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terrorists.
    There was more to Tristy’s father’s death, though, something
bigger than the job. Something had been revealed in the aftermath which had
shaken her faith in him and in men in general. Had he been a cheater?
    Was that what had led her unwittingly to find one cheater
after another? Was she somehow punishing herself for her father’s behavior,
forcing herself to be as unhappy as she’d implied her mother had been?
    Cheating was a complex thing.
    Grant had been cheated on before. He’d had his heart broken
more than once as a matter of fact. But that was in the past.
    Grant was armored these days, just as his chest was armored,
the vest neatly tucked up under his uniform shirt. He was bulletproof. Yeah,
right , he thought as he robotically asked the blonde for her license and
registration.
    Tristy had shot him deep and true this morning.
    “I’m not your goddamn mistake,” she’d said. “You hear me?”
    Is that how he’d treated her, even if only subconsciously?
The act might have been an error but not her. She had to know that.
    Damn it! He’d handled it all wrong.
    Tristy needed to know there wasn’t a thing wrong or immoral
about her. She was lovely and beautiful and absolutely honest and innocent. She
was the best thing to come into his life in…well, ever.
    The realization made his stomach clench. He handed back the
license.
    “Watch your speed next time,” he said.
    The blonde regarded him, open-mouthed. She seemed more
surprised than he was.
    “You mean I’m free to go?”
    “That’s what it means. Now go before I change my mind.”
    The girl in the passenger seat frowned. Was it his
imagination or was there a tinge of disapproval in her eyes? As though she knew
her girlfriend deserved a ticket.
    He walked woodenly back to his patrol car. Grant was going
to have to talk to Tristy right after his shift was over.
    It would be evening by then—Saturday night. He could only
hope she would stay in tonight. In her current state of mind she would pose a
real danger to herself if she went out.
    Too bad he couldn’t arrest her. He did have his handcuffs
though. And he knew how to use them.

Chapter Five
     
    Tristy awoke disoriented, her body aching and still tingling
from the games she had been playing with herself. She had not been able to give
herself a proper spanking but she had managed to tie her wrists together with a
scarf for a nice sensation of bondage. From there it had been easy enough to
taunt her nipples and tease her pussy from orgasm to orgasm.
    Finally she had fallen asleep utterly exhausted.
    She might have lain there forever if not for the doorbell.
Tristy blinked, looking at the clock radio. The LED display read 9:30.
    Was that p.m. or a.m.? It was dark so it must be p.m. Yes,
that was it. She had left Grant’s that morning. She had been playing all day.
    Tristy sat up. Good grief, was that ringing going to go on
forever? Take a hint. I’m not home. Or I want to be left alone.
    Her heart seized.
    Grant.
    If anybody would keep on like that it would be him. What
would she say to him? Nothing. He could just wear out his finger if he liked.
    She sighed.
    That wasn’t very mature. She would at least go out there and
tell him to his face.
    Sort of.
    By the time she reached the living room she could hear him
calling her name.
    “Tristy, I know you’re in there.”
    How, Tristy wanted to know? Clutching the robe tightly about
her nude form, as if he could see through solid wood, she went to the door.
    “Grant, stop making a spectacle of yourself. You are going
to freak everyone out.”
    “I’m a cop. They’ll understand.”
    “But this isn’t police business.”
    “Maybe it should be.”
    “Why? Did I break the law?”
    “Just open the door and let me apologize.”
    She swallowed hard. She unlocked and opened the door as far
as the chain would allow. She saw his gleaming badge, his broad chest, his
solid chin.
    “Tristy, you’re leaving the chain on?