Page 19 of Protect and Serve

If he’d had any.

“How long have you been watching?” he called across the room.

She checked the video length. “Um… Three minutes and twenty-nine seconds.”

His eyes narrowed on her phone. “You didn’t record this.”

She glanced at Lisa. “Was that a question or a statement?”

“Sounded like a statement to me.”

“Oh, good.” She sent Charlie a brilliant grin.

And then she bolted from the room, because he’d bounded from the stage, to a chorus of laughter and howls, and barreled toward her. Because of her razor-sharp instincts and fleet feet, she made it to her office before he caught her and even had the opportunity to hide her phone in the fake potted plant on the windowsill.

She whirled around as he barged through the door. It slammed against the wall at his entrance and he stood there, tall, looming and intimidating. Staring at her. Breathing.

Yum.

“Give me that phone,” he clipped. He tried to be all feral and badass and shit, but she could see laughter hovering in his eyes. It was a good look on him.

Her smile was snarky. “Don’t you knock?”

He turned to the door—slammed there against the wall—and gave it three deliberate raps. “Where’s your phone?”

She blinked and then, in an afterthought, batted her lashes. Hell, it worked for Porsche. “Phone? Why, good sir.” Yeah, her Southern drawl was pretty good. “I have no earthly idea to what y’all refer.”

“Claire.” A growl. Just that. It sent something hot and needy slithering through her veins. He felt it too. As their gazes clashed, it sizzled between them. Memories of that kiss, of his taste, his heat, scorched her.

“Close the door, Charlie,” she said in a whisper. His eyes narrowed. His nostrils flared. He glanced out into the hall and then kicked the door shut with his foot.

He prowled across the room until he was so close she could smell the body oil on his skin. “You’re not showing anyone that video,” he said. His voice was gruff and commanding.

She cocked her head to the side. “And what if I do?”

He took her by the shoulders and yanked her against him. She nearly slid off. “Eww. You’re sticky.” She poked his pec. “Is that glitter?”

“Stop it. Do you have any idea how humiliating this is?”

She was hardly sympathetic. “Then why did you do it?”

“Cody made me.”

He sounded so much like a little boy with that pout, she threw back her head and laughed. “Right. You, buster”—another jab—“lost a bet.”

His ears went pink. “Come on, Claire. I have to think of my reputation as the sheriff. Who’s going to take me seriously if they’ve seen me shaking it on the internet? Promise me you won’t share it.”

She surveyed him for a long moment, so long he started to shift restlessly. “What’s in it for me?”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

She crossed her arms and tapped her lips. “Hmm. Let me see. What do I want?”

“Well?”

She set her palm on his chest—ignoring the fact that it was slick as snot—and scudded it up to his neck. “A kiss?”

He nearly collapsed. “A kiss? That’s it?”