Capturing the Cop. Michele Dunaway

yet,” Garrett admitted. “I’m supposed to call her.”

      “Do you have her phone number?” This question came from Ben. “I’d like some verification. Not that I don’t trust you, but…”

      “I don’t trust him,” Pete said. “We all know what happens to men who get cornered. Well? Do you have her number, Garrett?”

      “Of course I do.” Garrett reached into his wallet and pulled out the piece of paper. He handed it to Pete. “Home and cell,” he said. “Her name’s Olivia.”

      The men passed the paper around. Ben peered at it longest, then held it up. “This handwriting might be female.”

      “It is,” Garrett said.

      He reached for the slip, but Ben stepped back. Then Ben picked up the lounge phone and, before Garrett could stop him, dialed. He held out the receiver to the still-seated Garrett.

      “It’s ringing,” Ben said.

      SHE WAS LATE. Olivia drummed her fingers against the leather steering wheel of her Saab convertible. The clock on the dash read 9:05 a.m. Her two-hour weekly workout with her personal trainer had gone over, and she was running a half hour behind. She pulled up at a red light and frowned as a strange noise mingled with the music on her radio.

      Her cell phone, resting in the cup holder, was ringing. None of her friends or family ever called her this early. Had they panicked at work already because she was always extremely punctual?

      But when she picked up the phone, she didn’t recognize the 314 area code glowing on the caller ID display. She pressed talk. “Hello?”

      “Is this Olivia?”

      The deep baritone voice washing over her sounded oddly familiar, and she worked to place it. “Yes.”

      There was a brief pause before the sexy voice spoke again. “Hi, Olivia, this is Garrett Krause. We met yesterday afternoon at the Monitor classifieds office. Remember?”

      Oh, she remembered, all right! Butterflies took flight in Olivia’s stomach, and she ignored the car horn blaring behind her. A bad girl didn’t care that she was late for work, or that the stoplight telling her to go had turned green. A bad girl cared that the man who’d haunted her dreams last night was actually calling. Olivia had been betting he wouldn’t phone, and mentally preparing herself not to be too disappointed. But he had—and the next day, too!

      “Garrett, hold on,” she said as she dug for the hands-free earpiece she had buried in her purse. She managed to find it and attach the cord to the phone at the precise moment the stoplight turned yellow. She stepped on the gas and waved her apologies to the irritated driver behind her, who was now sitting through another red light.

      “Uh, hi,” Olivia said, adjusting the thick black cord as she pulled into the lane for the Forest Park Express-way.

      His voice was warm and friendly. “Hi, yourself. How are you this morning?”

      “Fine.” Inwardly she cringed at the lame answer. Come on, inner, bad girl. Don’t desert me now.

      Another car honked at her, so Olivia put on her blinker and made a quick turn into a Washington University parking lot. Her concentration on driving shot, she idled her car across two spaces. Conversing while parked was safer. The convertible top was down, and a breeze played with the ends of her hair.

      “I’m fine, too, even better now that I’m talking to you,” he said. Then he gave a little laugh, as if deliberately teasing her. There were murmurs in the background, as though a television was on. “So where are you?” he asked.

      “Headed to work,” Olivia admitted. “I’m running late.”

      Although, with him on the phone, she sure didn’t care when she arrived at the office. With him, she sought to be bad. Very bad. She turned off the radio. The only sounds now were the hum of the engine and the occasional passing car.

      “I don’t want to make you late.” His bedroom voice sent a shiver through her.

      Heck, she’d skip work if he asked her to. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, putting a pout in her voice. Talking like a seductress was easier when you couldn’t see the other person’s face. “You told me you work erratic shifts. If you’re calling now, this must be a perfect time to talk.”

      “So are you perfect?”

      Far from it, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. This man would be her one night, her one digression into forbidden territory. One taste—no more. Giddy with the moment, Olivia let her inner bad girl rule. “I’m perfect in some areas,” she said, congratulating herself on how teasing her voice sounded as she answered his question.

      “So then tell me one thing,” he asked. “How come you’re still single? Shouldn’t a girl like you have been snatched up by now?”

      Olivia’s stomach tightened. Though her previous answer had been heavy with innuendo, her words hadn’t been a lie. As for her string of failed relationships, she didn’t ever intend to tell him the full truth about those. But she hadn’t been raised to lie. “I’m still single because I don’t settle,” Olivia replied, this time making her voice a tad provocative.

      She heard his chuckle. “I see.”

      “Uh-huh,” Olivia said. Even though he couldn’t see her, she twirled a piece of her hair coquettishly so that her mood would flow through the phone. “And just so you know, I don’t proposition just anyone, either.” That was for certain. She’d never propositioned anyone before.

      His tone turned serious. “Then I’m honored. So shall we set up our date? I’d like to continue this intriguing conversation in person. Phones just don’t work for me. You can’t see the person.”

      Which in this case had been a good idea, Olivia thought. When it came to normal phone conversations with men, she was terrible. Heck, she was terrible with men, period. Her longest relationship had lasted fourteen months, her two engagements each less than that. Garrett Krause wasn’t her league. But she only needed one night….

      “Let’s definitely get this date on the calendar. I’d like to see you again.”

      “The sooner the better,” Garrett said, his sexy tone back.

      Olivia’s forehead creased, but she reached for her day planner. This bad-girl stuff was new to her. Did all men respond this eagerly? She wasn’t sure if she liked it. She pushed her discomfort aside. “I’m ready with my planner now.”

      “You have a planner?” His voice held surprise. Then he said, “Great. Have you ever been to Melanie’s?”

      “Melanie’s?” She racked her brain but drew a blank. “I’m sorry. I’ve never even heard of it. I take it it’s good?”

      “Despite being just a hole in the wall, Melanie’s has some of the best seafood on the South Side. It’s on Grand, south of 44, past Tower Grove Park. How about we meet there? Say, Thursday night at six? That’s only two nights from now.”

      Olivia wrote the information in her planner. She circled July twenty-seventh. She couldn’t believe that July was almost over. Age thirty-one was getting ever closer. “I’m sure I can find it.”

      “You can’t miss it. The name is on the awning.”

      She decided she liked his voice. “Melanie’s at six,” she confirmed.

      “It was good talking to you, Olivia. Until Thursday, bye.”

      And with that, he hung up. Olivia hit the red end button on her cell phone and surveyed the call timer. Less than three minutes. But it didn’t matter that she’d never really held a phone conversation with a man for more than ten unless they’d been fighting. What mattered was that she had a date with the sexiest man she’d seen in a long time. “Sorry Sara,” Olivia said aloud, as if speaking to her pious stepmother. “But a girl’s gotta