Taming Johnny (2 page)

“Nigel doesn’t count. Writing from a different continent does
not
count.”

Sally hadn’t answered, and that was okay, because Emma knew where she stood anyway. Sally was on the ex-boyfriend’s side. And that was all water under the bridge. Ancient history. Apparently, Sally thought Big Wheel Chris was the next best thing to a long distance relationship. But that hadn’t worked out so well either.

That had been Saturday morning. Now, two days later, Emma’s mood was no better. After a quick breakfast of a burned bagel and orange juice, she grabbed her purse and balanced her coffee in one hand while trying to find her keys with the other.

Fifteen minutes later, she was turning into the parking lot of the police department attempting to put Friday night behind her. After all, it was a brand new week, right? Why should she let the lieutenant spoil another one? Maybe Sally was right. This thing for Johnny Street was going nowhere. Better to end it now, with a little bit of her dignity still intact.

Pulling into the parking spot closest to the back door, she glanced down to turn off the radio. When she looked up, she had to slam on her brakes to avoid running right into the lieutenant, who was carrying a bag of shredded paper under one arm.

Emma’s coffee, which had been sitting on the passenger’s seat, flew into the dashboard and went everywhere. Primarily all over the crotch of her brand new, white skinny jeans.

“
Crap!
”

No sooner had she gotten her door open, than he descended.

“Are you trying to kill me, Beaumont?”

Emma swiped at the coffee splatters, managing to smear them in the process. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“Distracted by a text from your boyfriend or something? We give tickets for that kind of thing.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend. I—”

“You what, Beaumont?” His East Texas drawl was getting thicker. He was ticked.

She glared at him. Condescending. Rude. Cocky. The list could go on and on. “No, I wasn’t distracted by a text message. But you never let me finish a sentence.” And what was with calling her Beaumont all the time, anyway? Did the guy have something against first names? This wasn’t boot camp.

“Distracted is distracted in my book. Doesn’t matter by what.”

She grabbed her purse, got out of the car, and slammed the door. He’d already turned to go when she mumbled a few words under her breath.

He whipped around. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“What’d you say?”

Emma’s face began to burn. Asshole or not, he was still her boss.

“I said you’re being grouchy, that’s all.”

“
Grouchy?
”

Now he was being sarcastic. She didn’t know what was worse, sarcasm or straight up asshole.

She raised her chin and kept it there. Even when he took another step toward her. Then another. He’d been in the sun this weekend, she could tell. He was tan, healthy looking. But then again, he always looked healthy. He had a surfer’s physique, all lean muscle and bronzed skin.

“Why would you possibly think I’m grouchy, Beaumont?”

“Emma.”

“Why, Beaumont?”

She gritted her teeth.
Whatever.

“You almost ran me over, and now you’re giving me lip about it?”

Another step. Then another. Now he was standing right in front of her. And he smelled really, really good.

She swallowed, trying to remember her resolve from five minutes ago.
Pay attention to how he’s acting, Emma. He may be cute, but that scowl certainly isn’t.

He was so close. A few golden hairs peeked over the top of his uniform shirt where it was open at the neck. Crinkles radiated from the corners of his eyes, which were fringed with fine blond lashes, and a small crescent-shaped scar curved along the corner of the right one. She guessed he was probably mid-thirties, although, aside from the chief, no one at the department knew for sure. He was about ten years older than her. But not much taller.

She looked at him now, trying to summon some bitchiness of her own.
Where do you get off, Lieutenant? Have a corn cob up the bum? Need to get laid, do we?
That last thought made her swallow nervously.

Almost saying nothing at all, she changed her mind when he started to smirk.

“What did I ever do to you?” Liking the way that felt, she unwisely plowed on. “You act like you’ve been personally screwed over by each and every one of us.”

“Watch it.”

The smirk was gone. He was getting mad. And she didn’t care. For some reason, she couldn’t shut her mouth. Guess that’s what twelve months of pent-up sexual frustration did to a girl.

“Why are you so nasty all the time, anyway?”

“You’re pushing it, Beaumont.”

“And stop calling me Beaumont.”

“I know your type,” he said. “You prance around here like a little girl who’s used to getting her way all the time. Used to being put up on some kind of unrealistic pedestal. Am I right?”

“No!” The summer wind had kicked up and was blowing Emma’s hair all over the place, making it stick to her new
Bahama Mama
lip gloss.

“There’s probably a reason you work in an office full of men. You like that pedestal thing?”

“Pedestal?” She laughed bitterly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” And she didn’t. He couldn’t be further from the truth.

Emma took an unsteady step back, acutely aware that this wasn’t a conversation she should be having with her boss. And even more so, it was a stupid place to be having it. Someone could walk out the back door any minute.

Lieutenant Street didn’t seem fazed. He was still clutching the bag of shredded paper under his arm, which looked close to popping.

“Oh, yes you do. What you’d really like is if I mooned over you just like that dopey kid you were with the other night.”

“He’s not a dope!” Well, he actually kind of was, but the lieutenant didn’t have to know that.

“
You
,” he said, so close that she could have leaned forward and touched her lips to his if she’d wanted, “are an employee, and that’s how I’m going to treat you. Don’t expect anything special just because you’re good looking.”

Her jaw went slack. He turned to go, stalking toward the dumpster with the bag under his arm.

Everything Johnny Street just said flew right out the window along with the warm, June breeze. All except the part where he’d said she was good looking.

Chapter 3

Johnny stayed pissed the rest of the day. He avoided going up to the front office and when he almost ran into a file laden Beaumont coming around the corner of the squad room, he didn’t bother saying ‘excuse me’. He just gave her a hard look and went around.

She had a lot of goddamn nerve, talking to him like that. Honestly, he couldn’t remember the last guy who’d had the balls to pop off to him, much less a police clerk who could easily have been his little sister. By a lot. He’d grown up in one of the toughest neighborhoods in Arlington, spent eleven hard core years in the Army, and had been a cop for five. And no one ever talked to him like that. At least no one who’d wanted to keep a full set of teeth.

Yet, there was Emma Beaumont, throwing around the one-liners like they were going out of style. He should have disciplined her; should have marched her ass right into his office and written her up. He’d had plenty of reason to. Almost running him over for one. Giving him attitude for another. Why he hadn’t was beyond him. And if he thought about it too long, it would piss him off even more.

So he went through the rest of the day in one of his moods. And if anyone wondered about it, they’d been smart enough not to ask.

Why are you so nasty all the time?
Her voice kept ringing in his head, making him wish to God he was working graveyard so he wouldn’t have to deal with co-workers, much less her.

Why?
Johnny thought as he slammed his locker door and grabbed his keys at the end of the day.
I have my reasons.

When he turned and almost knocked over a nervous rookie who was making his way to the men’s room, Johnny gritted his teeth. “Out of my way,” he said, and pushed past.

* * * *

Emma was having a hard time wiping the smile off her face. All week long it stayed there, plastered to her lips and even reaching her eyes, so that when she looked at her reflection in the mornings, she appeared to have just swallowed a big, fat happy pill.

In a way, she had. Johnny Street, strikingly handsome, albeit perpetually grumpy, Lieutenant Johnny Street, had said she was
good looking
. And that was a first. He’d never said anything remotely nice before. In fact, up until now, the nicest thing he’d ever said was that he liked her shoes because they didn’t make any noise on the waxed PD floors. She had stared at him in amazement that day, shocked he’d noticed anything at all about her. But this…this was different.

Emma had never considered herself pretty. She’d always taken good care of herself and had chosen nice, fashionable clothes on the rare occasions she went shopping with Sally. But she was nothing special to behold. Her weight was an endless source of frustration. No matter how much she worked out—okay, so she didn’t work out all that much—those twenty pounds wouldn’t budge. Sally would always stand behind her in the dressing room on those shopping trips, making exaggerated whistling sounds, and Emma would roll her eyes.

“You’re a real woman, Em. Men like curves. You’re buxom.”

“I’m chubby.”

“You’re voluptuous.”

“Uh-huh.”

But after Monday, Emma had to admit, she felt more attractive than she had in years.

By the time she walked in the office Friday morning, she was feeling downright pretty. She’d chosen trim, brown slacks and a sheer, pink blouse which brought out her eyes. Delicate silver hoops graced her earlobes, and she’d even curled her hair so it hung in silky waves all the way down her back. Yup. Today would be the day the lieutenant would let down his prickly guard, back her right up against the coffee pot, and kiss her cross-eyed.

Smiling, she unlocked the records room so Sally wouldn’t have to. She indulged in so many Johnny fantasies, she could barely keep them all straight. But she liked that one a lot.

“Wow.”

Emma turned at the sound of her best friend’s voice.

“You look…amazing, Em. Really. Sure you’re here to work?” Sally winked. “Shouldn’t you be out modeling something?”

Grinning, Emma ran a hand over her bottom. “Too much?”

“No way. Just right. I’ve been trying to get you to wear pink forever. I love it.”

They both stopped short at the clipped footsteps coming up the hall.

“Sally!” the lieutenant barked. “I needed the Reese file last night before you left. Where is it?”

Sally stepped away from the records room, giving Emma a look. “Oh, sorry, Lieutenant,” she said over her shoulder. “I think Emma’s got it in her stack. She’ll bring it to you.”

Before she could argue, Sally had already turned and was heading for her desk.

Running a nervous hand through her hair, Emma plucked out the Reese file and clutched it to her chest.
He’s just a guy underneath that gruff exterior. And he thinks you’re good looking, remember? Work it, Emma.

Walking carefully down the hall in her adorable new ballet slippers, which also made little to no noise on the waxed PD floor, Emma stopped in front of the lieutenant’s office and knocked on the open door.

“Yeah.”

“I have the Reese file.”

“Just put it in my in-box, Beaumont.”

Emma set it where she was told, eyeing the top of his blond head. He was bent over some paperwork and didn’t bother looking up.

She cleared her throat. “Will there be anything else?”

“Thank you. No.”

“I can file that if you want,” she said, pointing to a stack of evidence cards balanced on his desk. Still, he didn’t look up.

“I need to go through them again. I’ll bring them up later.”

“Oh. Okay. Sure there’s nothing else I can do?”

Obviously annoyed, he glanced up, his sharp eyes focused on hers. “Bucking for a raise, Beaumont? I said I’m fine.”

Emma’s face flushed hot. So much for noticing her outfit.
What the hell?
She lifted her chin. “Fine. I was just asking.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and marched out the door.

* * * *

The rest of that afternoon, Emma ignored Sally’s “I told you so’s” as best she could. The lieutenant stayed mostly in his office, coming out only to retrieve a few cups of coffee from the break room. When he walked by her desk, Emma didn’t look up, instead she studied her computer as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. She felt foolish, juvenile. But most of all, she was hurt. If this was what having a thing for your boss felt like, she could do without it.

By the time the clock above the big filing cabinet said 4:45, she had deflated hair and a pounding headache. Sally, who had a dentist appointment, gave her a quick hug on her way out. “Call me tomorrow, okay?”

“I will.”

The PD was mostly deserted. There were a couple of duty officers and a code enforcement guy in the back, but the chief had gone home at noon and so had a few other people. No doubt getting a jump on the summer weekend ahead. Emma, however, planned to spend it curled up with a good book and reevaluating her taste in men. Sally would probably try and get her to go out, but she had zero interest in going anywhere at the moment.

The lieutenant was still in his office, shuffling papers and slamming the occasional file cabinet drawer. She grabbed her purse and started to turn off the computer. Only five more minutes and she was out of there.

Just as her curser was hovering over
log off
, a car pulled up. Sighing, she looked at the clock. 4:59. Never failed.

She walked up to the front counter and waited patiently for whoever it was to make their appearance on the other side of the glass. Probably someone wanting to pay a fine or get their car out of impound before the weekend.

The bell above the door dinged, and around the corner walked one of the meanest looking men Emma had ever seen. He was completely bald, and the fluorescent light from the lobby shone off his meaty head. He wore a white tank top and his muscled arms were covered in greenish tattoos. Not just tattoos, but prison tattoos. Emma had worked at the PD long enough to know the difference.