Page 22 of Hot to Trot

"Well, I guess it's too bad I had to destroy your little sex-toy handcuffs in the arrest. You could have checked to see if they would have worked."

"On Harvey Primm?"

On me.

He shifted in his seat to relieve the stirring of desire making itself known in his tight motorcycle pants. Why he reacted so strongly to her stymied him. Well, no, it didn't. Scarlet Rose was emphatically the kind of girl who roused his libido. He merely pretended to be surprised by the need building low in his pelvis. "Somehow I don't see Primm being into kinky things."

"Oh, don't let him fool you. It's always the quiet, straitlaced guys who are the sickest," she said, tracing a finger down the squeaky clean window. She tilted her head and met his gaze in the mirror. She arched an eyebrow. "Right?"

"I wouldn't know. I'm into missionary position exclusively."

Scarlet seemed to choke on a laugh. “Well, that’s sad.”

“Sorry. I shouldn’t say things like," he muttered.

“Why not? Sometimes it feels good to be bad." He turned onto Tucker Street just off the town square. The station squatted like a gnome next to the fire station. Scarlet must have spotted the brick building, for she grew still and quiet. Nothing like an ensuing incarceration to chase away sunshine. The gravity of the situation struck him.

Damn.

Shewasa prisoner.

He'd forgotten himself. He wished he could reach out and catch the flirty words he'd exchanged with her and takethem back. Thank God there wasn't a camera and recording equipment. He didn’t need his department seeing his lack of professionalism. He swung into his designated spot, precisely even between the freshly painted yellow lines. It was small pleasure, but he loved all things equal. All things balanced.

He climbed from the car and threw a cautionary wave at the news vans parking at the curb. Arresting the up-and-coming star of a Thursday-night headliner was big news. No doubt the tweets or whatever they did nowadays were blowing up on the internet. He'd have more reporters on the station's doorstep by the end of the day. Of that, he was certain.

He opened the back door. Scarlet blinked up at him before extending one long white arm.

He looked at her hand and then at her. She sighed. Then she wiggled her fingers.

Where did she think she was? The Golden Globes? This wasn't the red carpet. This was a booking.

He ignored her hand. "Out."

She glanced at him. "For the cameras?"

"No."

"Oh, come on. It'll make good copy and you'll look debonair."

He reached into the car, grabbed her upper arm, and jerked her from the depths of the cruiser.

"Ow! Watch it. I bruise easily."

"Then be glad I didn't make you wear the cuffs," he muttered, pulling her to her feet. He'd placed his hand on her head to make sure she didn't collide with the door frame. He'd done nothing less than what was expected.

"Police brutality," she trilled.

He couldn't tell if she was serious or joking. He hoped the latter. He didn't need the hassle of having to explain himself to a jury.

"Come on. Let's get inside before the reporters swarm you again."

"I don't mind," Scarlet said, tossing her ponytail and a smile toward the cameras that moved their way. She raised her hand and gave a cheerful wave. "It's actually perfect. When the free world hears about Harvey Primm and my heroics in trying to keep the book on the shelf, there will be a public outcry. It helps my cause."

He didn't smile. Her words reminded him that he had no business engaging in fantasies about a woman like her. She was trouble. She was self-involved if not fearless for her cause. And she would rip him to shreds if he gave her the slightest opening. In fact, he wondered about her motivations. Had Scarlet used the protest as a way to gain attention for herself? To garner the spotlight? Help her own career?

He wouldn't put it past the star of a glorified soap opera, though he hated to have those thoughts about her. After all, he didn’t know her beyond her antics. Not really.

He steered her toward the brick building. Roz met them, swinging the tinted door open wide so they could escape the heat and the infernal cameras.

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