Searching for Always

by Jennifer Probst

"You some kind of in-house therapist now?" he mocked. "We kissed. It was good. But she's a damn grenade ready to go off. I need her to be sure she knows it's just physical between us."

  "Why do I think you're the real grenade here, Petty?"

  "Shut up, Devine. Go grow a pair."

  His friend laughed harder. "You're still wearing the amethyst, aren't you?"

  He refused to answer. Bastard.

  A voice crackled over the speaker. "Car Forty-one. Fight developing at Mugs Tavern, 120 Main Street."

  Devine grabbed the radio. "En route."

  "Over."

  Stone looked at his partner, then grinned. "Bar fight, dude!"

  Devine motioned to him. "Drive faster or we're gonna miss it. Hit the sirens."

  Stone hit the lights and they sped to their destination within minutes. Trying to hide their eagerness, they put on their game faces to look like aggravated cops and walked in. Stone looked around, scanning the surroundings for broken glass, shoving, yelling, and overall male good times. He saw nothing. Just the usual battered booths, wooden Irish bar, dartboard, and various tables scattered around. The place was packed, but nothing rowdy caught his gaze.

  He went to the bar and held up his hand. The bartender came over. "Got a call on a fight going on?"

  The bartender nodded and pointed across the room. "Yeah, those two drunkards. Fighting over some girl. I don't get paid to break up fights, man. We have no bouncers here."

  Devine nodded. "We'll take care of it."

  They strolled over. A heated argument was taking place with two men who'd seen better days. One had a beer belly, white skin, and paunchy cheeks. The other was whip skinny, had a bony face, wore schoolteacher glasses, and reminded Stone of Ichabod Crane. Their voices rose higher and higher.

  "I looked at her first! She was ready to leave with me until you slobbered all over her," Pudgy yelled.

  Ichabod leaned in. Saliva sprayed. "I already bought her a drink when you came sniffing around. My night was set until you interrupted and scared her away with your face!"

  "Fuck you!" Pudgy roared. "She'd never leave with a skinny-ass punk, four eyes!"

  "Four eyes? What are you, twelve? Go drink some more beer, why don't you, fatso?"

  Stone and Devine shared a humorous glance. Damn, what a pansy-ass fight. At this point, no one would even make a move. Holding back a sigh, Stone moved toward them. "Gentlemen. I'll need you to lower your voices or leave the establishment."

  "Oh, good, the police are here," Pudgy sneered. "Arrest this asshole for being ugly."

  Ichabod narrowed his gaze. "Arrest this asshole for being stupid!"

  Devine clamped his lips together, probably to stifle a laugh. "Follow me; let's get some air before things get nasty."

  Stone watched his partner guide the squabbling men out the front door. Nah. Neither one was gonna take a punch. He turned on his heel to follow them out when screams rang through the bar, making everyone crane their necks to look at the commotion. The back room, usually used for parties, was rocking. Music blared, and he caught a swarm of short skirts, swishing hair, and loud revelry. All women.

  Bachelorette party.

  A grin tugged at his lips. That was probably rowdier than anything he'd seen in the past month. Should he make the excuse to check it out by asking them to lower their voices? Not that he wanted to be a dick, but it would be fun to see what they were up to.

  He reached the door, when a petite brunette stumbled out on teetering heels. Her blue eyes sparkled, and she held a martini of some sort that was a bright green color. "I'll send him in when he comes!" she screeched. Another round of giggles floated past. "Get the music ready! Oh!"

  She ran into his chest. Stone caught her. "Officer Stone! It's you!"

  He frowned, then realized he held Genevieve MacKenzie in his arms. He'd met her over the summer during the domestic abuse and vandalism cases. He had liked her immediately and was glad she got rid of her asshole ex who was an abuser. Stone smiled. "Dr. MacKenzie. A pleasure." He raised a brow. "Are you involved with these shenanigans?"

  She laughed and found her balance. "My friend Kate's bachelorette party. Girls' night out, you know."

  "Nice. No drunk driving, right?"

  She shook her head. "Limo service." She paused, a calculating light gleaming in her eyes. "Arilyn's inside, you know."

  "Arilyn?" His brain stuttered. Stone glanced at the door, then tried to act cool. "That's nice."

  Gen smiled real slow. "She mentioned you tonight. Said she had something to tell you? Seemed important. Does this sound familiar?"

  His blood turned to lava and his dick hardened. Was she kidding? Was Arilyn ready to ask him to take her to bed--on his terms? Had she told Genevieve the entire story? Knowing how girls gossiped, he tried to remain calm. "I'm surprised she told you such intimate details."

  Her grin widened. "Girls talk. I think if you went in there, she'd be real grateful."

  Now he was turned on and confused. "Huh. I don't want to break up a women-only party."

  "No, she'd love to see you. Seriously. Go talk to her."

  He shifted his weight. Maybe he should. After all, Gen wouldn't send him in there if Arilyn didn't want to see him. He'd just spend a few minutes. "Sure. Let me tell my partner and I'll be right back."

  Stone poked his head out the door. His partner had both bozos in the backseat and a satisfied expression on his face. "What the hell happened?"

  "They took swings at each other! Tumbled on the ground like two girls rolling around and punching. It was awesome. I'm gonna book 'em and take them in."

  Fuck. He'd missed it. "Listen, I gotta talk to someone. We're off shift anyway, so get 'em to the station and I'll get a ride home."

  "Sure? Gonna leave all the fun to me, huh?"

  "Yeah, I'll grab a cab. I may stay for a drink."

  "Got it. See you tomorrow."

  Stone headed to the back of the restaurant. Genevieve grabbed him and nudged him inside. "Go ahead. She's going to be so excited to see you!"

  Feeling a bit better on seeing Gen's enthusiasm, Stone stepped into the room. The door slammed behind him. He looked around, expecting to find Arilyn, pull her aside, and have a private conversation.

  Instead, he found himself in the snake pit.

  Women surrounded him. Lots of women, all staring at him with a scary hunger that made him shudder. The group began to scream and stamp their heels on the floor as if he were the main attraction they'd been waiting for. What the hell was going on?

  "He's here!" a tall blonde yelled. "Get ready for an arrest, ladies!"

  Huh?

  A lone chair stood in the center of the circle. Suddenly, his ears hurt from the music blaring through the speakers. Was that "You Can Leave Your Hat On"? Wasn't that a stripper song?

  "Take it off, baby!"

  "I'm breaking the law, sweetheart, come on over here!"

  A brunette giggled and crooked her finger. "I've been real bad, Officer," she yelled. "And I'm concealing a deadly weapon. Come frisk me!" Holy shit, she began jiggling her breasts at him.

  It finally hit him. He was in a room full of very drunk women who thought he was their cop stripper. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Stone opened his mouth and tried to tell them, but a pretty woman with caramel-colored hair shook her head as if annoyed by his silence, walked to the center of the room, and grabbed his hand.

  Her smile reminded him of a shark's. "I paid good money for you, dude," she whispered. "Don't just stand there. Give us a show; we won't bite."

  "I got money, Officer!" a brunette screamed. "Come and get it!"

  No way. This wasn't really happening, was it?

  "I think there's been a mistake, ma'am," he said firmly. "I'm not a stripper. I'm a cop."

  The blonde rolled her eyes. "Sure, sure, you're a cop. Take your shirt off, dance a bit, and arrest someone. I promise I'll tip you extra. Oh, Kate is the bride, she's hiding over there." She pointed a finger at a woman dressed in blac
k with silvery blond hair, squashed behind two of her friends with a scared look on her face.

  "She doesn't look real interested," he said. "Maybe getting her a stripper wasn't such a great idea."

  The woman glared at him with whiskey eyes. "Everyone needs a stripper. Now, I'm sorry if you're suddenly shy and want to choke, but I promise we'll respect you. Just take some clothes off, shimmy your hips, and make us happy. Deal?" He opened his mouth to tell her no way in hell, he was no damn stripper, but she clapped her hands. "Okay, ladies, our hot policeman is ready! Kate, get your ass in the chair."

  The group screamed and whistled and stamped their feet. Dollar bills waved madly in the air. Women swayed to the beat, waiting for him to take his clothes off.

  "Arilyn, help me!" Kate screamed.

  Then he saw her.

  She walked toward him, weaving her way through the screaming women, and positioned herself right in front of the chair.

  Holy. Shit.

  Miles of long legs. Feet clad in fuck-me knee-high boots. He groaned as the sudden image of those legs wrapping tight around his hips while he drove inside of her swarmed his vision. Her mouth opened in a little shocked O, and her gorgeous meadow-green eyes were slightly blurred and unfocused. Definitely tipsy. On the way to drunk. She held a green fruity drink--probably an apple martini like Genevieve's--and wore the tiniest, hottest outfit he'd ever seen.

  His gaze pinned her tight, allowing her no escape. Her top was mostly unbuttoned, showing off a huge amount of smooth cleavage, and a bad-girl leather jacket topped the whole thing off. Even her hair was different, the long strands curled in big waves that tumbled over one eye, spilled over her shoulders, and hit her hips.

  With no makeup and casual clothes, the woman was gorgeous. Dressed tonight? She was Eve, Helen of Troy, and Kim Kardashian all rolled up into the hottest bundle he'd ever seen.

  Her appearance screamed sex, from her pouty red lips, to her come-hither eyes, to her fuck-me boots. There wasn't a shred of organic cotton in sight, and in that moment, all the blood rushed to his other head and he was toast.

  Ignoring the noise and urging of the crowd, he stared helplessly at her, hard as a rock and completely intoxicated.

  Her teeth pulled at her lower lip. Her breath made a catchy little moan, and when she finally spoke, her voice came out husky, like she'd spent the night in his bed screaming his name and had nothing left. "What are you doing here?"

  "Gen said you wanted to talk to me."

  She blinked. "No. I didn't even know you were here."

  "I think I was set up. They think I'm a stripper."

  A giggle escaped her lips. Fascinated, he wanted to hear the sound again. She hiccupped. "Kennedy hired a cop stripper. Kate freaked and begged me to take her place." Her head tipped up to look at him. "I'm her wing woman," she said proudly.

  Damn, she was adorable. "So you're gonna take the stripper on for the sake of your friend?"

  Her eyes heated, roving over him like a hungry shelion. "Yeah. I am."

  Stone ached all over. He'd give over a damn appendage just to touch her right now. "You're a good friend. I kinda wish I was the stripper right now."

  Her tongue snaked out and wet her bottom lip. Those eyes heated and took in his uniform with more than a hint of lust. His dick wept. "You look like a stripper," she whispered.

  He moved closer. "You think?"

  "Yeah."

  The women roared their frustration, begging him to do something. The blonde looked like she was about to start ripping off his clothes herself for giving her a bad deal. Nothing mattered except the woman in front of him who tortured his body and mind on a daily basis.

  "What should I do?"

  She reached over, placed her hands on his face, and dragged his head forward. Her breath rushed in his ear.

  "Take it off."

  He growled low, ready to grab her, toss her on his shoulder, and take her to bed. Oh, she was brave with the alcohol and her friends and wanted to play now, huh? Did she have any idea he was a master?

  "Be careful what you wish for," he warned. "Payback is a bitch, little one."

  She had the nerve to nip at his earlobe and touch her tongue to the inner shell of his ear. He hissed in agony, and she pulled back a few inches. Smiled. "So you've said before. Unless you're all talk and no action?"

  He wasted no more time. She squealed as he tossed her over his shoulder, his hand on the gorgeous curve of her behind, and dumped her right into the chair.

  The women screamed with encouragement. He blocked her escape by standing right in front of her, so her gaze was in line with his rapidly growing erection. The music rolled out its sexy rhythm, and Stone decided to teach her a lesson of a lifetime.

  He began to take it all off.

  ARILYN WAS KIND OF drunk, but not drunk enough to realize he'd called her bluff and raised the stakes.

  The man was a walking, talking sex god.

  Her body became completely magnetized around him, humming and softening as if she recognized him as her master. Those seething inky eyes demanded deliciously bad things she craved to give him. His black hair was messy and tousled, emphasizing his carved features, sexy goatee, and full lips. His whole aura beat out one mantra. Primitive Male.

  But the uniform pushed him past the edge of droolworthy into laminated list territory.

  He was wearing a dark navy blue shirt with long sleeves and a padded vest with his name stitched on the upper right side. He was intimidating enough in a baseball jersey and jeans. But with the leather belt slung low on his hips, filled with an array of gadgets that stole her breath, Arilyn was crazed to touch him. Her gaze took in the gun holster, cuffs hanging to the side, and some type of stick in its holder. God, it was like an erotic fantasy come to life. The tight fabric molded to every meaty muscle, his chest stretched to capacity in crisp, clean navy blue, Stone Petty was a package any woman would die to unwrap.

  He towered over her, his gaze never leaving hers. As the music pumped, his fingers paused at the top button of his shirt, stroking slow, listening to the screams of the crowd, and then flicked it open lightning quick.

  Her belly dropped.

  He repeated the motion with the second button. His refusal to dance for them only made everyone crazier. Dollar bills started flying through the air and chants of "Take it off!" vibrated in the air. He ignored the other women, focused intently and only on her.

  It was the most erotic thing she'd ever experienced.

  In this crowded room, he stripped for her eyes. A line of naked flesh appeared in the gaps. Arilyn caught the hues of light brown skin, and a patch of dark hair swirled over cut, chiseled muscles. Hungrily, her gaze followed the tempting path until his shirt gaped open, giving her a tantalizing peek.

  She wondered how he tasted. Wondered how it would feel to run her tongue over that intriguing line of hair and follow it downward.

  "Do you want me to open my shirt, Arilyn?" His question burned her ears in more of a command. Even with the deafening noise, she heard him clearly, as if they were alone in a darkened room on a quiet night. Her body began to shake, and she gripped her martini glass tight. Oh, how she wanted. Bad, dirty, wonderful things. She was helpless to fight.

  "Yes."

  His lower lip lifted. Those dark eyes pinned her to the chair as capably as the handcuffs hanging on his belt. With slow, deliberate motions, he finished unbuttoning his shirt and slowly parted the material.

  The women went wild.

  "More, more, more!"

  Her mouth went dry. Her fingers itched to run over that gorgeous broad chest, tracing every carved muscle. Feeling the strength and power under each flex of movement, the drag of his breath in and out, the sound of his heart beating under her palms. She ached to feel him, stroke him, hear the groans from his lips as she pleasured him. A low whimper fell from her lips.

  "They want more," he said. "Do you want more?"

  She licked her lips. "Yes."

  Reaching over, h
e grabbed her hands and pressed them to his chest. "Then take what you want."

  Arilyn realized she was in a packed room where everyone thought he was a paid stripper, and she couldn't care less. It was literally the craziest thing she'd ever done, but she couldn't stop now. Her fingers hit the hard wall of his pecs and she stroked him. He let out a groan through gritted teeth but remained still. The song switched to Prince's "Get Off," and then she heard her name chanted in unison, commanding her to take it all off.

  Trembling, she savored the iron wall of his abs, gently tracing the edge of his belt buckle. She paused. Their gazes locked.

  "No." Her voice broke. Waves of his body heat radiated and uncoiled around her. "Not here."

  "Do you want me for yourself?"

  His harsh question demanded truth. Logically, they were all wrong. But her body didn't care, and a raw possessiveness caught her off guard. She wanted him to belong to her. She didn't want a bunch of women watching him strip with greedy eyes and hands.

  "I don't want anyone else to touch you."

  He muttered a vicious curse. "Good. I don't want anyone else to touch you either."

  He quickly refastened the buttons on his shirt. Loud boos filled the air.

  Without missing a beat, Stone picked her up easily from the chair, lifted her high, and slammed his mouth on hers.

  Arilyn was lost. Not caring that they had an audience, she twined her arms around his neck and kissed him back with a hunger she couldn't hide. The boos turned to catcalls and whistles, and a dollar bill floated down between them.

  "Come with me now," he growled against her lips.

  "Yes."

  Stone took her hand and tugged her out the door. Gen jumped when they went past her, cheeks red and flushed. "Oh! Ugh, guess you guys found each other, huh?"

  Stone gave her a look. "You'll pay for that."

  She swallowed. "Hey, I was just trying to help."

  "I'll deal with you later," he warned. "I'm taking Arilyn home." Gen shot her a look, checking to make sure it was okay. Arilyn nodded, and Gen relaxed.

  A young guy dressed in a police uniform, complete with hat, stick, and handcuffs belted to his side, blocked their way. "This is the bachelorette party?" he asked. His brow rose. "Didn't know we were doing a tag team, dude. I'm not splitting the tips."

  Stone jerked his thumb toward the door. "I warmed them up. They're all yours now."

  He didn't pause. Led her out the door and pushed her into the cab waiting at the corner for drunk patrons to take home. He snapped out her address. They didn't speak during the short drive. Soon he pressed some bills into the driver's hand and escorted her into the bungalow. Arilyn fumbled with the keys but finally got the door unlocked.