How To Tango With Tom Collins

Chapter Three

Kat Stephens watched from the front lobby doorway as the tall and lanky police officer emerged from his cruiser and squinted into the blazing sun. Don't let the stereotype that cops always carried a pair of non-reflective aviators with them fool you, she thought to herself. Then again, Hunter St. Clair was hardly your stereotypical NYPD officer. Sure, looks-wise he'd blossomed from his very awkward teen years, when Kat first met him through his sister, but he was still nothing like the rest of his high-flying, hard-partying family. As straight-laced as they came, Hunter was the epitome of the "good cop". Honest, honourable, and fiercely loyal to no end, he was the guy who bought coffee for the homeless and sympathized with the plight of petty criminals.

All of which made his involvement in this whole charade highly intriguing to Kat.

It wasn't Hunter's style at all to get involved in Sophie's elaborate and crazy scheme to concoct a story for her online tabloid magazine. And while she knew this was all for the best for Morgan, she couldn't help but wonder what Hunter's motive was.

God, she really needed to stop being so distrustful of men...

She watched as Hunter turned slowly to investigate the two non-descript black vans that were parked across the street from the apartment complex, shielding his eyes from the sun as he did. She knew as well as he did just exactly who was inside those vans.

A second cruiser pulled up behind Hunter's and the ignition went dead. Ah yes, enter the bad cop, thought Kat, just as the very reason behind her man-issues unfolded his Adonis-like body out of the vehicle. Brandon Smith was the yin to Hunter's yang...or whatever was the evil to someone else's good. So insanely attractive he could literally stop traffic (like they actually had to take him off traffic patrol because of it), Officer Smith was a gorgeous mix of the Barbadian beauty that was his mother and the Irish handsomeness that was his father. His mocha-coloured skin contrasted against the passionate heat of his gorgeous grey eyes, his devastating dimples, and his blindingly brilliant smile.

Yeah, too bad she knew that behind that flawless face lay the mind of a lying, cheating, conniving jerk. Way to perpetrate the stereotype, Officer. She should have just listened all those years ago when Hunter, his best friend since basically birth, told her never to get involved with Brandon Smith. Lesson learned. The hard way.

"Kat?" Came a muffled voice. Startled, she burst out of her anger-filled haze to see both men standing on the other side of the locked front door. "You gonna let us in?"

"S-sorry," she stuttered, fumbling with the handle and finally pushing open the door. Ugh, pull yourself together Kat! Why was she always like this around Brandon? She hated the man and yet every time she saw him she had this insane desire to slap him in the face and then jump into his arms and kiss him better. Oh the things a pretty face will do to a woman.

"Is everything ready to go?" Hunter asked, his enormous 6'2 frame towering in front of her. Even so, she wasn't the least bit intimidated by him or his size and reached up to give the man who had become like a brother to her a hug she so badly right now.

"Yeah, Soph and Ces are upstairs with her. She thinks I went to the store to get more mixer," she explained as she pushed the button for the elevator. "She's absolutely wasted Hunter, so go easy. She's not going to remember most of it anyway."

He nodded at her as a soft ding indicted that the elevator had arrived. Hunter stepped in and held open the door.

"What? No hug for me Stephens?" Brandon said, throwing her a cocky half grin and walking right past her into the elevator, before she had a chance to move. Jerk.

"Screw you Brandon," she said, not loud enough for anyone but her to hear.

*************

Someone was singing. Loudly. Really loudly. The trio could hear the bellows before the elevators even opened on to the sixth floor. They all cringed as the culprit failed at an attempt to hit the high note of some tragic love song made famous by Whitney Houston in the 1980's.

"Well, that sure sounds like a disruption of the peace to me," said Hunter, glancing over at Brandon. "What do you think Officer Smith?"

The other man nodded and laughed. Kat knew he was thinking exactly the same thing as her -- leave it to Hunter to still need an official reason to do shady fake police work.

This possible game plan had been set out weeks ago, a secret agenda by three girls who knew their friend needed to get her life and her self back. And yet, even with dry runs, Kat still found her palms sweating a bit at the thought of all the things that could potentially go wrong. But, as they arrived in front of apartment 607, she knew exactly what she had to do.

As the off-key abomination continued, Kat took one deep breath and reached to push open the door that she had purposely left ajar.

"Ummm, guys?!" She shouted over the blaring music and the terrible singing, while walking into the tiny apartment.

"Hunter?! Brandon?!" Sophie feigned surprise, turning off the music abruptly. "What are you guys doing here?"

Surveying the scene, Kat had the worst urge to laugh but held it in with all her power. Sophie and Cecilee stood in the middle of the room giving their best "deer-in-the-headlight" looks at the fact that two NYPD were standing in the doorway. Morgan, on the other hand, was sprawled out along the couch, drink in hand, still singing her broken little heart out. She didn't notice a thing, not even that the music had disappeared.

With no need to fake any longer, Kat watched as Sophie walked up and leaned over to whisper to her brother.

"Just make it quick. My guys are waiting downstairs and they are getting impatient," she said. "This needs to make the 1pm update." He nodded at her and then at Brandon. Detaching his cuffs from his belt as he walked into the room, he leaned over the wiggling form on the couch for nearly a full minute before Morgan's singing slowed and her eyes popped opened.

"Whaaaaa happened to the mus-" she stared up at the massive male form bent over her, clearly confused. She squinted her gin-infused eyes and suddenly recognition struck. She sat up so quickly she knocked heads with Hunter and simultaneously spilled her drink all down the front of her white t-shirt. Kat bit her lips. Oh god, that was going to look terrible on camera.

"Hunterrrrrr!!! What are you doing here?!" She screeched and jumped up to give him a very wet hug. One hand holding his now-injured forehead and the other still holding the dangling cuffs at his side, Kat watched, with great curiosity, as the expression on his face turned from one of pain into one of longing.

Ah, well now it all makes sense.

And then, in a move only the bad cop could make when the good cop starts to falter, Brandon quickly detached his cuffs from his belt and pulled Morgan's hands from around Hunter's neck. In one swift movement he had them pulled tightly behind her back.

"Morgan Witherow...you are under arrest."