Part 3Shotgun Wedding to the Cop

That voice. It was so familiar it sent a jolt of ice through my veins.

I looked up and there he was. Nate Cole, standing in the doorway, his uniform buttoned to the collar, a leather belt cinching his lean, powerful waist.

His eyes swept over my tiny skirt and barely-there top, and I saw his Adam’s apple bob.

Our gazes locked. My hand shot behind my back as if it had been burned.

“Honey, I… I can explain…” I stammered. “They all ordered a guy, I didn’t… I didn’t even touch him, I swear! I didn’t even look!”

A young officer next to him snorted, trying to stifle a laugh. “Detective Cole, here’s the surveillance footage…”

He handed Nate a tablet.

I watched in horror as the screen played back a crystal-clear video of me, drooling over a set of abs like an idiot. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole.

It got worse.

Nate hit pause.

Then he zoomed in, enlarging the image of my trembling fingers, hovering just inches from the model’s stomach.

“Ginnifer.” He tapped the screen with a knuckle, his wedding ring making a sharp, metallic sound against the glass. “Care to explain this particular… gesture?”

My knees went weak. I nearly collapsed right there on the floor. “Honey, listen to me! It was… art appreciation!”

Nate gritted his teeth. “Take them away.”

He strode past me, the long legs of his uniform trousers practically radiating fury. I suddenly remembered our first date, how I’d stared at his uniform and my mind had filled with filthy thoughts of handcuffs and forced proximity.

Well, karma had come for me. He really was putting me in handcuffs.

I had earned myself a shiny pair of silver bracelets.

Sob.