Lipstick On His Collar. Dawn Atkins
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He reached behind him. “Damn,” he said. “Charlie’s uniform’s gonna need a major overhaul before I give it back. I lost the stupid cap somewhere on the stairs chasing this guy.”
“We’re both a mess,” Miranda said, smiling up at him. “Thanks for not taking me to the hospital.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said, “but I’m sure as hell not going there with my butt hanging out.” He turned and headed down the hall, not even bothering to hold the split seam closed over his great backside.
The nurses’ loss, she thought, feeling a feminine twinge even through her pain. His heavy tread on her wooden floor comforted her.
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