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electricity go through me. How can this be happening? I’m still attracted to him.
    Very attracted to him .
    As his hand reaches for mine I feel the heat radiating from his body even before his touch.
    And his touch makes me tingle all over.
    I’m screwed. Completely and royally.
    We’ll be spending our entire work day for the next ten weeks in very close proximity to each other. I can’t spend all that time feeling like a horny teenager.
    “Nice to meet you,” Cody mutters.
    He seems about as happy about this situation as a bear caught with his leg in a steel trap.
    “That will be all,” Sergeant Wilmore says dismissing us.
    We both sprint so quickly out of his office you’d think we were being chased.
    “Don’t say one word until we’re outside,” I warn as we march down the hallway side-by-side.
    Cody doesn’t acknowledge my threat and he doesn’t look at me. His eyes are planted firmly on the ground.  
    Once we’re outside of the station and heading towards the patrol car we’ll be sharing I lay into him. “I thought your name was CJ.”
    “It’s a nickname,” he fires back. “The guys I played baseball with in high school all called me CJ because there were two other guys named Cody on the team.”
    “This whole situation is fucked,” I hiss.
    “Well we fucked. I’m not sure about the situation.”
    I point a finger in his face. “Don’t ever say that again. You don’t know me. We just met today. And I’m your Field Training supervisor. Got it?”
    “Whatever you say, Sweet Cheeks. Or should I call you Officer Sweet Cheeks?”
    “Get in the car.”
    I’m so angry and humiliated my entire body is starting to shake. How can this be happening? I keep hoping I’ll wake up and it will all be a really bad dream.
    Of course I’ve never been that lucky.
    Once we’re both in the car Cody turns to me. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re a police officer?”
    “It’s not something I like to talk about with guys I date.”
    “Are we dating?” he asks hopefully.
    “No. What happened between us was a one-time thing…”
    “Three times,” he corrects.
    I glare at him. “You know what I mean. And now we have to forget that anything ever happened. Got it?”
    “So why don’t you tell guys you’re a cop?” He actually sounds sincere and that kills me inside.
    I may want Cody more than a starving man wants a steak dinner, but I can’t have him. Not now and not ever again.
    From this moment forward things between us have to remain one hundred percent professional.
    “It doesn’t matter,” I tell him. “The only thing you need to know is that I’m overseeing your field training. Got it?”
    Even though he nods I’m not convinced that he’s completely convinced. He’d better get on board fast. My job is my life. I have no intention of sacrificing it for him, or anyone else. 
    ***
    On an average day on patrol I’m likely to get three to five calls.
    Cody’s first day has been anything but average.
    We’ve already responded to three calls and it’s not even lunchtime yet.
    Our first call was a woman who died sitting on the toilet. Not a pretty picture. That was followed by a case of a disappearing garden gnome. The middle-age woman insisted her neighbor stole it because she was jealous. Our third call was a senile older gentleman who claimed his attic had been taken over by aliens.
    Dealing with Cody has proven to be much more difficult than dealing with the general public.
    According to our Field Training Manual a training officer is supposed to: direct and guide the work of one’s subordinate .
    Cody has been making it extremely difficult for me to do much directing or guiding of his work. He keeps gaping at me like a lovesick schoolboy.
    On our way inside Which Sandwich, a lunch stop I like to frequent, I turn to him and say, “You need to stop looking at me the way you’re looking at me.”
    He glances at me innocently, his eyebrows raised. “How am I looking at you?”
    I