Maria Perez glanced down at
the envelope addressed to Santa Clause and knew right away
who'd pulled a practical joke on her.
Joan. She shook her head and searched the office for her friend.
Figured the blonde vixen would be in hiding. No doubt in the
ladies room laughing her ass off waiting for Maria to read
the letter.
Okay, Joan. It's a week before Christmas and I'm loaded with
holiday spirit. I'll play along. Otherwise I'd be kicking your
butt right now.
She sat at her desk, moving aside the files that screamed
for her attention. She so didn't have time for this. Just five
minutes is all she'd take for this ridiculous frivolity. The
note was handwritten and Joan hadn't even bothered to try and
hide her telltale scrawl.
Dear Santa:
My Christmas wish isn't for myself this year. It's for my
best friend, Maria Perez. You see, Maria has a very special
wish this year. She needs a tall, dark, handsome man to do
wicked things to her. Things like handcuffing her, tying her
up, spanking her and fulfilling every dark, delicious sexual
fantasy my friend has in her naughty little mind.
Please grant my wish, Santa, because my beautiful friend Maria
is too stupid to go for it on her own. In fact, how about you
give her that hot Detective Colin Maguire she's been lusting
after the past two years? You know the one I'm talking about?
The one who hangs out at her desk every time he stops in our
office to retrieve a file or talk about a case? The one who
looks at Maria as if he'd like to lick her all over like a
candy cane? You see, Santa, everyone knows Colin has the hots
for Maria and Maria wants Colin, but she won't give him the
time of day and Colin won't make the first move,, even though
this little elf would wager Colin has just what it takes to
grant Maria's every perverted little wish.
So what do you say, Santa? Isn't this the year that someone
makes Maria's Christmas wishes come true?
Your loyal elf,
Joan
"What do you have there
that has you so hot and bothered?"
Maria dropped the letter like someone had set it on fire.
The subject of the letter as well as her every fantasy leaned
against her desk, looking down at her with his steely gray
eyes and that sexy half-smile that never failed to wet her
panties.
Colin Maguire. Good God,
timing was everything, wasn't it? She shoved the letter between
the stack of client files, mentally
damning Joan for all eternity. Her friend was going to pay
for this. "Nothing. Just a note that got me pretty heated."
Colin shook his head and shifted, half-sitting on her desk.
God he smelled good. Crisp, like he had just showered. Whatever
soap he used should be outlawed because she wanted to bury
her nose in his neck. Or maybe his crotch. Hell, anywhere in
his general vicinity would be good.
"You've got to stop
taking every case personally, Maria. This job will eat you
alive otherwise."
Switching her thoughts to
something less libidinous, she said, "Someone
has to take it personally, Colin. And if I don't care about
these women, then who will? The City of Los Angeles doesn't
care enough to see that these womens' husbands and boyfriends
don't beat them half to death. Nine times out of ten the guy
is back on the streets an hour after you arrest them. And most
times back in the home beating the hell out of the woman who
called the cops on them. Or worse."
Colin winced. "I know,
babe. I do the best I can."
Maria blew out a sigh of
frustration. "I'm not blaming
you. Your hands are tied just like mine." She and Colin
had this conversation regularly. Her job as a counselor for
Domestic Violence Services and his as a detective meant they
worked together often. It also meant their cases weren't often
successful ones with happy endings.
Which meant she needed to focus on her job and less on her
nonexistent sex life. Damn that Joan, anyway. She had no business
even thinking about those things, especially the kind of sex
she thought about. Kinky, perverted, the kind of sex the women
she counseled endured. What the hell was wrong with her, anyway?
She was one sick puppy.
"Earth to Maria. Are
you in there?"
"Huh?" Her face flamed as she realized Colin continued
to stare down at her. "I'm so sorry. My mind is elsewhere
today." Like in the gutter.
"I need the Delgado
file. DA said there's talk of a plea bargain in return for
counseling."
"Great. If he agrees
to counseling we're a step ahead of most of the assholes
we deal with. Sylvia will breathe a
sigh of relief when I tell her. Carl can be one mean sonofabitch
when he's drinking, and an angel when he's sober."
"He's a mean sonofabitch
who doesn't want to do prison time. He likes to dish it out,
but he's scared as hell at the
thought of taking it."
"One of those," she said, rolling her eyes." She
looked through the stack of files on her desk and pulled Sylvia's
file, handing it up to him. "I've got it right here."
He slipped it under his
arm and nodded. "I'll have it
back to you by tomorrow."
"No problem. I was
just going to file it in pending anyway. Paperwork's up to
date."
"Great. I'll see you
then."
As usual, she couldn't help but watch him walk away. The people
who made those blue jeans really ought to have Colin as their
official spokesman, because no fashion model out there had
an ass like him. No man could do a pair of worn jeans justice
like Colin Maguire. Tall, lean, with well-muscled thighs and
a firm ass she'd sacrifice her pension to hold just once. Preferably
while he was buried deep inside her pussy, pumping away and
making her come until she screamed.
God, she was so pathetic.
