Page 15 of Craig

“That’s a deal breaker. Dylan will have questions and trust me, you don’t want him wondering. He’s a cop and he knows how to find things out. We also happen to be very close.”

“I had no idea you had a brother.” He realized that during the time they had spent together, they hadn’t done much talking.

“Same daddy, different mother. Daddy is still alive.”

“Will you have to inform him as well?”

“Nope. We don’t communicate.”

Before he could ask more questions, she stuck out her hand. “We have a deal.”

“We do?”

“Yep.”

Grinning, he grasped her hand and shook, letting go instantly. “He wants to meet you.”

Chapter 3

With his office door open, Dylan had an unrestricted view of his bullpen. The commotion caught his attention and had him sighing.

He should have known. Pushing away the file he had been perusing, he sat back and watched as his sister charmed the men in blue.

It was certainly not the first time. And chiding her about coming to the precinct wearing one of her outrageous designs was going to cause a riot.

She was also armed with two boxes of donuts. She certainly knew how to get their attention.

When the noise level increased, he decided it was time to intervene. Pushing back his chair, he rose and strolled from his office into the general area.

And wasn't surprised that no one noticed him.

"I'm assuming crime did not take a holiday. The break is over. Mason, stop ogling my sister's breasts and get me the file I asked for. Stevenson, if I don't see your hand moving away from her thigh, you're going to be in big trouble."

He turned to Regina, who was sitting on Stevenson's desk, long legs crossed, the skirt, if it could be called that, slipping to show skin.

"Get off the desk and into my office. Christ, Gina, could you be more obvious?"

"All right, boys. You heard the boss. Get back to work."

Sliding off gracefully, she blew kisses and preceded him into the office. Closing the door behind him, Dylan sent her a baleful glance before going to sit on the edge of his desk.

"I saved a cruller for you."

"That's not going to work." His eyes wandered over the sheer hot pink lace of her blouse.

The skirt was a rust brown linen with thigh-high slits on both sides. Strappy sandals completed the outfit.

Her locks were piled on top of her head in a careless knot. Bangles were piled high on both wrists.

"I had to talk to you."

"The phone works and I don't have time. You do this deliberately."

For some reason, he was angry. He had seen the way his men eyed her like a piece of meat, and it bothered him.

"Why the hell don't you start wearing clothes?" He got up to pace the length of his desk.

"You're twenty-eight years old and walk around like a hormonal teenager. When the hell are you going to grow up?"