Passion Patrol 2 - a Sexy Police Romance Suspense Novel With a Touch of Humor: Hot Cops. Hot Crime. Hot Romance. by Emma Calin Read Free Book Online

mother,” he said.
    Shannon nodded, taking in the presence of her, even as a painting.
    “Beautiful,” she said.
    “And that can never fade now,” he replied.
    “Beauty doesn’t fade, Spencer. It gives up the crap, goes underground, and has more fun.”
    “Oh,” he replied, obviously expecting a more serious response.
    “Life is beautiful,” she added, knowing she could tread on his toes here. No way was she going to let him wallow on her time.
    “Did you always think that on the streets of Brixton?” he asked.
    “I never thought it was ugly. There was never a day without smiles and music.”
    He seemed to accept her attitude and moved on. She knew she’d been a bit brash. In truth Brixton had often seemed bleak but she would play the irritating optimist rather than join him in building some untouchable icon.
    He swung open huge cast iron French windows that gave onto a flagstoned terrace. In the center was a table set for tea. He held back her chair and she sat down. The view was of an enormous flat lawn. In the corner was a thatched pavilion and a cricket scoreboard. Beyond the field was the tower of a church partially obscured by tall ancient oak trees. One workman was rolling the pitch while two others were completing the laying of a boundary rope. She handed him the birthday card from her handbag. He seemed astonished.
    “It was your birthday yesterday,” she said.
    He reached into his pocket and drew out a Swiss Army knife. He carefully slit the envelope.
    “You don’t just rip it open then?” she teased.
    “You don’t hit a nail with a screwdriver,” he said as he read her words. He beamed a smile. “Thank you so much, Shannon. Saskia made a big thing of birthdays. Without her, you know, it doesn’t seem right.”
    She didn’t want to follow his sentiment.
    “They don’t do cards about welders. There’s not too many rhymes,” she said, looking at the cricket field.
    “There’s a match on Sunday. It’ll be the Bloxington Eleven against a team from Jasmine’s legal chambers and their clients. God, I hope we win. Do you care for cricket, Shannon?”
    She chose not to remind him that her father was from Antigua and there was no option but to love cricket.
    “I adore cricket and this is England,” she said, sweeping her arm at the gentle green panorama.
    “Do you think so, Shannon?”
    “Yeah. It’s picture postcard England. If I were a tourist this stuff would sell it to me,” she said.
    “I hope you like cakes,” he said.
    “Love them. I’ve worked off the calories today according to my app.”
    Spencer frowned.
    “Pardon? I’m not sure....”
    “I’ve got a new phone app to count my food intake. It’s great. Have you found any good apps?” she said, knowing full well she was being disingenuous and provocative.
    “Apps? Ben has apps,” he said.
    “Whatever makes you ‘appy,’” she said, smiling broadly and watching him wince at the pun.
    “I think you’re teasing. Do you think I’m a bit old fashioned?” he said.
    “Spencer, you know you are.”
    He smiled back.
    “I suppose it’s deliberate isn’t it. I believe in tradition and quality,” he said.
    “I guess that can be expensive,” she replied.
    “Oh yes. Being an 11th earl doesn’t come with a salary I’m afraid.”
    “You have a day job?”
    “Yes. I’m a director of Chamberlain, Reed, and Rush.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Commodity trading—metals, fruit, coffee, tea....” he began.
    “Ooh, so you can get me some Yorkshire Gold.”
    “Er, no ... we don’t trade in that kind of way. We sell to the chaps who create your Yorkshire Gold. But, we do deal in gold,” he said seriously.
    Shannon laughed and put a hand onto his arm.
    “I know, Spencer. I was being a minx again.”
    His eyes crinkled up at the corners.
    “I thought you were and anyway, minx isn’t your kind of word,” he said.
    “I know. I caught it from you. But I love it,” she said.
    She gave his arm a last pat, which was