Eric...

I peeked down at the clock. I might make it, I thought as I pressed down on the accelerator.

I looked back to the road. “Shit! Fuck!" I shouted.

I lifted my foot and switched to the brake, finally coming to a stop on the side of the road. Blue and red lights filled my rearview mirror as I put my car in park. I leaned over to open the glove box.

"Driver. Stay seated, upright, and place your hands on the wheel," a loud voice instructed.

It was so loud it caused me to jump back and grasp the wheel. My heart was pounding, and I was trembling. I turned my head when a tapping came from my window.

"Can I open the window?" I asked nervously. The loudspeaker had me shaken.

"Go ahead," the strong voice said.

I reached over, pressed the button, and peered out the window. My heart lurched in my chest. The cop was my wet dream come to life. He had to be about six-two or six-three, and his uniform hugged tight to his muscled body—fitting him like a glove. He had brownish-blond hair, a square jaw, was clean-shaven, and wore mirrored sunglasses. He could frisk me any day, I thought.

"Do you know how fast you were going?" the cop asked, pulling me out of my sexy thoughts.

"I don't. Can I get you my license and registration? I'm running late," I said, looking back at the clock.

He nodded, and I turned back to the glove box and grabbed my information. Looking back, I held the papers out to him. The cop reached out and took them. He began to turn away but suddenly stopped and jerked his head back to look at me. He leaned down into the window and appeared to smell the air.

I looked at him in shock and sniffed the air. I didn't smell anything except for strawberries. Why the hell am I smelling strawberries? Is that his shampoo? What the hell is he trying to smell? Does he smell them too? The cop pulled his glasses off, revealing a pair of striking hazel-gold eyes and stared at me.

"What's your name?" he asked.

I glanced back to the clock nervously. Fuck, Mike is going to kill me. I looked back up at the cop.

"It's on my license. Are you going to give me a ticket? If you are, can you hurry up? I'm really late.”

The cop looked down at my license, then gazed back up at me. "So, Eric McCall, where were you going in such a hurry?"

"What is this? Twenty questions? I'm heading to work, and I'm already running late," I snapped.

I hoped he'd take the hint, but he seemed to get more comfortable. He crouched down so his face was level with mine.

"My name's Jasper. Where do you work?" he asked softly.

I stared at him as if he had lost his mind. What kind of cop introduces himself like that? I thought.

"Uh, why? Listen, can't you just write the ticket?"

He raised his eyebrow and didn't move. "Come on, Sunshine, where do you work?" he asked again.

"Sunshine, what the hell? Don't call me that!”

"But you're my—a ray of sunshine," he corrected.

I scowled. My sunshine? The cop "Jasper" was off his rocker. Jasper still didn't move to get me a ticket. He simply stared at me.