Chapter 1

Jana

My car lurched forward with a loud crunch. I’d been about to take a sip of coffee, only to have it spill all over my blouse. “Dammit!” I muttered to no one. I’d been inching along in Seattle’s morning rush hour traffic and just gotten thumped in the bumper by the car behind me. On top of wondering how bad off my bumper was, I had coffee all over me.

“Great, just great. Exactly how I want to start my day.”

I had a habit of talking to myself, especially when I was annoyed. I was in the far right lane—thank God—and slowly inched over to the side of the busy freeway. Snagging a napkin, I wiped the coffee splashed on my hand and dabbed at my blouse. Just my luck to be wearing a white blouse today. Climbing out, I smoothed my skirt, my eyes catching on the lovely new coffee stain on the side. I watched as the car that had run into me nearly clipped another bumper as the man driving it pulled over onto the shoulder.

He climbed out, slamming the door behind him, and stalking over to me where I waited by the guardrail. “Don’t even try to tell me this was my fault,” he said with a glare.

He wore—I kid you not—a bright yellow, shiny tracksuit.

“How the hell is this my fault?” I asked, throwing a glare right back at him.

“You stopped too fast,” he declared, smoothing his hand over his slick, dark hair and crossing his arms.

Oh fuck that. I was not taking the blame for this. “There’s a rule. If you hit the person in front of you, you were too close. There's no way that was my fault,” I countered.

Tracksuit rolled his eyes. He was so cocky, he took my annoyance to the next level.

“Fine. Let’s call the cops,” he retorted with a smirk.

“Fine, let’s.”

I whipped my phone out and tapped out 9-1-1. I quickly reported our fender bender and then slipped my phone back in my purse before crossing my arms and leaning against my car.

“We’ll just wait.”

Tracksuit rolled his eyes again and leaned against his car. A few minutes later, I could see the lights of a police car approaching through the traffic. The police vehicle pulled over behind our cars. Within seconds, the police officer was climbing out, at which point Tracksuit decided to announce again that I'd been going too slow.

“Officer, she was also looking down at her phone,” he added.

My cheeks got hot, and I pushed my hips off of my car, spinning to glare at him. “I was not looking at my phone you asshole!”

It was at this opportune moment our friendly cop arrived beside us, glancing down at me. I looked up at him and my breath caught in my throat. Oh. My. Wow. I loved a man in uniform. All by itself, a uniform was hot. Throw in this police officer’s dark brown hair, deep blue eyes and a face to make me melt, well, I kinda melted a little right there.

He had sculpted cheekbones, a strong nose, a square jaw, and a sexy shadow of stubble. And his mouth, oh my God, his mouth. He had full, lush lips and a dimple in his chin. Really, where the hell did he come from? They shouldn't make cops like him. It was dangerous. I would do anything he said right now. In fact, he could cuff me and take me away if he wanted.

I stayed quiet. I'd like to say I was strategically quiet, but I was actually speechless. That gave Tracksuit an opening.

“Not my fault. She was looking at her phone and slammed on her brakes,” he announced.

Sexy cop eyed him for a moment and then looked to me. Oh this was just all kinds of bullshit. I got hot inside, probably a combination of the fact I was melting inside over sexy cop and angry with Tracksuit.

I glared at Tracksuit, temporarily forgetting about sexy cop. “I was not staring at my phone, and I did not slam on my brakes. I slowed down because I had to. In case you didn’t notice…” I paused and gestured to the bumper to bumper traffic crawling along the crowded freeway “…it’s rush hour.”

I huffed and brushed my hair off my shoulder. Sexy cop glanced between us.

“Well this should be easy enough to resolve. You mind letting me check your phone?” he asked.

“Huh?” was my brilliant response.

“If I can confirm your phone wasn’t in use, then it’s easy.”

There were laws about not using ‘handheld devices’ when driving, but I hadn’t been using my phone so there was nothing to see. I handed it over without even thinking. Small problem though. As soon as I handed it to him, I realized he would see my screensaver, which was a picture of a penis. That's right. A penis. It was a joke. A friend had a bachelorette party and all the baked goods were naughty. My screensaver had a picture of a penis cake. It was so lifelike, I’d been unable to resist the urge to photograph it and proudly saved it to my phone. It made me laugh every time I looked at it. Great way to stay cheery.

I watched his eyes land on the screen and flick back to me. My cheeks heated. His gorgeous mouth curled at the corner, just the tiniest bit, and I couldn’t help but grin.

His gorgeous blue eyes glinted with mirth, but he didn’t laugh. He finally spoke. “You need to unlock it for me.”

I almost forgot to mention sexy cop had a British accent. Where in God’s name did a British cop come from in Seattle? I didn't know, but he could talk to me all day. It was that awesome. I was downright flustered at this point, my body humming so hard I was almost loopy. I might’ve been embarrassed he’d seen the penis cake, but the little hint of a grin was enough to set me on fire inside. I quickly took my phone back and tapped out my password.

“There. Look at whatever you need,” I announced, remembering to throw a glare in Tracksuit’s direction.

Tracksuit simply rolled his eyes and crossed his arms again.

Sexy cop caught my eyes. “I can look at anything?”

The corner of his mouth hitched up again. My cheeks got even hotter. I shrugged and adjusted my purse on my shoulder. “I have nothing to hide.”

He arched a brow and glanced down at my phone screen. “I’d say not,” he murmured.

I twirled a lock of my hair around my finger, watching as he pulled up my texts and calls before handing my phone back to me. His eyes held the barest hint of a gleam, flicking down to my screen again as the cake penis reappeared when he closed out the list of calls.

“All I needed to see were your calls, texts and activity log. Entirely unnecessary to see anything else,” he said.

The sound of his voice sent a shiver up my spine and heat unfurling in a wave through my body. All I could manage was a nod.

Sexy cop glanced from Tracksuit to me. “There’s no evidence her phone was in use. It’s heavy traffic, and you were behind her, likely following too closely.”

He paused and Tracksuit jumped in.

“That’s bullshit. I know…”

I temporarily forgot my speechless state. Aside from being an obnoxious jerk, Tracksuit sadly reminded me of my last boss. He had the same cocky attitude. My last boss had pretty much ruined my life. Mistake number one: never date your boss. That itself was bad enough, but the worst part was I didn't actually know he was married. How I missed that massively relevant detail, I didn't know. Anyway, in short, it blew up my life, and Tracksuit reminded me of him.

“You fucking asshole! It’s not bullshit. I wasn’t on my phone. You bumped into me. Shut up and deal…”

Sexy cop put his hand on my arm, effectively ending my tirade. Just the feel of his hand on me made me hot all over and snapped me out of my focus on Tracksuit. I glanced over at him. The moment I met his eyes, I discovered I could happily stare at him all day.

“Yes?”

“Entirely unnecessary to argue,” he said, that slightly haughty tone of his sending my belly in a spinning flip.

I scrambled my thoughts together when he arched a brow, making me quite aware I was staring dumbly at him. “Right. So what now? My bumper’s dented,” I said, pointing to the crushed corner of said bumper. I drove a small, bright blue hatchback that had honestly seen better days, but I was rather attached to it. My little car had seen me through some rough years.

Sexy cop’s eyes glanced to my car and back to me. “I’ll write a citation, and you’ll follow up with your insurance company,” he said simply.

All very logical. I nodded, and he let go of my arm. Tracksuit seemed to have decided it wasn’t worth arguing and leaned against his car, staring into traffic.

Sexy cop stepped away and responded to the voice crackling in the radio mounted on his shoulder. In short order, he wrote up a citation while I exchanged insurance information with Tracksuit.

Tracksuit drove away, still throwing glares at me. I ignored him and rounded the back of my car, only then noticing I had a flat tire.

I spun back and almost collided with sexy cop. My mouth went dry when I met his gaze. Sweet hell. He was so damn hot, it wasn’t fair.

Somehow I managed to form words. “I have a flat tire.”

It was a damn miracle I didn’t melt into a puddle at his feet.