Fit To Be Frisked

Two brand-new stories in every volume…twice a month!

Duets Vol. #105

Talented author Carol Finch returns to Hoot’s Roost, Oklahoma, where there are quite a few single cowboys who don’t give a hoot about marryin’. But that all changes when the Ryder men meet the women of their fantasies. Enjoy Carol’s funny, romantic Double Duets stories about the BACHELORS OF HOOT’S ROOST—where love comes sweeping down the plain!

Duets Vol. #106

Popular Jennifer Drew kicks off the month with a fun story about an adventure writer who hates to travel and desperately needs a stand-in for a book tour. Jennifer always “gives readers a top-notch reading experience with vibrant characters, strong story development and spicy tension,” says Romantic Times. Dianne Drake delivers a quirky tale about a hero determined to write a romance novel. Problem is, he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body! Luckily the heroine is there to help out!

Be sure to pick up both Duets volumes today!

Fit to be Frisked
Mr. Cool Under Fire
Carol Finch

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Contents

Fit to be Frisked

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Mr. Cool Under Fire

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Fit to be Frisked

“You’re doing it again,” Miranda said.

“Doing what?” Vance asked innocently.

“Staring at me as if you can see…” Her gaze flicked away. “I don’t like it when men look past the uniform.”

“Then try pinning the badge someplace besides on your chest,” Vance teased. “Look, Officer Jackson, I’m trying my darnedest to stay out of your way, but I find you attractive. Now, if you want to arrest me for that, then fine. I’ll plead no contest.”

Miranda stared into his ruggedly handsome face and felt the unwanted jolt of attraction. “Okay, since you’re being honest I’ll return the favor. I like the looks of you, too, even if you don’t take things seriously and you drive the most pathetic excuse for a vehicle that ever cruised the highway.”

“Thank you for the comment, ma’am,” Vance said, his lips twitching. “Even if you think I’m stupid, it’s nice to know you don’t find me hideously ugly while you’re handing me warnings and tickets.”

Miranda broke down and smiled. She just couldn’t help it. The man was a charmer when he wanted to be!

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Hoot’s Roost, Oklahoma! Although Cousin Wade and Quint Ryder have found the women of their dreams in my first Double Duets, #81, Vance, the practical joker of the family, is still footloose—until he plays a prank on a lady cop. When she fines him for stupidity the fireworks explode.

Miranda Jackson is a by-the-book rookie cop and she doesn’t find the handsome cowboy’s playful attitude the least bit amusing. Furthermore, she has her life all planned out and she has no intention of becoming sidetracked by this unexplainable attraction to a man who is her exact opposite. A practical joker and a cop? It’ll never work. Yet she’s thinking very seriously about arresting Vance for theft—because the fun-loving cowboy has stolen her heart.

Happy reading,

Carol Finch

Books by Carol Finch

HARLEQUIN DUETS

36—FIT TO BE TIED

45—A REGULAR JOE

62—MR. PREDICTABLE

72—THE FAMILY FEUD

81—LONESOME RYDER?*

RESTAURANT ROMEO*

SILHOUETTE SPECIAL EDITION

1242—NOT JUST ANOTHER COWBOY

1320—SOUL MATES

HARLEQUIN HISTORICALS

592—CALL OF THE WHITE WOLF

635—BOUNTY HUNTER’S BRIDE

This book is dedicated to my husband, Ed, and our children—Jill, Kurt, Christie, Jeff and Jon—with much love. And to our grandchildren—Livia, Kennedy, Blake and Brooklynn. Hugs and kisses!

1

VANCE RYDER HEARD SIRENS wailing behind him, but he couldn’t see the flashing lights because his old clunker farm truck was caked solid with mud. All Vance had was a peephole on the windshield to see where he was going. It looked as if he’d have to talk his way out of a traffic ticket before he got this bucket of rust into Hoot’s Roost to replace the bald tires and exhaust system that had more holes in it than a slice of Swiss cheese.

Shouldn’t be too hard to get off with a warning, he mused confidently as he pulled the old truck onto the shoulder of the road. Hoot’s Roost’s police department was accustomed to dealing with farmer/stockmen and their beat-up equipment. For certain, the law officers in the area tended to overlook minor infractions because they’d seen their share of rattletrap trucks, tractors and machinery moving from one field to another.

In fact, Vance predicted that his old school chum, Turk Barnett, was the officer who’d pulled him over just to chitchat. Turk could talk your leg off if you let him and he got lonely while he cruised the streets during his long shifts.

Vance killed the engine and bounded from the truck. He stopped dead still when a sharp, female voice said, “Freeze! Stay where you are!”

Startled, Vance pivoted on his boot heels to see a female officer pull her gun and crouch in shooting position. Was she nuts? Obviously so. He wasn’t a gangster and Hoot’s Roost was not the crime capital of Oklahoma. This was cattle country.

“Put your hands on top of the truck, sir,” the cop commanded authoritatively.

Vance did as he was told then squinted into the bright sunlight to survey the shapely silhouette of the woman in blue who approached him as if she expected him to grab a pistol from out of nowhere and shoot her full of lead. Her weapon was trained on his head, but Vance’s gaze was fixed on her well-endowed chest.

Wow! This lady cop was some kind of built and he had trouble raising his fascinated eyes from her bosom. When he did he found himself staring at a pair of mirrored sunglasses and a pouty mouth that looked all too kissable—but not the least bit friendly. She snatched off her glasses and tucked them in her breast pocket, and he found himself gazing into a pair of cedar-tree-green eyes that were fanned by long curly lashes.

Whoa, mama, this didn’t look like any cop Vance had ever encountered. He began to wonder if there might be an advantage to being arrested by her on a regular basis.

“Don’t ever climb from your vehicle until you’ve been asked to do so,” she lectured as she stared at him over the barrel of her police-issued pistol. “Do you understand, sir?”

Vance nodded stupidly. He studied Officer Gorgeous for a long befuddling moment. Ah, now it was beginning to soak in. This had to be a prank, he decided. Since he’d been dubbed the practical joker of the Ryder family, his ornery cousins had probably decided to have him placed under mock arrest. His birthday was just a week away so he figured Cousin Quint and Cousin Wade probably decided to give him a prank for a gift. After all, Vance always enjoyed a good joke, even if it was played on him.

As the supposed lady cop with the killer body approached, Vance turned sideways to flash his patented Ryder grin. “Cute, darlin’, you really had me going for a minute. Did Cousin Q and Cousin W send you out here?”

“Excuse me?”

The dark-haired bombshell was playing her role to the hilt. “C’mon, I know my cousins sent you. You’re my birthday gag gift, right?”

She stared at him as if he was off his rocker. “I need to see your license and insurance verification.”

Still grinning good-naturedly, Vance reached into his hip pocket to extract his license from his wallet. He glanced over the top of her head to stare at the patrol car. “Turk’s in there, isn’t he? Should’ve known he’d be in on this. Yo, Turk! You can sit up now. You’re busted.”

But Turk Barnett didn’t raise his head and show himself. Vance’s gaze swung back to the cop who was checking his ID. “This isn’t a practical joke?”

“No, sir,” she said as she stuffed her weapon into its holster. “This is a 705, 734, 736, 743 and an 804 traffic violation.”

Vance frowned. “What the heck does all that mean?”

She looked him squarely in the eye. “Basically it means that this vehicle is an unfit pile of junk that doesn’t meet safety regulations and the mud on your windshield and rear window obstructs your vision. You’re dangerous to other motorists,” she admonished. “I want you to remove this truck from the state highway immediately, sir.”

Vance surveyed the pile of metal and bolts that he and his cousins used to plow through creeks to repair downed fences and to haul mineral and cattle cubes to their livestock. “Okay, so one headlight is missing and it’s a little muddy—”

“A little?” The cop smirked distastefully as she appraised the jalopy that had more dents than a bumper car. “If this state still required vehicle safety inspections this junk heap would be in a salvage yard. Now, Mr. Ryder,” she said as she returned his license, “I want you to turn this thing around and head back down the graveled road.”

Vance flashed another charming smile—it was as well received as the first one. “I’m on my way to the service station to mount new tires and replace the muffler,” he explained as nicely as he knew how.

“Not today you aren’t,” she informed him. She flipped open her ticket pad and grabbed a pen.

“Aw, c’mon, Officer,” he cajoled. “Don’t give me a ticket. I’ve driven this truck into town plenty of times. This is rural America and traffic jams aren’t a problem out here in the boondocks.” To prove his point he hitched his thumb toward the highway. “No one has even driven past since you pulled me over. There’s no one here for me to endanger.”

Her green eyes narrowed on him. “Are you questioning my authority, Mr. Ryder?”

“Vance,” he corrected then grinned charmingly. “No, I’m just saying that I’ve never had a problem with the other officers in Owl County. You must be new here.”

“I am, but regulations are still regulations,” she maintained aloofly. She directed his attention to the graveled road to the west. “Now then, turn this thing around and take it back the same way you came or I will write you a ticket instead of letting you off. And don’t use the highway until this vehicle has been washed and those dangling headlights have been plugged back in their sockets.”

She slapped the warning in his hand then spun on her heels. Distracted, Vance watched the hypnotic sway of shapely hips encased in trim fitting blue slacks. His attention momentarily shifted to the long braid of glossy brown hair that glided between her shoulder blades, but ultimately, his gaze dropped to the exceptionally fine shape of her fanny.

Mmm, Officer Good Body looked as terrific when she was walking away as she did when she was coming toward him. Too bad she was rigid and unfriendly. Probably didn’t have a personality worth mentioning, either, he predicted. Definitely not Ms. Congeniality of the Police Pageant.

Vance slid onto the seat and switched the key. The engine sputtered, coughed a couple of times then growled to life. Exhaust fumes fogged around the old truck. Vance shoved the gearshift into Reverse then backed into the bar ditch to turn around.

He was more than a little surprised that Ms. By The Book didn’t stop him for an improper U-turn. But she just sat there in her black-and-white, staring him down through her sunglasses as he veered around her to hang a right onto the gravel road.

A devilish grin pursed Vance’s lips when he saw Cousin Wade barreling toward him. The original plan was for Wade to pick up Vance in town so they could gather farm supplies while the rattletrap truck was being repaired. Then they’d grab a quick lunch at Stephanie’s Palace—the restaurant owned and operated by Cousin Quint’s new wife, Steph. Vance recalled that Wade had been champing at the bit all morning, anxious to complete their chores so he could meet his new wife, Laura, for lunch.

Every time Vance saw Cousin Wade—the former woman-hater of the family—drooling all over himself because he was so crazy over his new wife Vance chuckled in amusement. It was downright pathetic the way Wade and Quint mooned over their wives. In fact, there were times when his formerly macho cousins acted so sappy that it creeped him out.

When Wade thrust his arm out the window to flag him down, Vance pressed hard on the brake, reminded that adding a quart of brake fluid might not be a bad idea, too.

Wade glared at Vance. “What are you doing? Forget how to get to town?” He glanced anxiously at his watch. “I told Laura I’d meet her at noon. If you make me late you’re gonna hear about it.”

Vance swallowed a grin when inspiration struck. He hopped from the old truck. “Switch vehicles with me, cuz. I forgot something back at the ranch. You take the clunker truck to town and I’ll be right behind you.”

“You better be right behind me,” Wade threatened as he hopped from his black extended cab truck and brushed past Vance. “Today is our sixth month anniversary, ya know.”

“Gee, it’s not like you haven’t mentioned it about a dozen times this morning,” Vance said flippantly.

Impatient, Wade slammed the clunker truck in gear, whipped around and headed for the highway. Vance chuckled in amusement as his cousin roared off in a cloud of smoke. He was anxious to see how Wade fared when he met up with the latest addition to HRPD.

Ah, nothing like a good prank to start the day off right, he mused.

OFFICER MIRANDA JACKSON glanced in her rear-view mirror then muttered under her breath when she saw the same clunker truck barreling down the highway, defying her order. Apparently that handsome cowboy she’d encountered didn’t think he had to take her seriously.

Well, so much for giving that rascal a warning, she mused as she hit the switch. Lights flashed and sirens wailed. This time she’d give him a ticket and impound his truck and just let him try to talk her out of it!

When the truck eased onto the shoulder behind her, Miranda stormed back to confront Vance Ryder. She blinked in disbelief when the driver rolled down the mud-splattered side window to stare curiously at her. Another raven-haired hunk of cowboy, who bore a strong family resemblance to Vance, flashed her a winsome smile.

“Is there a problem, Officer?”

Miranda jerked herself to attention to address the driver. “The problem is that I just sent Mr. Vance Ryder back in the direction he came, in this truck, because the vehicle is in violation of several traffic codes…” Her voice trailed off when a shiny black 4X4 truck pulled up beside her. The tinted window slid downward and she silently fumed when Vance grinned playfully at her.

“Everything okay here?” he asked with mock innocence.

Miranda was tempted to grab her nightstick and whack the mischievous cowboy over his handsome head. His devilish dark eyes twinkled with amusement and she knew he was silently taunting her. He thought he’d pulled a fast one on her, did he? Well, they’d just see about that.

When he waggled his thick brows and flashed her another one of those lady-killer grins her temper snapped. “Get out of that truck, Mr. Ryder.” Both men opened their doors. “Not you, him!” she ordered as she made a stabbing gesture at Vance.

“Wha’d I do?” Vance asked, lips twitching.

“Don’t play games with me,” she said warningly. Miranda grabbed her pad and quickly wrote out a ticket.

“Hey! There’s nothing wrong with the truck I’m driving,” Vance objected hotly.

“What is going on here?” Wade demanded, glancing at his watch again. “I’m on a tight time schedule. May I go now?”

“How about we forget the ticket and I escort my cousin and the clunker truck into town,” Vance suggested. “I’ll lead Cousin Wade all the way to the service station with my emergency lights flashing. That suit you, Officer?” He had the audacity to toss her a wink and another sexy smile.

Miranda didn’t appreciate being the object of manipulation and flirtation. But just as before, those ebony-colored eyes slid up and down her body, lingering momentarily on her chest. Well, this bozo was going to find out real quick that she expected to be taken seriously. She was a law officer and he’d better show her some respect!

“Fine, Mr. Ryder, you lead your cousin to town,” she muttered as she thrust the ticket at him. “And wash that pile of junk while you’re there so you and your cousin can see where you’re going. If this happens again, I will impound the truck.”

Wheeling around, Miranda stalked back to the squad car.

“A hundred-dollar fine!” Vance yowled, his eyes bulging in disbelief. “For what?”

Miranda pivoted to toss him a goading smile. “You’ve been fined for stupidity, Mr. Ryder. Don’t ever pull a stunt like that on me again.”

With extreme satisfaction, Miranda drove off, leaving Vance staring after her with his jaw scraping his broad chest. Thought this was funny, did he? Well, he could have himself a hundred-dollar laugh. Next time maybe he’d think twice before he tried to make her look like a fool.

BY THE TIME VANCE ESCORTED Wade to Pinkman’s Service Station he was fuming mad. “A hundred freakin’ bucks,” he scowled as he slid across the seat so Wade could drive his black pickup. “That lady cop has no sense of humor whatsoever. None of the officers have ever pulled us over in the jalopy. Man, she’s a stuffed shirt, if ever there was one.”

“I’ll say she is,” Wade agreed with a grin.

Vance shot him a glare. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure it is. I saw you checking her out. Hell, your tongue was practically hanging out of your mouth while you watched her walk away.”

“Oh, stuff a sock in it,” Vance growled. “I was only gaping at her in shock. Where does that idiotic female cop think she’s patrolling? Downtown Chicago?”

Wade arched a dark brow and grinned unsympathetically as he cruised toward the restaurant to meet his wife for their anniversary lunch. “That’s a good lesson for you, joker. You gotta watch who you’re fooling with. Just pay your fine and get over it.”

“I most certainly will not!” Vance huffed indignantly. “Just because she’s a knockout in a cop uniform doesn’t mean she can go around handing out citations that no other law officer in these parts would consider ticketing.”

Wade chuckled as he pulled into a vacant parking space. “A knockout, huh? So you do admit it.”

“As if you didn’t notice she was built like a supermodel,” Vance said, and smirked. “You may be loco over Laura, but no man could overlook a woman with a body like that lady cop has.”

“I agree she’s stacked. So are you gonna ask her out after you pay your fine?” Wade asked as he piled from the truck.

“Not on your life,” Vance said adamantly. “The day I get interested in a gung ho cop is the day you have my permission to shoot me.”

“Right,” Wade said as he made a beeline for the restaurant. “A cop and a practical joker. It’d never work.”

“Damn right it wouldn’t.” Vance followed his cousin through the door to pan the interior. “I like fun-loving females whose natural reaction is to smile, not look down their noses at you and scowl. Besides, that lady cop is so staunch and defensive that she’d never be a bit of fun, even out of uniform.”

Vance was certain his cousin hadn’t heard a word he said. The instant Wade saw his blond, blue-eyed wife waving at him from the corner booth he strode toward her like a dog going to heel. It was nauseating to watch those two lovebirds together. Of course, watching Cousin Quint and his new wife, Steph, wasn’t any better. They couldn’t keep their hands and eyes off each other, either.

Speak of the devil, Vance mused as Cousin Q sauntered from the kitchen, holding hands with the redheaded queen of cuisine. Dining with these four was sure to ruin Vance’s appetite.

“What’s wrong with you?” Quint stared curiously at Vance as he cozied up in the booth beside Steph.

“Oh, don’t mind him,” Wade said, grinning. “He’s bent out of shape because he had a run-in with the new police officer. She’s a real pistol, by the way.”

“Pistol, hell,” Vance muttered. “She’s an assault weapon and she’ll mow you down if you get in her line of fire.”

Laura and Steph stared worriedly at Vance. “What happened?” Laura asked.

Wade waved off their concern. “You know the joker. He tried to play one of his dumb pranks and the new lady cop didn’t think it was the least bit funny. She fined him a hundred bucks for stupidity.”

Quint burst out laughing. “That’ll teach you to be more selective, cuz. Serves you right.”

For sure, Vance was getting no sympathy from this quarter. Even Laura and Steph commenced giggling.

Vance sulked his way through lunch while the lovebirds cooed at each other. Well, maybe his family thought he should pay the hefty fine and chalk it up to a prank gone sour, but Vance wasn’t letting it go. Ms. Gung Ho hadn’t heard the last from him on the subject. He’d go over her head and talk to the chief of police. Tate Jackson needed to know that a member of his force was harassing one of the lifelong residents of the community. Tate was a reasonable man who’d lived in Hoot’s Roost for fifteen years. He would make certain that his new officer wasn’t overstepping her bounds.

“Where are you off to in such a rush?” Wade asked when Vance dropped a ten spot on the table and vaulted to his feet.

“I’m going to swing by the police department before I pick up the old truck.”

“Let it go,” Quint advised.

“Like he said,” Wade chimed in. “All you’re gonna do is make that lady cop madder than she is now. She’ll be gunning for you every time you show your face in town.”

Vance ignored the advice and strode across town square. He cast a distracted glance toward the circular fountain where a concrete owl hovered in perpetual flight.

Although Vance was usually a happy-go-lucky, carefree kind of guy he wasn’t going to let that rookie cop get away with this. He just had to make sure he got to tell his side of the story first.

When Vance breezed in the door of the police station he flashed the dispatcher a friendly smile. “Hi, Maggie, how’s it going?”

Maggie Davidson grinned back at him. “Fine, handsome. What are you up to? No good, as usual?”

Vance braced his elbows on the counter and flashed her a high-voltage smile. At least she reacted favorably, he thought. Unlike that green-eyed monster of a cop.

He and Maggie had dated casually for a few months before she got stuck on a man who eventually became her ex-husband. Vance decided to pour on the charm and ensure that he had one ally in enemy camp.

“You know me, darlin’, I’m a harmless, law-abiding citizen who wouldn’t hurt a fly.” He graced her with a trademark grin. “Is Tate in his office? I’d like to chat with him for a few minutes.”

“Sure is. Go on back. I’ll let him know you’re on your way.”

“Thanks, good lookin’. Seeing anyone at the moment?”

Maggie shrugged and propped her chin on her hand. “Not seriously. You?”

“Nope. Maybe we can do a little two-stepping at Hoot’s Tavern Friday night.”

She beamed with delight. “Love to.”

Vance ambled down the hall, remembering that he’d always had fun with Maggie in the old days. In addition, it never hurt to have a friend in the right place. Plus, he could quiz Maggie about the new officer and find out what caused that chip on her shoulder.

“Come in,” Tate Jackson called out when Vance rapped lightly on the door.

Vance strode inside to pump Tate’s hand then he plopped into the creaky wooden chair across from the chief’s desk that was piled high with files and red-tape forms.

“What can I do for you, Vance?” Tate asked.

“I came to file a complaint,” Vance replied. “I had a run-in with the lady cop on your force this morning.”

Tate rocked back in his chair and his graying brows flattened over his eyes. “Did you? What kind of run-in?”

Vance tried to keep his voice neutral, but it wasn’t easy when the image of that high-and-mighty bombshell cop popped to mind. “She slapped me with a ticket when I tried to bring my old farm truck into town for repairs. I told her I was on my way to the service station, but it didn’t faze her. I don’t know where she hails from, but she seems to think that we should follow the same regulations here in the outback that apply to the traffic-congested metropolis.”

Tate steepled his fingers under his chin and nodded pensively. “I see. Didn’t cut you any slack, did she?”

“None whatsoever,” Vance confirmed. “That old truck might look like a bucket of rust, but it’s necessary equipment on the ranch. My cousins borrow it all the time. We haul barbwire, tools, cattle feed, you name it. There’s times when I have to take it to town for repairs, but that rookie ordered me to turn it around and drive home.”

“Hmm,” was all Tate had to say in response.

“She wasn’t the least bit understanding,” Vance went on. “She fined me a hundred bucks to let me bring the truck to Pinky’s station for tires and a muffler. You’d think there was a toll road between my ranch and town and she’s in charge of collecting payment.”

“A hundred dollars, you say?” Tate murmured. “That does sound a little steep. Let me see the ticket.”

Yesss! Good ole Tate was on Vance’s side. That was all the encouragement Vance needed. “And I’m sorry to report that your lady cop has a holier-than-thou attitude that’s going to alienate townsfolk,” he tattled.

Tate studied the ticket for a moment. “I suppose you gave her the good-ole-boy routine, but she didn’t bite.”

“She sure didn’t. I climbed down from the truck and she yelled ‘Freeze!’ Heck, you’d have thought I was about to take potshots at her or something. Then she pulled her gun on me and flashed it around to intimidate me. We’re talking loose cannon here, Chief. I’d hate to think what would happen if someone committed a serious offense,” he added. “Then she started spouting code numbers at me. I have no idea what she was ranting about.”

Another rap rattled the door and Tate glanced sideways. “Come in.”

Vance inwardly cringed when the object of his frustration materialized in the doorway. The cop with those dazzling green eyes and a body to die for stopped in her tracks. Her narrowed gaze bounced from Tate to Vance. He tossed her a smug grin. Bring it on, Ms. Smarty-Pants. We’ll see who walks out of here with the reprimand.