Free The Sweetheart Racket by Cheryl Ann Smith Page B

law-breaking is the fault of the road commission for building straight roads?”
    â€œSee, you get it,” she gushed.
    Rick shook his head. Where had the real Taryn gone and who was this flirt? Whoever she was, he didn’t like her. Or maybe he just didn’t like the way she looked at Hunter the Trooper and his bulging biceps. The man needed a bigger shirt.
    Hunter finally grunted and leaned down, putting his folded arms on the window frame, and grinned. Rick barely warranted a two-second look. He watched the trooper glance down Taryn’s V-neck; then he flicked a smug glance at Rick, knowing he’d been caught looking. Ass. The guy was clearly hooked on Taryn and wasn’t against staking a claim.
    As long as Trooper Hunter didn’t piddle on her shoe, Rick could deal with a little competition. If he were in the market for a relationship, that was.
    Hell, what unattached male wouldn’t be hooked on her? She was sexy as hell.
    â€œI should give you a ticket,” Trooper Hunter said and stared down at her mouth. “Several tickets.”
    â€œYou should,” she said, smiling.
    â€œWhat I’d rather do is take you out to a movie,” Hunter said. He reached out to touch her shoulder with his index finger. “One of those chick flicks you like.”
    Here we go, Rick thought. The guy casually flexed his pecs, as if to remind her of what dating him would get her: a testosterone-filled cave man. The feat of flexing was hard to pull off in a too-small polyester shirt under a bulletproof vest. But the trooper managed.
    Thankfully, the seams of the shirt held. Just what they needed was a shirtless trooper to further entice Taryn.
    Rick bit back a snort. He returned to trying to find faults with the Ken-doll–law-enforcement-professional. And failed. Damn, Hunter was perfect, Rick grudgingly conceded.
    If you liked that type.
    â€œHunter, you know we don’t mix,” Taryn was saying with a frown and a scold. “Our previous date was a disaster. You tried to pick up our cute waitress during the fried cheese sticks appetizer. Right in front of me. That wasn’t cool.”
    Hunter’s grin widened. “You’re right. I was a jerk. That’s why I didn’t ticket you the last two times I pulled you over. This is your third strike, though. So slow down.”
    â€œI’ll try.
    â€œGood. And if you change your mind about that date, you have my number. Call me.” He drew a hand over his wide chest but stopped short of expelling a Tarzan yell.
    Rick was grateful for an end to the encounter. And annoyed. At least Taryn hadn’t giggled.
    â€œI do have it,” she said and slid her driver’s license back into her wallet. “Thanks.”
    Hunter gave Rick one last glance, smirked arrogantly like he believed himself the dominant male, then pushed off the car and walked away. Taryn smiled a Cheshire cat smile and dropped her wallet back in her bag.
    Rick wanted to beat the hell out of the trooper. Just for fun . . . and for looking down her shirt.
    Instead, he focused on her. “You are a confirmed menace on the road,” Rick said and tried to settle his temper. It wasn’t working very well. “How many tickets have you racked up anyway?”
    She looked at him sidelong. “Zero.”
    It figured.
    â€œLife isn’t fair, you know that?” he said and expelled a harsh breath. “Hot women get all the breaks.”
    â€œYou think I’m hot?”
    â€œDon’t go there.” He settled back in his seat, frustrated more at himself for caring who she dated than her driving. After all, he barely knew her and wasn’t interested in her outside of work. Why did he care if she went out with Hunter the Trooper god?
    He knew he should forget the muscle-neck, and surfer boy before him, and move on. Instead, he cut loose with, “I can’t believe you went out with that jerk. I suspect he spent your