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I was also making progress on leaving police work firmly in the past, my instincts aside. Even so, I needed to deal with the police right now.
I pulled out my phone and turned away as I called my old buddy Thomas to find out the best way to handle this situation. It wasn’t really one for the overtaxed 911 system, but an officer should be sent to the scene. There was a good chance they’d want to give Peyton a Breathalyzer, and of course they’d need to run her record to see if she had any outstanding warrants.
I eyed her, still chatting merrily with “Steve”, while I relayed what had happened to my old pal on the force. Almost offhandedly, I mentioned the name “Peyton Pryor” and Thomas sucked in a breath.
“NotthePeyton Pryor,” he said, his tone somehow reverent.
Husky feminine laughter made me aim a hard stare inthePeyton’s direction. “Apparently,” I muttered, hating that even her giggling was making me hard. Okay, harder, since liftoff had been achieved a while ago.
Damn her and bless her, all at once.
“So, ah, mind filling me in?” I asked in a low voice.
Peyton was too busy flipping her hair around her fingers and flirting with the dude who didn’t seem to give a fig that she’d curbed his expensive car to notice how longIwas taking on the phone.
Steve had probably been mesmerized by the boots. My gaze darted up her shapely expanse of thigh. I wasn’t the only one.
“On what?” Thomas questioned, still sounding a bit dazed.
Peyton seemed to inspire that reaction in men easily. Too easily, from where I was standing.
My gaze lifted from her sexy legs to the face she’d upturned to the night. Her eyes were closed and she was still smiling as she talked, the wind playing with her long dark hair. Lifting and separating the strands before letting them fall against the bodice of her clingy sweater dress. If she were naked, her hair would coyly curve around her nipples in a naughty version of peek-a-boo.
Dammit.
Thomas started to respond but I didn’t hear him, because Peyton’s eyes had opened to focus on mine. From the smug little smile she wore, she knew exactly what she was doing. She was fucking teasing me, flirting with that other dude just to get my attention in spite of how inappropriate it was considering the situation. She’d just had an accident and she didn’t even know my name.
I could be a serial killer. A man who collected body parts as trophies for my den. A guy who couldn’t stop thinking about paddling her taut little ass.
But that hadn’t stopped her from asking me home for the night. And it hadn’t stopped me from being ridiculously tempted.
Thomas used the phrase “one of the biggest pop stars” and I swallowed hard, though my mouth had gone dry.
Fuck me, I was going to do this.
It had been too long, and I didn’t give a shit about repercussions right now. She was a grown woman, and I was a grown man. If Steve didn’t give a whit about his damaged vehicle, then neither did I.
“Get someone out here to deal with this, please. Thanks, man. Talk to you later,” I said, abruptly cutting off my friend. I’d feel bad for it tomorrow, but I’d hit my limit.
Soon enough she’d understand exactly what she’d unleashed.
Pocketing my phone, I strode to her and inclined my chin. “He’s coming to collect the car?”
I half-expected her to ignore me or worse, argue. Instead she gave me a shaky nod and told Steve where he could find his car. She apologized profusely, stating again that she’d pay for any damages, and then she hung up and stared at me, her pale throat working.
Not so in control now, huh, pop princess?
Silently, she waited for me to make a move.
I moved closer. Her chest lifted and fell with a quick intake of breath. At least around me, her practiced seduction faltered.
Good. I intended to see in what other ways I could knock her off her game.
“Were you serious about us getting to know each other?” I brushed against the guitar case she’d gone back to clutching like a lifeline.
She nodded.
My mouth curled. I had a feeling she wasn’t quiet very often. “Cat got your tongue?”
