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Dirty
    Landers, California
    June 20, 1992

    “ Y ou need to get laid .”
    Rolling her eyes, Jetta Briggs cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder and straightened an unruly stack of patient folders. “I’m not having this conversation with you, Mom.”
    “Come on. Tyson is the perfect male specimen. He’s strong and sexy. Give him what he wants. Who knows, maybe he’ll finally ask you to marry him.” Mom had been nagging her about Tyson ever since he brought in his Rottweiler puppy for vaccinations, flashed his million-dollar smile, and inexplicably asked Jetta out on a date. That had been four months ago.
    Maybe Mom was right. Not about the marriage crap, but the sex.
    It wasn’t that Jetta didn’t want to have sex with Tyson. She didn’t know how—not with this body, marred by heart surgery scars and scrawny from lack of tone. Exercise restrictions sucked.
    Plus, the distance between them lately wasn’t helping. Seemed like Tyson’s mind was elsewhere a lot.
    She placed the folders in the re-file basket and stood away from the check-in desk. The phone cord stretched as she shuffled around to the front and loaded a fresh batch of sign-in forms onto the clipboard for tomorrow. “Okay, I’ll have sex with him tonight.”
    “You say that before every date.”
    “I mean it this time.” Maybe.
    “You’re thirty years old, hun. You’re gonna have to give it up sooner or later.” Mom sighed. The soft chimes of the bangle bracelet she always wore teased the speaker. “And I want grandchildren one day.”
    Jetta snorted. Thirty years old and still a virgin. What a prize she was. She pulled her purse out of the cabinet and rummaged through it for her keys. “Okay. I’ll get right on that. I gotta go. He’s probably on his way over.”
    On cue, Tyson’s police car rolled into the lot. High beams brightened the semidark office through the picture windows. He parked in front, cut the engine, and gave a curt smile. Jetta waved and smiled back.
    He really was gorgeous. And sexy. And built like a world champion boxer.
    Maybe dating her was payment for a bet he lost to his buddies or something.
    “Have fun with him. Call me tomorrow with the details.” A smile snuck into Mom’s voice. “I love you.”
    “Love you too, Mom. Bye.” Jetta hung up, slung her purse over her thin shoulder, and flipped off the lights. She started to loosen her auburn ponytail from its rubber band, then thought the better of it.
    Still too chicken to try looking sexy for Tyson.
    When she got outside, he exited the car and joined her at the door. As usual, her heart tap-danced at the sight of his muscle-defining uniform. With a sweep of his hand, he removed his cap, revealing freshly cut short, reddish hair and keen brown eyes. She inhaled a breath of his spicy cologne. She had no idea what brand it was, but man, she loved that rich scent. His thumb brushed her breast and sent a line of tingles on a race to her gut. He slid his free hand down her side and rested it on her bony hip. She flinched. Couldn’t help it.
    He let her go with a hands-up “surrender” she’d expect from a criminal, not a cop. Great. Intimate moment number 732 successfully diverted. Damn it.
    “How you doing? Good day?” His voice was edgy. A little raw. She wondered if his irritation had to do with the murder case he’d been working on. More likely it was her.
    She nodded, finished locking up her only claim to fame, the Briggs Veterinary Clinic, and faced him. No need to bog down the mood with talk about the poor victim of cruelty she’d had to euthanize. The third one this week. If she ever got a hold of one of those assholes who abused animals—
    Jetta shook the dark thoughts from her head. “Yeah, not bad. You?”
    His predatory eyes glittered, sending jolts of familiar current to the crux between her legs. Happened every time he got close. Like his proximity tripped her sex-switch when it bumped into her clumsy, defensive force field. He