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“Sweets for my sweet. I’ll see you tomorrow.” If nothing else, he would get to see her at the photo shoot. He kissed the top of her head and released her before she could complain, then walked out to his car.
He definitely wasn’t canceling the Thursday delivery.
*
Conner made itto the office before anyone else assigned to the task force. He confirmed that the surveillance team saw no activity the night before and checked his email. Then he did a basic internet search on Mariah Gordan, Parker’s ex. Although his childhood friend had never had trouble with girls and dated a string of girlfriends in college, when he met Mariah, it all changed. Parker had settled into a committed relationship with a devotion that surprised Conner. The woman had been conceited, snobby, and condescending, so Conner hadn’t bothered to get to know her. He assumed it would be a short-lived relationship. Now all he could recall was she’d been from some wealthy family and treated Parker like a possession.
Mariah Gordan, it turned out, had plenty of social media posts and hundreds of publicity headshots. She lived in Charlotte, Virginia and was from old money. Her family had a shipping fleet, but it was unclear what she did, if anything. If he had to guess, she was some kind of socialite or influencer. The only question was, what was the best way to get a self-absorbed, filthy rich, spoiled woman to admit she was a lying, conniving, terrible girlfriend?
Chapter Nine
Wednesday morning, Hannahdecided that being surrounded by gorgeous, half-naked men on her day off was never a bad idea. Standing outside the firehouse, she watched as a photographer set up a few scenes. The firemen who volunteered for the charity calendar would pose with their fire truck and some equipment—classic stuff. A few police officers stood by with their cruisers, motorcycles, and a K-9 dog, and several of her paramedic colleagues were more than happy to volunteer.
When a familiar Jeep pulled into the lot, excitement unfurled low in her belly. Conner was sexy in his uniform, but the thought of him half undressed was causing her palms to sweat.
“How did you get Sergeant Stud to agree to this?” her partner, Dre, asked.
Dre had been a paramedic for more than a decade and knew every first responder in the city. She was in her early forties with two kids in middle school, and had been happily married for almost twenty years.
“It was his idea.”
“If I weren’t married, I’d be giving you a run for your money with that one,” Dre said, nudging her. “Looks like he wants you to frisk him.”
She spurted out her coffee as Conner walked with purpose right toward her.
“Hi. Thanks for making time for the shoot.”
“Good morning.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Dre, are you helping supervise?”
“It’s a hard job, but someone has got to do it. Someone could get sunburned,” Dre said while looking past them at the firemen now flexing for the camera.
A half dozen men with muscles and chiseled jaws were on full display, and Hannah couldn’t take her eyes off Conner.
Even though it was only nine in the morning, the sun was shining brightly, and the men seemed to be getting into it as the pretty female photographer coached them. The other firemen at the firehouse had pulled lawn chairs out to watch with numbers drawn on pieces of cardboard to rate each man and his pose.
“We’re never going to live down these photos,” Conner said. The lines of his jaw flexed.
Surely, he’d shaved his beard just to torture her more. His handsome face was now on full display, and like catnip, she couldn’t stop looking at him. He caught her stare, and a smirk passed his lips.
More police officers arrived, and the photographer thanked the firemen before calling for the group of police.
“Oh, that’s my cue. Don’t go anywhere. I have something for you,” Conner said to her before striding away toward his colleagues.
Trying not to watch every second of Conner unbuttoning his dress shirt as the photographer looked for his best angle was torture. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs that every angle was his best angle, but obviously she couldn’t. By the second shot, Conner had his shirt off, and she broke into a sweat. Tan, muscular abs, hard pecs carved out on his broad chest, wide shoulders indented with more muscles and a light dusting of auburn hair along a happy trail that led down to his belt buckle. Her mouth was dry, her eyes glued to him. A sharp inhale of breath next to her finally broke through her thoughts of what she’d like to see Conner do next.
Next to her, Dre was openly gawking and not-so-subtly snapping pics of all the men with her phone.
“I feel a little like a voyeur. Maybe we should go do a loop around the block and let them work.”
Dre pocketed her phone and took a seat in the back of their ambulance.
“There is no way you’re getting me to leave before I see what happens next.”
Laughing, Hannah sat down and accepted her fate. She was just going to have to watch as Conner stood like a proud peacock, no shirt, abs for days, wild hair, and a dimple in his left cheek she wanted to lick. As if he knew what she was thinking, he looked over to her, capturing her stare and holding it long enough for everyone to know, and then he winked at her. The heat rising up her neck only solidified that she was lusting after Conner, and everyone could see it.
“Oh, girl. You are gonna get it, and I’m so jealous,” Dre said.
“What’re you going to get, Hannah?” Parker appeared at the side of her ambulance and asked.
