had plans. “Do I know her?”

Olivia groaned. “Actually, Sara, no.”

“So someone new?”

“I’m going on a dinner date tonight,” Olivia admitted, since the truth was easier than dreaming up some quickie lie.

Sara seemed stunned. “You have a date?”

Without air-conditioning, the car was heating up quickly, Olivia squirmed. “Yes. A date.”

“With who?”

“Someone new,” Olivia repeated, agitation growing as the car began to bake in the July heat. “We just met. You don’t know him.”

“Olivia, you’re terrible with men. And how can I not know him? I’ve met everyone in your crowd. You’ve been hanging out with them for ages.”

Which, when one thought about it, was exactly the problem. Olivia drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. One of these days she’d learn to keep her mouth shut. That was what bad girls did.

Bad girls kept secrets from their stepmothers, even if, in Olivia’s case, the stepmother had really been the only mother she’d ever known.

Sara considered it her duty to get Olivia married, and to a godly and righteous man. As Olivia’s age edged closer to thirty-one, Sara’s maternal instinct had grown. What made Sara’s constant meddling worse was that Olivia had her grandfather to contend with, as well. He was the ultimate matchmaker.

Grandpa Joe had successfully gotten Olivia’s brother, Shane, and her cousins Darci and Harry wed. Figuring that if Grandpa Joe could bring on marital bliss, then she could, too, Sara had turned into a regular dating service for Olivia. The last man she’d introduced Olivia to had aspired to be a missionary deep inside Africa. His plans for their life had driven Olivia crazy after three minutes. No way was she sacrificing running water and electricity to help the less fortunate. Maybe that made her shallow, but not even her parents did that.

A bead of sweat formed on her brow. Time to get going. “Sara, I’m really sorry I can’t stop by tonight. I’ll come up to the main house for breakfast tomorrow. Give my love to Dad. I’ve got to run.”

Satisfied she’d said enough, Olivia disconnected before Sara launched into the lecture Olivia could tell was coming. Olivia began to put the phone in her purse but on further thought, placed the phone securely in the glove compartment. Knowing Sara, Olivia was sure her stepmother would call back, and nothing was going to ruin this night.

Heck, Olivia’s younger half brother, Shane, had sown a bucketful of oats before settling down. If Olivia even mentioned sowing a seed, her stepmother had the whole worldwide constituency out praying for her wayward, virginal stepdaughter. She’d been a fixture in her stepmother’s ministry column for years.

Olivia touched up her lipstick and opened the car door. As she stepped out, the St. Louis humidity instantly enveloped her. She smoothed out a wrinkle in her V-necked spaghetti-strap sundress. She’d wrestled all morning with her wardrobe, which had to go from work to her date. How she’d thought about wearing something bad, something black, sexy and oh, so “take me now.”

In the end, even if she had owned something like that, she couldn’t have done it. Instead, she’d settled for lace underwear, and had worn the sundress for its cleavage-enhancing abilities. She’d left the matching short-sleeved sweater in her office. She gripped her small white purse and began walking toward the restaurant.

As for the date, Olivia couldn’t remember ever being so nervous. She’d had enough blind dates in college to last her a lifetime. And then, of course, Sara had paraded eligible men through the endless social engagements that being Blake and Sara Jacobsen entailed. Both types of experiences had taught Olivia that she was terrible on her feet and lousy with idle conversation. She’d learned not to care, to pretend her inadequacies didn’t bother her, although deep down they did.

But tonight she worried. None of the men she’d met before had been as sexy as Garrett Krause. None of the men had seemed so ideal.

“Perfect for my project,” Olivia told herself aloud, much to the amusement of a passerby. Olivia walked on, voicing her thoughts only in her head. He’ll be my VITO boy. VITO was an acronym Chrissy had coined in high school—the letters being the first two of the words “virginity to.”

He’ll be the one I give my virginity to, Olivia thought. I’m thirty. It’s way past time to become a real woman, no matter what my parents say about waiting for marriage and Mr. Right. Olivia wobbled a little in the two-inch heels she wore. Garrett was tall, and she didn’t wish for him to tower over her too much.

Oh, who was she trying to fool? She never wore heels higher than an inch, and trying to be a femme fatale was as foreign to her as going to China. But tonight she hoped Garrett would find her sexy, invigorating, funny and beautiful—and slightly bad. She’d chosen him to deflower her, and she desired all that went along with the kiss and the promise of Mr. Right Now taking her to the edge and beyond. Darn it, she was long overdue. She was tired of reading about it—she wanted action. She was at the restaurant. Her fingers shook as she reached for the door handle. The moment had arrived.

CLIFF WAS ABOUT TO SIGNAL his waitress for another beer, when a movement at the hostess desk caught his attention. He lowered his hand and blinked just to make sure that what he’d seen, he’d seen clearly. He had. What was high-society Olivia Jacobsen doing in a place with zero star ratings, and alone?

Cliff squinted as some sunlight snuck underneath the awning and blinded him for a moment. When he could see again, his mouth immediately dried to a cottony texture. Garrett was greeting Olivia. She had the nerve to blush as Garrett pulled out her chair.

She was five minutes late, but the fact that Cliff had lost the “how late will she be?” bet with the guys wasn’t what upset him.

His best friend was about to have a date with Olivia Jacobsen, former fiancée of Cliff’s cousin Austin. Cliff’s parents had money and connections, but Austin’s had even more. However, the engagement had lasted only four weeks before she’d handed back the flawless diamond solitaire. Less than three months later, Olivia had been sporting another engagement ring, this one more ostentatious than Austin’s offering. Of course, that engagement also fizzled. Sure, Austin was now happily married to someone else, but in Cliff’s opinion, Olivia had toyed with his cousin’s heart.

So what was Olivia doing with Garrett, a man who couldn’t afford even a tiny engagement ring since his ex-wife had cleaned him out? This was not good. Garrett had always declared that he’d never date a rich woman again, yet here he was with Olivia. Cliff tossed his napkin on the table. He needed to get Garrett out of here—now. Cliff began to rise to his feet, but sat back down quickly before his partners noticed his erratic behavior.

Cliff clenched his hand to ease the overwhelming tension now consuming him. Had he really been about to confront Olivia? And what would he have said when he got there? He would have acted like a complete idiot. He’d have to trust that Garrett planned on doing what he had said—going on one date and one only.

Cliff frowned. Garrett had called Olivia the counter girl at the Monitor office. Everyone knew Olivia Jacobsen was vice president of corporate communications for her family’s company, Jacobsen Enterprises. She certainly didn’t work behind a counter, but probably in a lush, upper-story office with a fantastic view of downtown. Which meant, could this be a thing staged by Garrett to get the guys off his back?

Cliff took a deep, long pull of the cold beer that the waitress had placed at his elbow. Not only was Cliff a detective with sharp instincts, but he knew Garrett. The way Garrett was now toying with Olivia’s fingers meant that he didn’t have a clue who she really was.

In fact, now Cliff could view almost all of the picture, much the way he did when working a police case or puzzle. Garrett had needed a date to fulfill a bet, and somehow he’d found Olivia, probably at the Monitor offices. Why she’d been there was a mystery to solve later. Cliff would bet money that Garrett hadn’t asked Olivia her last name. Even if he had, he wouldn’t connect some counter girl with one of St. Louis’s most powerful families. He had no idea that he was out with a woman wealthier than his ex-wife.

Cliff drained more of his beer, his eyes narrowing as he saw Garrett laugh at something Olivia said. From all appearances, the date was actually going well, and as a friend, Cliff acknowledged he should be elated. Wasn’t this exactly what the guys had asked for? That Garrett be back out there on the scene? The deed done, Mason and Ben had already lost interest in Garrett’s date and were discussing how they liked the new Busch Stadium, which had opened last April.

Suddenly Ben asked Cliff a question, and Cliff turned his attention away from Garrett and Olivia. He consoled himself with one thing. If she hurt his best friend, Olivia Jacobsen would be dealing with him—and that was a promise.

Chapter Four

Garrett Krause was Mr. Right Now, Olivia decided the moment she’d let him seat her at the table for two. When his fingers had skimmed her bare shoulder, a shiver had ricocheted through her and curled her toes. Whoa.

No man’s touch had ever made her react this way. She was alive. Free. And as much as she tried to concentrate on what he was saying, it was impossible when all she could do was watch his full lips move and wonder what they would taste like during a kiss. If Garrett could bottle his sexual magnetism, he could make a fortune.

She’d definitely chosen correctly. Making love to this man would be pure heat. Her two fiancés hadn’t even raised her temperature one degree by holding her hand. Garrett’s touch had her boiling.

She hoped that tonight that he’d touch her everywhere else.

She attempted to tamp down her desire as the waitress took Olivia’s order for iced tea. Olivia had noticed Garrett drinking the unsweetened beverage, and decided that, despite her desire to be really bad and have some alcoholic courage for the night ahead, being drunk was not the way to accomplish her goal. She had never handled liquor well, and with this man, one drink was liable to have her jumping on Garrett and yelling, “Do me now.”

Her desire to lose her virginity to this gorgeous man and thus cross over to the other side and into the womanhood club notwithstanding, climbing all over him was not how Olivia intended to seduce. She wanted the flesh-and-blood act to be wonderful, a thing of which memories were made. She wanted special; she required things on her terms. She’d let parents, religion and morals control her actions for a long time, but that didn’t mean she was planning on tossing all integrity aside tonight. Despite her desire to break free, be bad and not conform to the expectations with which she’d been raised, she did not want her first experience to be tawdry.

In the flesh, Garrett Krause was every woman’s fantasy, including hers. The red polo shirt he wore failed to conceal the toned body underneath. Golden-blond hair covered his tanned arms. Blue eyes to drown in held her gaze. His full lips had already sent his dimples creasing up toward high cheekbones.

And when his fingers touched her shoulders…Olivia struggled to pay attention to what he was saying and to keep her dangerous thoughts at bay.