Page 8 of Win a Date with a Detective

I smile.

Oh, Detective. You have absolutely no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“As a matter of fact, I’ve already found the perfect place.”

He arches a brow. “Should I be worried?”

“Only if you’re bad at your job.”

TWO

BRONSON

I’ve investigated murders, interviewed dangerous criminals, and spent countless hours examining some of the most disturbing evidence imaginable.

But until tonight, I’ve never been asked to solve a murder while on a date.

A fictional murder, no less.On my night off.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

Rachel looks at me from the passenger seat of my truck as though I’ve just suggested we cancel Christmas.

“Are you kidding? I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

“Most women would probably prefer dinner.”

“We’re getting dinner afterward.”

“Or a movie.”

“Too predictable.”

“Drinks?”

“Bronson.” She places her hand on my forearm. “I won a date with a detective. What did you expect?”

I glance at her hand.

It’s a perfectly innocent gesture. Something she’s done several times since I picked her up twenty minutes ago.

Unfortunately, my body doesn’t seem to understand that.

Every time she touches me, I have to resist the urge to pull her closer.

And don’t even get me started on that dress.

When she opened her front door, I nearly forgot my own name.

I’ve always appreciated a woman with curves, and Rachel has them in all the right places. The dress she’s wearing hugs every inch of her gorgeous body, leaving me with an excellent view of her cleavage.

I’m a trained observer.

I’d be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t appreciate the evidence.

“I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t arrange for me to investigate an actual murder,” I tell her.

She grins. “Don’t tempt me.”