Jump Start (Texas Hotzone 1)

“Says you,” she said, entirely too breathless to appear unaffected.

“That’s right,” he half growled. “Says me.”

“You don’t get a say,” she said. “Not since seven years ago when you left without a look back.” Oh, hell, where had that come from?

His eyes narrowed instantly, his voice brusque. “I looked back every day of the past seven years.”

“I don’t want to hear this.”

His jaw firmed and he started walking toward the house, pulling her with him. Jennifer didn’t argue. He wanted to talk. Fine. They’d talk. Oh, yeah. Fine. Talk, talk, talk. She had plenty to say. Bring it on. Forget seduction. She wanted to yell, and yes, she wanted to throw something at him.

They were almost at the patio door when Sally, a petite brunette and waitress from the bar, appeared in the archway. “The police are here! They want Mark and Marcie!”

Jennifer’s heart stopped. This couldn’t be happening! They’d talked to the neighbors, and preapproved noise. Bobby turned to Jennifer.

She cast Bobby a pleading look. “Let me go. I have to stop the music!”

As if in response, the music stopped, and a blonde, curvy, female cop in uniform, with her hair pinned up, stepped through the sliding glass door, followed by a broad-shouldered, muscular male cop with lots of dark brown hair. The kind a girl runs her fingers through you didn’t often see on a cop. Murmurs and muffled laughter followed, as if everyone was in on the joke but Jennifer.

“Ah, Jen,” Bobby said, tugging her close to his side. “Is this what I think it is?”

“I hope not,” she whispered. “I really, really hope not because Marcie and Mark were adamant they didn’t want—”

Marcie skidded to a halt beside Jennifer, Mark on her heels. “What the heck is going on?”

“I’m looking for the owner of the house,” the female cop said.

Bobby squeezed her hand in understanding of what was to come, as Mark stepped forward. “That would be me,” Mark announced.

The female cop stared at Mark with a hard look and then walked toward him in a completely unsexual way that gave Jennifer hope this wasn’t what she thought it was.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to turn down the volume on this party,” the woman said. And oh boy, she got right up close to him. That wasn’t comforting.

“Did someone complain?” Marcie asked quickly. “Because we talked to the neighbors, and—”

“I’m complaining,” the male cop said, already closing in on Marcie. He stopped almost toe-to-toe with Marcie, towering over her as he added, “You can either turn down the volume or turn up the heat. I’m going to need you to report to the dance floor, ma’am.”

Marcie’s face paled as she blinked up at the cop. “What?” Then without looking at Jennifer, she said, “Jennifer?” A hint of panic laced her voice.

Jennifer got the panic part because she’d promised Marcie no strippers, and she was pretty sure the “cops” were strippers. And as maid of honor, it was Jennifer’s job to fix this.

“There’s been a mistake,” Jennifer interjected and took a step forward, only to have Bobby pull her back, against him, his arm around her shoulders.

“It’s too late,” he said as she opened her mouth to object.

The way he’d anticipated her argument, the familiar way he touched her, the way he shared this experience with her as if he’d never left, shook her to the core.

And then to Jennifer’s horror, the female cop reached up and let her hair free. Bobby chuckled. Jennifer cast him a warning look over her shoulder. She was in charge of this party and responsible for anything that went wrong.

In a blink, the entire situation spiraled to the point of no return. Marcie and Mark were herded to the dance floor and seated in chairs. All the guests huddled around them. Bobby and Jennifer stood behind it all, alone, side by side, but still close enough for a good visual.

“You should run,” Jennifer said, “because Marcie is going to want to blame me, and if you’re nearby, you’ll be guilty by association.” Then, to Jennifer’s shock, Marcie smacked the now mostly naked, male cop on the ass. Jennifer jumped. “Oh, my.”

Bobby laughed. “I don’t think she’s mad, and judging from the way Mark is drooling, I don’t think he’s mad either.”

Jennifer tilted her head and studied Mark. He looked heavy-lidded, definitely not mad. “This is just a little too weird for me,” she said, turning away. “I can’t watch. They’re about to be married, and they’re sharing lap dances. There is something so fundamentally wrong with that.”

“We could go inside and play cops and robbers ourselves,” he offered, wiggling a brow.

“I thought you were all about talking,” she accused. “Not playing.”

He pulled her close. “I told you,” he corrected. “I’m all about you. Any way I can get you.”