by Taylor Lee
Knowing that all of her colleagues were watching their standoff, Viviana was furious. But seeing his emerald-hard eyes and rigid jaw, she didn’t dare refuse. Instead she gave an exaggerated sigh, dropped her pile of folders noisily on her desk, and sauntered across the room toward his office. Knowing that her running shorts emphasized her tight ass, she added a little swagger to her walk, deciding that she may as well give her randy colleagues an eyeful while she was at it.
Hearing Jax close the door behind her, she waited until he rounded his desk. Seeing his stern expression, Viviana refused to cower. She forced herself to meet his gaze, then tossed her head. “What do you want?”
He raised a brow at her open antagonism, then said quietly, “Before we discuss what I want and intend to have, please take a seat.”
When she raised her chin and started to shake her head no, he said, “Now, Sergeant Moreau. Sit down.”
While infuriating her, his sharp tone didn’t allow her to disobey. With an exaggerated sigh, she sank onto the chair in front of him and glared at the floor.
Jax let the silence fill the room for a moment, then forced himself to speak quietly, determined not to betray the fury he was feeling. “You left before I gave the squad members my orders for the day.”
She sniffed and assumed a bored expression. When she didn’t respond, he said, “In that meeting, I indicated that I expect a detailed report from each of you regarding the assignments you are working on. I want that report on my desk each morning before 9:00 a.m.” At her frown, he narrowed his gaze and persisted. “Since I have you here, we can cut to the chase. What are you working on, Sergeant, that required you to leave the squad room as I was about to speak?”
Viviana hesitated, making an obvious effort to speak calmly, then shrugged and said, “Nothing.” She added with a tilt of her chin, “Nothing that concerns you.”
He held her gaze, daring her to look away. “Everything you do concerns me, Viviana.”
She bristled. “Don’t you mean every work-related thing I do concerns you, Commander?”
He smiled and said, “I will accept that qualification. To repeat, Sergeant, what are you working on?”
“None of your business.”
Again, Jax let the heavy silence stand, gratified that she had to suck in a deep breath. He thought he saw a glimmer of apprehension shade her luminous eyes, then disappear as quickly as it came.
He held her gaze, then said quietly, “Ah, but it is. Have a full report on my desk before 9:00 a.m. tomorrow morning. Do you understand?”
Not answering his question, she pressed him. “What if I’m undercover?” When he waved his hand dismissively, she said, “I don’t like to share what I’m working on until I’m sure where it is going.”
“That may have been how you worked in the past. It isn’t now.”
Her voice rose, betraying her anger. “What if I need to keep a CI’s information confidential?”
He shrugged. “I don’t care if you have concrete information about the second coming of Christ and need to check it out. Before you do anything, and I do mean anything, Sergeant, you will clear it with me.” When she didn’t answer, only glared at him, he said quietly, certain that even she heard the dangerous undercurrent in his voice, “Do you understand, Sergeant?” When she still didn’t answer, he rose to his feet and moved to the side of his desk mere feet away from her. He repeated, “I asked you a question, Sergeant Moreau. Please answer me. Do you understand?”
When he was about to yank her out of her chair and do God-knows-what to her, she bit down hard on her lip, then glared up at him and said, “Yes, I understand.”
He strode back to his chair and sank into it. Pinning her with a hard gaze, he said, “Good, I’m glad that you do.” He waited for a moment, then said, “You may go, Sergeant.”
She rose quickly to her feet and moved for the door. Before she could open it, he said, “One more thing, Sergeant. I presume you were invited to the mayor’s party tonight.”
She frowned. “What if I was?”
“I would like you to attend, along with the rest of my senior officers.”
She reached for the doorknob with one hand and said over her shoulder, “I can’t. I have other plans.”
He rose again and said softly as he moved toward her, “Change them.”
Her chin flew up in the air, and her eyes flashed dangerously. “Too bad, Commander. I don’t do parties with assholes.”
Jax chuckled. “We both know that isn’t true. In fact, as I recall, you shine at parties with assholes.”
Clearly shaken by his reference to their time in Belize, she assumed a casual air and said, “Sorry, but I don’t have anything to wear.”
He was next to her in seconds and pulled her up close to him. At her startled gasp, he murmured, “Look in your closet, Sergeant. See if you can find a gold lamé gown, and when you do, wear it. It will be wonderfully inappropriate for tonight.”
Clearly furious at his casual reference to their previous rendezvous, she tried to shove away from him, but he refused to let her go. Still holding her arm, he forced her to meet his gaze. “You can wear whatever you wish, Viviana, but be there tonight.”
Her eyes flared and she started to speak, but he pressed his finger against her quivering lips. Pulling her up next to him again, he allowed his eyes to drift carelessly over her body. “While we are discussing your wardrobe, Sergeant Moreau, don’t come into this office again in running clothes. When you are here, you are to wear an appropriate uniform or dress clothes.”
Clearly stunned at his rebuke, Viviana twisted away from him and glared up at him, visible fury cascading off her in sheets. “What are you going to do, Commander, if I choose to stop here on my way to the gym? Strip me?”
Jax leaned back against the wall and shot her a sly smile. “That’s an easy question to answer, Sergeant. And yes, I’ll have to ask you to remove your inappropriate clothes.”
She stood for a moment, staring at him, then turned and ran through the doorway, slamming the door behind her. Jax closed his eyes, knowing that the reverberations were likely heard all the way to the floor beneath them.
Chapter 4
Viviana stared at her reflection in the mirror and laughed aloud. The ugly tent dress she’d bought for some forgotten operation was so out of character compared to the usual outfits she wore, it was funny. She’d spent the late afternoon and evening confirming that she absolutely would not attend the mayor’s party. Stoked by healthy shots of Glenmorangie, she’d convinced herself that she wasn’t that self-destructive. Why would she go? Why should she? Go to a fancy party with all the bigwigs in their city and watch them drool over the handsome new commander? Absolutely not. Wasn’t going to happen.
Several hours into her solitary anger party, she began to weaken. It wasn’t hard to know why. Allowing herself to remember the hideous meeting she’d had with her nemesis, she began to rethink her strategy. The memory of him ordering her into his office—again in front of an audience of her agog peers—stung. God, why the fuck had she returned to the precinct? Seriously, what was wrong with her? For some reason she’d decided that since she wasn’t working, she’d hit the running trails and burn off some of the negative energy that was about to take her down. But why, oh why, had she found it necessary to stop at the precinct? Even she knew that she didn’t need the folders she’d convinced herself she had to have if she was going to work out of her home. And if she really did need the files, she could have had Mick O’Reilly or Madge Peterson bring them to her.
But no, true to form, she’d decided to stop at the precinct. She’d convinced herself that no one, including Commander Jaxton Hughes, was going to tell her what she could or could not do. In fact, she’d decided it was imperative that she put down a marker, make it clear to him and everyone else that no one told Viviana Moreau what to do unless she chose to agree. Casting a chagrined glance at the pale woman in the mirror, she admitted how desperately wrong she’d been. Jesus
God, what was wrong with her? She’d always relied on her instincts. Yes, she often found herself out on a shaky limb of her own making, but somehow, someway, she’d manage to crawl to safety. But that was pre-Jaxton Hughes.
Unable to stop the memories assaulting her teeming brain, she forced herself to remember the scene in his office. Starting with his crisp order that she get her ass into his office, heard by everyone in the squad room this morning, was bad, which confirmed how off her judgment was. Being embarrassed in front of her colleagues was nothing compared to what happened when she got inside his chamber. She’d known that he was commanding, powerful. But, dear God, she’d always been able to put the most arrogant men in their places—places she controlled. Not Commander Hughes. It was if he had found the key to her formidable defenses and, to her horror, planned to breach those defenses anyway he chose.
Staring at herself in the unflattering two-sizes-too-big dress that hit her at mid-calf, she made a decision. It was one that she surely would regret, but she didn’t care. In all her escapades, she’d never allowed herself to be ugly, and she wasn’t about to start now. Admitting that caution wasn’t part of her MO, she ripped off the dress that was going to Goodwill where it belonged and strode naked to her closet. Pawing through the multi-hued gowns that had made her the star of every party she attended and the lusted-after undercover agent on every mission, she reached for the dress. On the hanger, the most obvious thing about it was the fabric. It was a shockingly bright gold lamé. She knew that the outrageous material didn’t begin to compete with what happened to the gown when it covered her lush body. Shooting her a confirming nod, Viviana smiled at the fearless woman in the mirror, congratulating her on her daring.
An hour later, she gazed appraisingly at the woman now reflected in the mirror. She’d started at the bare skin level, creating the phenom she saw before her. Viviana had learned from experience that the more outrageous her lingerie was—even though no one but her would see the bits of satin and lace—the racy underwear helped build her character from the ground up. The dress’s stretchy, sparkly fabric hugged and underscored her significant curves. Shocking five-inch, high-heeled gold sandals added height to her impressive figure and enhanced her toned legs and thighs.
Shoving at the uneasiness that floated unbidden over her, Viviana reminded herself that she wasn’t going undercover. Instead, she would be walking into a party populated by the makers and shakers of their city. The mayor and the political, financial, and, yes, law enforcement elite would all be there to welcome the new police commander. For better or worse, they all knew her. She couldn’t hide behind an undercover role. Tipping her chin up in the air, she ignored her momentary unease. The arrogant commander had dared her to wear this shocking dress to the big, important bash. To make a certain scene? Well, fuck him. If anyone could pull off a scene, the more outrageous the better, it was Viviana Moreau.
****
Jax stood next to Mayor Simpson and his wife, Annabelle, greeting the impressive people lining up to meet him. Years of undercover work and hobnobbing with international leaders and dangerous criminals had made him an expert at the sophisticated repartee required to make the impression he intended to make. He knew that Commissioner Davis and Chief McElroy had put themselves on the line when they convinced the mayor and other officials that Jaxton Hughes was just the man they needed to restore dignity to the embattled police force. Like most police departments in the country, the SJPD had earned more than their share of bad press. From the “Black Lives Matter” campaigns to the rapidly increasing drug and human trafficking rings operating virtually in the open, the SJPD had been under fire. No city wanted a per capita murder rate to be in the top ten list of most dangerous cities. Unfortunately, San Jose was well on its way to earning that questionable status. To top it off, the city had been rocked by a series of high-level corruption scandals that had involved the police. While the public in general had supported Commander Michels, the commissioner and police chief knew that the irascible old-school cop wasn’t up to the heavy artillery coming their way. Enter Jaxton Hughes.
“Jax, I’d like you to meet Deidre Cummings, the closest thing this city of ours has to a true socialite, in addition to being stunningly beautiful.” Frank Reynolds continued his lavish praise as Jax turned to greet the lovely woman at his side. “I’m not exaggerating when I say that Deidre has almost single-handedly revived the cultural landscape of our city. Before she began to spread her magic, our orchestra, ballet, not to mention the theater scene, was flailing badly. I’m pleased to report that all three are now making a significant comeback.”
Gazing at the dark-haired woman next to Frank Reynolds, Jax had to agree. She was beautiful. Tall and slender, she could have been a runway model. Lacking the curves that Jax preferred in the women he bedded, she made up for her lack of abundant flesh with one of the loveliest faces he’d ever seen. Shining black hair swept into a sophisticated twist on the top of her head added to her height and regal bearing. Arched brows and lengthy lashes underscored her shining dark, almost black eyes. The golden tinge to her skin spoke to an esoteric ethnicity. Given her first name, he decided the Greek Islands had played a formative role in her genetic makeup.
Being an avowed clotheshorse himself, Jax estimated that her exquisite designer gown and the jewelry ornamenting her impressive couture had to have cost in the five figures. Wondering how a fashion diva and clearly wealthy woman had made her way to San Jose, Jax bowed low over her hand, then smiled up at her.
“My pleasure, madam. And while I don’t know how you managed to reignite the cultural landscape of the city, I concur with Frank. You are a stunningly beautiful woman.”
Nodding to the public relations pundit at her side, the lovely woman allowed her full lips to curve in a smile. In a throaty voice that intimated a familiarity with late-night rendezvous and questionable soirees, she met Jax’s assessing gaze head on.
“I don’t know if it is proper to allude to a man’s pulchritude, but while I’ve heard nothing but praise regarding your official actions, no one told me that the new commander was a Jamie Dornan double.”
Jax smiled at the layered compliment and decided to take her on. “I will admit that for some reason I have been mistaken for that particular fellow. I’m not sure if I should claim the resemblance, given that his apparent claim to fame is his leading role in that impertinent film Fifty Shades of Grey.”
Deidre’s eyes flashed mischievously. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed to be linked to that daringly provocative movie?”
Jax met her sultry gaze with a narrowed one of his own. “Not in the least. If anything, the Dornan chap looks a little too young to lay claim to the expertise required of a legitimate Christian Grey.”
With a trilling laugh, the sophisticated woman moved up next to him and teasingly played with the edge of his sleeve as if testing the fabric. Smiling, she said in an undertone, “I never saw the film. Somehow I questioned whether Hollywood could do it justice.”
Jax met her gaze and implication head on. “I’m certain you are correct, madam. No doubt Hollywood would try to romanticize a practice that is best left to the experts, not to young, untried men and women. A travesty at best.”
Seeing Mayor Simpson and his wife approaching, Deidre said in a sultry undertone, “I couldn’t agree more, Commander Hughes. Perhaps we can continue our conversation at a later time.”
Nodding in agreement to her scarcely couched innuendo, Jax turned to acknowledge the mayor.
“I see you have met the woman who has taken our fair city by storm, Jax. Do know that everything you hear doesn’t begin to describe the impact that she has had on the cultural underpinnings of our city. Annabelle and I are grateful that Ms. Cummings decided to make San Jose her personal redevelopment project. In the short couple of years that she has been here, she has transformed a dying culture and given us a reputation for something other than corruption and over-the-top policing.”
Surprised at the may
or’s open reference to the challenges facing the SJPD, Jax managed a collegial, if stern, reply. “I’m glad to hear that the city has rebounded and to meet one of the individuals apparently responsible for its resurgence. However, Mayor Simpson, you must take some of the credit. I understand from my associates that you have not only been a supporter of the arts but also of the law enforcement community. That support is essential if we are to turn around some of the unfortunate incidents in the past.”
Simpson surprised Jax with his frankness. “I don’t have to tell you Jax, how much it means to me that you agreed to head up the VCU. Captain Michels was a friend, but he was in over his head. One crisis too many took him down.”
Commissioner Davis, whose ruddy cheeks and over-the-top bonhomie spoke to his familiarity with the open bar, sidled up to the group. Planting a quick kiss on Annabelle Simpson’s cheek and a noisier one on Deirdre Cummings’s bronzed cheek, the commissioner addressed the mayor. “Couldn’t help, George, overhearing your reference to the SJPD and Captain Michels. I hate to lay blame when there’s plenty to go around, but let’s face it, that testy son of a bitch was out of his depth.”
The mayor nodded in agreement, then added in an undertone, “Give the old bird some credit, Paul. Even you have to admit corralling Sergeant Moreau is no small task. Oscar just wasn’t up to it.”
“I agree. That’s one of the primary reasons I shanghaied Jax, here. If anyone can control that little hellcat, it’s this impressive man standing beside me.”
Frank Reynolds’s eyes flared open, and he emitted a low whistle. “Well said, Paul. And apparently our new commander is going to have the opportunity to prove his mettle.”
Jax followed Reynolds’s wide-eyed glance at the doorway to the ballroom, and before he could reply to Frank’s dare, Paul Davis spoke for the group.
“Jaaasus fuckin’ Christ. I thought I’d seen it all. I dunno about the rest of you guys, but if I died tonight, I’d happily make my way to hell to thank the devil for outdoing himself. If I’ve ever seen an ass that was made by Lucifer to turn the most innocent choirboys into lecherous lads, it’s that luscious piece of sweet meat strolling through the door, swinging her wares for all to see.”