When Kelsey arrived at the precinct for roll call, she thought about how much nicer it would be if she were sitting on that Jamaican beach again, drinking rum and feeling the ocean breeze. Instead she sat in a musty room with a bunch of other cops, waiting on the sergeant to brief them for their morning shift. She killed time by flipping around on her phone. She clicked to Facebook, and that was when she saw it.

A friend request from Brett?

Suddenly she felt a little lightheaded. She couldn’t believe it. He wanted to be friends? Since when did dancing in his apartment equal friendship?

It didn't. It was just one more way he was trying to get under her skin, and no way was she letting that happen again. She didn't friend just anyone, and certainly not Brett Hollister.

Angi came into the room carrying a white bakery sack. She sat beside Kelsey and pulled out a cinnamon roll. “You didn’t get a suntan,” she said, handing the sack to Kelsey. “Not even a pink nose. How did you go to Jamaica and get no sun at all?”

“SPF 30,” Kelsey said, digging out her blueberry muffin. Fortunately, her black eye had faded considerably since last night, and a tiny bit of the makeup she'd found at the back of her bathroom cabinet had concealed it well enough that Angi didn’t seem to notice it. Good thing, or she’d have to tell the bridal bouquet story all over again.

“So did you meet any guys at the wedding?” Angi asked.

“Oh, yeah. There were guys there.”

“Any prospects?’

“Nope.”

Angi took a bite of her cinnamon roll, talking as she chewed. “Weddings are supposed to be good for meeting the man of your dreams, but that’s a lie. I’ve been to eight of them. Do you see me with the man of my dreams?”

Sean Riley leaned over and gave Angi a leering grin. “I’m the man of your dreams, Clarkson. Just say the word, and I’ll take you to heaven.”

“Yeah?” Angi said. “And just how are you going to do that without your girlfriend finding out?”

“We have an open relationship.”

“Bullshit. If Laura found out you were cheating, she’d wrap your balls around your neck until your eyes bugged out.”

Riley frowned, sitting back in his chair. “Way to ruin the fantasy, Clarkson. I bet you tell kids there’s no Santa Claus, too.”

Speaking of the man of her dreams, Kelsey thought back to that last night in Jamaica. Had Kiki been right? Did she already know her Mr. Right? One by one, she glanced around the room at the men she worked with.

Let’s see…no.

No.

Married.

No.

Gay.

Hmm…no.

Married.

No.

HELL no.

Married.

Even if he was the only man left on earth—NO!

Kelsey sighed. Kiki was clearly dead wrong. She was not destined to fall in love with a man she already knew, and certainly not before the next full moon.

Then she glanced at her phone again and thought about Brett. When her heart turned a somersault and her face heated up, she gave herself a mental slap. Not him! No! A million times NO!

“Ladies and gentlemen! May I have your attention, please!”

A hush fell over the room. Sergeant Perry stood at the podium, a twenty‑year veteran with a graying buzz cut and a permanent expression of supreme irritation. He began by giving them details about a pickpocket who was working Rockefeller Center, and then he invited Officer Pendergrass to update them on the search for the perpetrators in a recent convenience store robbery.

“And now for our feature presentation,” Sergeant Perry said, frowning so heavily his already creased forehead looked like a parched riverbed. “Yesterday there was a call to the Wallingford Hotel. Evidently there was a woman in the lobby who neglected to put on clothing that morning. Do any of you officers recall the incident to which I’m referring?”

Perry fanned his gaze over the room, but nobody seemed inclined to respond.

“Let’s do this another way. I want a show of hands. Which of you responded to this call?”

Perry never asked a question he didn’t already know the answer to, so they had no choice. One by one, seven officers raised their hands.

“Officer Riley,” Perry said. “Was this particular naked woman armed?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Riley said.

“Not to your knowledge? It takes very little knowledge to ascertain whether or not a naked woman is armed. And I do believe that fact was transmitted back to the dispatcher, was it not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Am I to believe,” Perry said, “that it took seven officers to put a blanket over an unarmed, noncombative woman and take her for a psych evaluation?”

As the Salacious Seven dropped their heads and stared anywhere but at the sergeant, Perry went on about the length of time it took for them to locate that blanket in a place where hundreds of people slept. Then he wrapped up his reprimand by saying if he heard of that kind of behavior again, personnel records would be updated in a way that would be rather distressing to the officers involved.

“That’s it, ladies and gentlemen,” Perry said. “Now get out there and make the taxpayers proud.”

As Perry left the room, Kelsey rose from her chair, shaking her head. “You guys are unbelievable. Seven of you? Seven? There was an armed robbery at Reliant Savings last week and only four of you showed up.”

“That’s because the armed robber wasn’t a naked woman," Angi said.

“Yeah, right,” Riley snapped. “Like if a naked man was hanging around a hotel lobby, you two wouldn’t go sneak a peek?”

“Stick to porn,” Angi said. “Nobody was ever written up for messing with that in their spare time.”

“Bite me, Clarkson.”

“Bite you? Is that part of the fantasy?”

“Come on, Angi,” Kelsey said. “We need to get out on the street in case a supermodel spits gum on the sidewalk. When danger strikes, we have to be ready to back up our fellow officers.”

In the wake of a few more snotty remarks, Kelsey and Angi left the building and got into their car. Angi pulled out the tube of lipstick in a mirrored holder she kept tucked into her duty belt. She uncapped the tube and smeared a generous amount of Captivating Crimson onto her lips.

“Will you stop?” Kelsey said.

“Stop what?” Angi said, smacking her lips together.

“Putting on lipstick. You're a cop. You're supposed to look dangerous.”

Angi twisted her head left and right as she looked into the tiny mirror. “Like I can't look dangerous and hot?”

Kelsey shook her head. Angi was a good cop. She could definitely get serious when the situation called for it. But if the situation didn't, she ended up doing crap like the lipstick in the mirror thing and smiling inappropriately at guys who weren't, at that particular moment, breaking the law.

“I don't get it,” Kelsey said. “What made you ever become a cop in the first place?”

“I told you. It was a career day thing when I was in high school.”

“So it sounded that interesting?”

“Oh, hell, no. It was the cop who spoke that got me going. He was so hot I thought he was going to set the room on fire. You get that kind of association going in my head, and I'm done for. I'm just lucky the hot guy who showed up wasn't a Catholic priest, or I'd have ended up a nun. I look terrible in black and white. Washes me out.”

“So that’s the only reason you became a cop?”

“That and I can’t stand the thought of sitting behind a desk and being bored out of my mind. Both my parents were accountants. No, thanks.”

“I thought you were going to tell me it’s because you like the sexy uniform.”

Angi looked down at herself and made a face. “Okay, so that’s a negative. Hence the lipstick. Reminds men that I’m a woman.”

Kelsey knew it made no sense that she and Angi were partners, much less friends. Nobody could figure it out. Hell, Kelsey couldn’t figure it out. The only thing she’d been able to come up with was the fact that Angi was social and she wasn’t. Left to her own devices, Kelsey would stay home and rearrange her silverware drawer or swipe dust bunnies out from beneath her furniture. If she kept to herself long enough, eventually she’d be hoarding chewing gum wrappers and collecting cats.

“So do you want to meet at the usual time tonight?” Angi said.

Kelsey cringed. “Tonight?”

“Uh…yeah. It’s Paul’s divorce day, remember?”

When Kelsey didn’t respond, Angi’s eyes flew open wide. “Tonight, Kelsey! You have to go with me tonight! I know the reason Paul has been putting me off is because he’s been scared shitless of his wife. Tonight he’s finally a free man, so I know he’ll be there. And he won’t be working. He’ll be celebrating. That’s the perfect time for me to move in.”

“Okay, wait,” Kelsey said, holding up her palm. “She was the one who filed for divorce, but he’s scared to step out on her? What’s up with that?”

“She doesn’t want him, but she doesn’t want any other woman to have him. She’s a little unhinged.”

“Angi? Do you really want a guy who’s afraid to piss off his ex-wife? Is there any future there at all?”

“Now that he’s divorced, if he doesn’t grow a pair, I’ll dump him. But before I can dump him, I have to get him. Which means I need to go there tonight and stake out my territory. If I’m not there, Elena will move in on him. She’s such a slut.”

Elena was a hair stylist at Remy & Taylor, which was half a block down the street from Gianelli’s. She had breasts the size of twin basketballs and hair extensions down to her ass. She came to Gianelli’s because she had a thing for Brett, but evidently that line was long, because so far he hadn’t taken her bait. Still, most men had a really hard time pretending she wasn’t in the room, and Paul was no exception. Elena wouldn’t think twice about moving in on a recently divorced man, which made her a formidable opponent. Angi was cute. Elena was a walking, talking sex doll.

“If Paul is that swayed by a woman who’s all flash,” Kelsey said, “I say let him go.”

“No way. I’ve been waiting months for him to be free. Now that I have a green light, I’m not about to throw in the towel.”

“Angi?”

“Yeah?”

“Ever think about settling down and getting married?”

She pondered that for a moment. “Actually, no. I may want the man of my dreams, but my dreams don’t include marrying him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t imagine being stuck with one man for the rest of my life. Recipe for boredom. So back to my original question. Will you be there tonight? If you don’t go with me, I’ll look like a loser sitting by myself. What man wants a loser who goes to bars by herself?”

So what was Kelsey supposed to say to that? Sorry. Can’t. Brett Hollister makes me nervous, so we can never go there again?

The words he’d spoken in the elevator that morning kept circling through her mind. As enticing as they sounded, she knew the truth. He was just yanking her chain, throwing her off balance, doing anything he could to make her want him because she’d walked out on him last night. But thinking about it now, if she didn’t show up tonight, he’d know he had the upper hand. She decided she’d meet Angi, have a drink with her until she hooked up with Paul for some evening festivities, and then leave. And that would be that.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” she said.

Just then, Kelsey heard her radio crackle. Evidently a Hummer had jumped the curb, plowed into a bench, then come to a halt wrapped around a light pole. Because the driver had conveniently disappeared, one of several things might be at play. Either he was way over the limit on alcohol, high as a kite, or the car contained something illegal. If it was the latter, Kelsey hoped that the something was drugs and not a dead body.

“Time to get moving,” Kelsey told Angi. With luck I’ll get shot today and be off the hook.