Carol Finch - Fit To Be Frisked

When Miranda pulled up in front of Stephanie’s Palace, Vance stared questioningly at her. “Why are we stopping here? Checking for a liquor license or something?”

“Nope. This is where you get out, cowboy,” she said.

He frowned suspiciously. “Now look, Calamity Jane, you upheld your end of the deal today and I sure as hell intend to uphold mine. I’m not about to lounge around at dinner while you’re wolfing down a stale sandwich from Hoot ’N’ Holler and patrolling the streets.”

“Get out, Vance. I’m giving an order, just like the ones you gave me at your ranch. I obeyed them to the best of my abilities. I expect the same consideration from you. Now go!”

He opened his mouth to protest then clamped his jaw shut. “Okay, fine. But if you don’t come back in an hour so I can take my tour of duty I’m gonna be spitting mad. Got it?”

Miranda nodded. “Got it. Now beat it. I’m going to check the alleys to ensure the other downtown businesses are secured for the night.”

The instant he stepped from the car she whizzed off, before his guilty conscience could nip at him again and he tried to climb back inside. As for Miranda, she desperately needed some breathing space—some downtime away from the kind of temptation she’d never faced…until she ran headlong into Vance Ryder.

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