Free Pleasuring Anne by Tessie Bradford Page A

fought to get her shit under control.
    “Ms. Karmer, are you okay?” Despite not looking at them, she knew Mark had asked the question. His voice wasn’t as deep as Garth’s.
    She dropped her hands then cleared her throat a couple of times before answering. “Yes, yes I am. Come on in.” Anne opened the storm door and motioned the officers into her home. “You must think I’m crazy.”
    “Your reaction was a bit unusual,” Garth commented, staring pointedly at her.
    “Not from my perspective,” she responded with a smirk. “Chuck Philips is the first man I’ve dated in longer than I care to mention, and now, the cops are standing in my living room. I find that extremely comical, unless, oh shit, has he done something really bad?” Anne nervously ran her hands through her damp hair and shuffled from foot to foot. “He must have since you’re here. God, I’m sorry. This is obviously serious.”
    “Please try to relax, Ms. Karmer. Charles is a con man, not a violent offender,” Mark offered quickly.
    “Thank God,” Anne said as relief rushed through her. “I mean, it’s bad he’s a crook and all, but he could have done a lot worse, right?”
    “Are you defending him?” Garth asked.
    “Hell no. I’m just trying to make myself feel better for picking such a loser.”
    “Telling us everything you know about him could help us get the loser locked up.” Garth’s tone was encouraging but authoritative.
    “Sure, of course. Would you like to sit down? Can I get you something to drink? I definitely need a beverage.” Anne turned toward the kitchen then quickly back to them. “I meant water or a pop, you know, non-alcoholic stuff,” she clarified. “Is it okay if I go get one?”
    “Certainly and thanks for the offer but we’re fine, and please try to relax,” Mark said with a comforting smile.
    “Okay, I’ll be back in a jiffy, and call me Anne.”
    Her mind raced as she hurried into the kitchen, shoved the pasta back into the fridge and grabbed her water. She’d gotten through forty-five years of life without ever having any interactions with the police. Why did one of them have to be so smoking hot that her lady parts were snapping to attention? The last thing she wanted to do was discuss her dating failure with dreamy Detective Garth Slaiter. She drew a deep, hopefully calming breath and returned to the living room.
    Anne expected Garth and Mark to be seated, waiting for her. They weren’t. Mark was a step down the hallway, which led to the bedrooms and bathrooms, and Garth was fingering the envelopes on the table in the entryway where she always left them until Sunday; bill paying day.
    “I’m no expert, but aren’t you guys treading into needing a search warrant territory?”
    Mark came back into the room, pulled a small notebook and pen from his back pocket and sat down on the couch.
    “Being curious comes with the job,” Garth stated matter-of-factly. He casually sauntered his way to one of the armchairs by the fireplace. “Let’s get started, shall we?” he asked, staring into her eyes as he took his seat.
    Everything about Garth—his tone, his body language, his expression—made it crystal clear he was one powerful, alpha male. A plethora of sensations, all of which had absolutely no place in a police investigation, washed over her. Her skin tingled, her nipples hardened and her pulse pounded in her ears. She decided to sit on the opposite end of the couch from Mark, as far away from Garth as she could get in the small space, but it didn’t help. Anne stifled a moan when she crossed her legs and her clit throbbed.
    “Chuck Phillips is one of a couple of aliases used by Charles Stephens,” Garth said. “He targets unmarried, mature, financially secure women.”
    “How delightful,” she said with a snide chuckle.
    Garth gave a slight nod. “Four women in the area have come forward and are pressing charges. All of them cashed checks for him that turned out to be bad, and