“Sir, roll down your window.” Even to herself she sounded bored.

The driver sported sunglasses and a bright smile. His chocolate-brown skin seemed flawless and sculpted from a Godiva’s factory batch.

Freak. Wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night.

“Yes, Officer,” he said, producing a subtle voice filled with soothing syllables as if his breath caressed each letter. He continued to smile as he rolled down the window. After which, he slowly placed both hands on the wheel.

What the hell is the matter with me? Pull your head outta your ass, Quinn!

With a gargled sigh, she said it again, this time with more volume. Pulling out her flashlight, she gripped it tightly around its base. “Sir, roll down the window. Now! Please!”

Why did the men have to be so stubborn with female cops? Had it been one of the boys who’d pulled this prick over, he would’ve had his license out and on a platter.

The driver turned and looked at her with what could only be unchecked lust rising hot in his eyes. As he slowly slid the sunglasses down, his pupils, a syrupy brown seemed to contain flames—his irises were orange.

What the hell? Quinn flinched.

But the driver blinked, and as she cautiously looked again into the driver’s side window, she noticed his eyes were light brown.

He winked.

Oh, no, not this time, handsome! A surging tug of desire clenched her gut. She ignored it. Teasing an officer should be illegal. Taunting one should be, too.

With one long finger, he pushed his sunglasses back up. He licked his juicy, full lips. The sunglasses were dark, but Quinn could feel his eyes give her the once over, roaming over her well-fitted uniform as if she wore nothing at all.

Men always thought they could flirt their way out of a ticket.

“May I see your driver’s license?” Quinn asked again and rapped the on the side of the door with the butt of her gun. She stepped backward, just behind the driver’s side, so she could see him and whatever naughtiness he had lined up.

Past the three unbuttoned slots of his collared shirt, she made out an exposed stone-hard chest and coiled, curly hair, pitch black like the mustang he drove, his hair, and the night’s sky.

The blanket of hair peeked through the thin fabric, enticing Quinn’s attention, beckoning her to touch and caress the fuzzy fizzle until she unearthed his nipples.

Somehow she knew they’d be taut and pointed with passion.

Damn, girl, focus!