When I was 17, one of the most arrogant boy, scratch that, human, stopped me on my way home from ballet practice. Turned out he was not a boy, but a cop, a rookie one about a couple of years older than me. He thought he was all that, and even swaggered up to my car, a shiny graduation gift from my Grandparents, and made sure I saw his badge. I have to admit, arrogant that he was, he was also extremely handsome. Made me blush and feel hot all over as he gestured for me to roll down my window. It was a hot summer day in Vegas, and I was wearing just a tank top and shorts. He noticed and said that I was going a bit fast, but even worse, I was dressed too revealing that I would be borderline indecent if I walked out of my car and stood up to be frisked. I nearly slapped him. First of all, I was dressed fine, for the weather. Second, I wasn't drunk. Didn't even touch alcohol. I smiled and politely said I wasn't drinking. He didn't believe me, took me into his car, and drove me to the station for testing. I guessed he did his job, but it wasn't just that. I saw him again, outside of his uniform, at the grocery store, after I turned 18, and he smirked at me for picking up some junk food. Great, that too. But it wasn't until after I turned 21, and had returned from college to visit my parents when I saw him at my house. He was much bigger, muscular, and was dressed nicely. "Hi Candace," he said smiling and looking me over appreciatively. He remembered my name. "Your brother, Thomas, invited me for dinner." Thomas came into the room then, and said, "Ken is my mentor at the Police Academy, but he's a good friend, too." So, Ken was his name. It fits him. Handsome, with a British cockney accent, boyish, yet manly. He almost seemed nice. Then he winked at me. That same heat that I felt when I first met him rush through me, and I was blushing, to my horror. To make matters worse, he came over and instead of shaking my hand, pulled me into his broad hard chest for a tight hug. "Great to see you again, Candace. You look more beautiful than I remembered you. And yes, I remembered you. How can any man forget?" With that, his lips barely touched my ear, and I shivered. "Cold?" he asked, pulling back and looking me over. "I can see that. I can do something about that. In no time, you'll be heating up in places you never knew could heat up." Really? "Cocky much?" I asked. "Always," he said, smirking. "Especially when it comes to you."