Suspect Passions Read Online Free

open and she’d be swallowed by the workday before embarrassment completely consumed her.
    The officer stepped closer and whispered, “Like what I see.”
    Regan’s heart thumped wildly against the walls of her chest. She felt rattled. Heat flushed her cheeks and she knew her reaction was evident on her face. She moved closer to the doors and, mercifully, they opened with a swish. As she exited the elevator she heard a soft chuckle behind her and some comment about her ass. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear Izzy had put the Irish moxie on every woman in her path lately just to get a rise out of her. First the immodest couple in the bar, now this officer who thought it was okay to flirt with someone she didn’t know in a public workplace.
    But having a police officer come on to her so blatantly was a different twist, and it felt unsettling. Regan usually made the first move if she liked a woman. She was assertive and adept at handling any situation, verbally and physically. It wasn’t like her to be surprised and, she had to admit, excited, by a total stranger.
    Her thoughts returned to the woman in the club restroom. Like the officer, she was a brunette, but her hair had been drenched in perspiration and swept back from her face. They both had firm, curvy bodies, the kind that said they were all woman and took care of themselves. Their attitudes were also similar, bold and unafraid. And like the pub crawler, the officer gave off the vibes of a woman on the prowl, always ready for her next conquest and never really having to work for it. Women like that considered fidelity a nuisance and would probably lobby to have the word removed from the English language.
    Heat gathered between Regan’s legs as she reached her desk and plopped into the swivel chair. She could not understand why her reaction to both women had been so visceral. Whatever the reason, she needed to enjoy the fantasy for what it was, the momentary diversion of a sex-starved divorcee. She was disciplined, she could redirect her energy to her work. But the tingling in her crotch as it strained against the seam of her slacks let her know that would be easier said than done.

    *

    Syd chuckled and propped her foot against the elevator door as it started to close. She couldn’t resist the urge to watch Miss Friday Night Snob strut off in righteous indignation after being caught looking again. “Nice ass,” she said as the doors slid shut, blocking her view of the gorgeous pinstripe-covered bottom.
    She’d recognized the blond voyeur from the bar as soon as she’d entered the elevator, and had tugged her hat down to shield her eyes. The last thing she needed was a city employee reminding her of her private indiscretion in a public facility. She wasn’t sure if the woman recognized her or not, but Syd couldn’t forget the icicles those blue eyes had scraped across her postorgasmic skin. There had been something in their depths that called to Syd in a haunting, almost pleading way.
    But that look had been fleeting, quickly replaced by disbelief and eventually distaste. Upon closer inspection today, Syd decided the tall, androgynous prude might not be so genteel after all. Anyone who would openly scope out another woman in a public elevator had to have some sexual virtues. And her voice. The moment she spoke, Syd was captivated. Her tone was sanguine and inviting, the kind of voice you wanted urging you on during sex.
    Something else about this woman attracted Syd. Perhaps it was her not-too-femme appearance, or her air of assertiveness, or just the sense that she was ripe for a foray into her untapped sexual treasure chest. Blondie gave off all those vibes and more, the more being cause for hesitation. This woman’s restraint was the result of pain, deep and unresolved. Syd recognized the look. The same one haunted her any time she’d gazed into a mirror the past eight months. The stranger couldn’t hide that kind of hurt, not with her confident