Naughty, But Nice. Jill Shalvis

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Cassie said, slowly smiling as her and Tag’s gazes locked. “It’s Sheriff Taggart.”

      “Is that old fart still sheriff?”

      “No, Tag here is Richard’s son.” When her gaze ran down the front of him, slowly, across his broad shoulders and what looked like a very promising chest and flat belly, over his trousers, which lovingly cupped powerful thighs and everything in between, then back up again, he lifted a daring brow, then gave her the same slow perusal.

      Good, she thought in triumph. He was just a man after all, a man run by the equipment between his legs. A man who’d possibly forget to write that ticket due to the fact her little yellow sundress not only matched the car she’d bought herself last year but also accented the body she’d been well paid for over the years.

      “Cassie,” Kate said into her ear. “I worry about you there, all alone.”

      “I’m used to being alone.” Funny how that worked. She was surrounded by people all day long and yet it was true. She was utterly alone.

      “I mean because of your stalker.”

      Cassie’s stomach tightened with the fear she pretended not to feel and glanced at Tag, who was unabashedly eavesdropping. “I’m safe enough here.” She hoped.

      “The guy slashed all your tires in the hopes of leaving you stranded, remember?”

      “I do.”

      “And then he ruined two photo shoots—”

      “I remember all of it, Kate.”

      “I’m sorry, of course you do. Okay, subject change. You going to be okay facing what Flo left you?”

      That had been a shocker. That her mother had actually come out on the winning side after all, after always being considered the town joke. Seems the men in her life had come through, over the years gifting her a prime piece of real estate downtown, an amazing turn-of-the-century house on Lilac Hill overlooking town, and supposedly some other equally valuable things she needed Cassie to take care of. Cassie still couldn’t believe it.

      “Cassie?”

      “I’m okay, Mom,” she said, and accomplished what she’d wanted. Kate laughed.

      “Call me back.”

      “Oh, I will.” She clicked off and tossed the phone into the back seat. Then looked at Tag. “So…”

      Tag looked right back. “What do you mean, you’re safe enough here?”

      “It’s considered rude to eavesdrop.”

      “Talk to me, Cassie.”

      Oh, right. Terrified as she might be in the deep dark of night, she’d rather face the boogeyman bare-ass naked before asking this man for help. “If I do, can we skip the ticket?”

      Now he laughed and, good Lord, she hoped that wasn’t a weapon he used often because just the sound could make a grown woman quiver with delight. She was fighting doing just that—uniform or not—when he flipped open the ticket book and started writing.

      2

      TAG ACTUALLY MANAGED a night of uninterrupted sleep, mostly due to the fact that he’d turned off the ringer on his phone and had shoved his pager beneath the couch pillows.

      Not being on call did wonders for his mental health. What hadn’t done wonders for that same mental health had been his dreams.

      X-rated dreams about Pleasantville’s latest visitor. He doubted they’d sprung from the photographs in the lingerie catalog he’d received in the mail and had perused over dinner. Photographs that showed every perfect inch of the body that belonged to one Cassie Tremaine Montgomery.

      Lord, she was stacked. All long, tanned…lush. With the wild mane of sun-kissed blond hair and come-hither mouth…man, she was sure built like a goddess.

      A tempting goddess, for certain. But luckily, not his type. A woman like Cassie was trouble, and on top of that trouble, he imagined she’d be high maintenance.

      Tag was done with high maintenance, done with people needing him to take care of every little thing. The next time he let a woman into his life—and there would be a next time—it was going to be for keeps. She was going to be a sweet, quiet little thing who lived for him.

      Yeah. He was going to be the high maintenance one for a change.

      But as he showered, it wasn’t the quiet little woman that came into his mind. It was Cassie. As in his dream, her cynically lit eyes were hot with passion, her mouth wet from kissing him, and her amazing body wrapped around his. Not only wrapped, but soft and pliant and so ready for him she would explode when he plunged into her.

      Now there was an image to make a shower nice and steamy and his body hard and achy. Nothing he couldn’t take care of by himself. But that wasn’t what he was looking for.

      Once the hot water turned cold, Tag got out, slipped on his uniform pants, and reluctantly put Cassie out of his mind. Even more reluctantly, he pulled his pager from beneath the couch cushions.

      His father had called—again. He’d probably heard about the tri-county arrest, the one in which it had taken the authorities—including Tag—three days to apprehend the suspect. Yeah, ex-sheriff Richard Taggart probably wanted to make sure Tag knew he would have done it in one day.

      Well, hell. So he wasn’t like his father. So he didn’t believe he had to bully the town into obeying the law. Hallelujah. But it’d be nice if just once, just one damn time, his father could acknowledge Tag’s success.

      Tag ran a hand through his wet hair and bit back a sigh as he strode through his very quiet house to the kitchen, where he poured himself a bowl of cereal.

      “Note to self,” he said to no one in particular. “The little wife will make me a hot breakfast every morning.”

      Soon as he found her.

      The phone rang. Not surprisingly, it was Annie.

      “Hey, boss, get your sweet ass up. We’re short-staffed. Turns out Tim didn’t have food poisoning, it was the flu, and half the staff is out.”

      “Any bright yellow Porsches out there speeding this morning?” he asked.

      “Just one.”

      And he was just in the mood for it, too. He slipped into his uniform shirt, grabbed his badge and hit the road.

      He found her immediately, cruising downtown, rolling through a four-way stop where he’d cleaned up more accidents than he liked to remember. Pulling her over, he strode up to the driver’s side of her car and had to laugh at the look of fury on her beautiful face.

      “Let me guess,” Cassie said through her teeth. “You haven’t met your ticket quota yet for the week.”

      “Careful, or I’ll think you like me.” He grinned when she snarled. “Did I mention yesterday that the speed limit is enforced here? As well as the full

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