Jameson brought the Vespa to a stop and took off his helmet, motioning for Prandi to do the same.

“That way, it won’t look like we have anything to hide,” he assured her.

Prandi complied, her owl eyes bright with fear. Jameson knew then that he’d do whatever it took to make those eyes smile again.

They waited for what seemed like five minutes for the cop to come out of his car. Jameson turned around and saw the officer was just sitting in his car looking down at something.

“He’s probably looking at sports scores on his phone,” Jameson muttered.

Prandi shushed him. “Shh! I’m trying to think.”

Then the officer came out and walked over to them, a flashlight in his hand. He shined it right into their eyes.

“License and registration.”

Jameson already had these things waiting for him. He had his first line ready to deliver, too. But Prandi beat him to it.

“Officer, we’re really sorry. It’s all my fault.” Jameson looked behind him in disbelief and met a pair of molten liquid eyes that no man could resist.