Here’s a little teaser from my story The Arresting Officer in the Ultimate Uniforms anthology. The heroine, Imogen, has been trying to save a local tree from destruction by climbing up it and refusing to move. Now it’s up to the police to get her down.

“Imogen!’ he shouts. He knows my name. And I know his voice. Oh my God, oh, no way, no way, no”¦ My shriek of terror rends the air as the branch begins to creak, then to peel slowly and sickeningly away from the tree trunk. The identity of the policeman is forgotten, chased from my brain by the classic life-flashing-before-me sequence. There is crashing, slipping, plunging, scratching of twigs and then arms, strong, male arms breaking my fall, slowing me down to a perfect landing until I am lying on the ground in the tight embrace of a burly uniformed man, my mouth gasping and shrieking into his stab vest.

“I’m alive,’ I gibber, raising my head to stare at”¦oh God, this is so incredibly random”¦Jason Sargent, my Year Eleven boyfriend.

“Yes. But you might not be, by the time I’ve finished with you,’ he says grimly, hauling me to my reluctant feet and encircling my elbow in a strong grip. “Come on.’

“It’s you,’ I say, rather unnecessarily. “And you’re a”¦’ I swallow down the insulting epithet on the tip of my tongue and replace it with, “police officer.’

“Yep,’ he says, marching me off through the woodland paths, leaving the others to do Press Liaison.

“Weird. What happened to you? You were the one who persuaded me to join Greenpeace. And now you’re with”¦the opposition.’

“I’m not “with the opposition” at all.’ I remember that long-suffering, frustrated tone. He used to do it all the time when we were arguing about Science homework. He was usually right, but I just couldn’t concede. “I still have my own beliefs and principles. I just prefer to express them within the law. Unlike you. You think you’re above the law, don’t you? You always did.’

“No!’ I lie. “I can’t believe you want that tree chopped down! You”¦don’t you remember? That tree”¦’

“Yes,’ he sighs. “I remember.’

Our first kiss, playing hookey from the cross-country run, holding hands and laughing all the way to the oaks. He wasn’t averse to breaking a rule or two back then.

“If it helps, Imogen, I don’t want them to bulldoze the Spinney either. I’ve written letters of protest to the planning committee and the local paper. But I know that climbing a tree and shouting a slogan isn’t going to change anything.’

“It can do!’

“No it can’t.’

We are at his car now, on the edge of the woodland in a layby close to the bulldozers.

“Where’s your partner?’ I ask him, noting that it is empty. “I thought you guys only worked in pairs?’

“I’d just dropped him off when I took this call,’ he said. “Officially, I’m Off Duty. But when the radio came through, I had this funny feeling”¦’

He turns and gives me the high-beam head-to-toe once-over. It makes me want to shiver. He looks stern, and yet wistful, and yet exasperated, and yet a little bit like he might still be interested in me. All in all, it’s a dynamite combination of expressions, and the full cop regalia is quite the opposite of a turn-off as well. Fancy having to wear a stab vest. How manly. And he has little epaulettes on his shoulder ““ I guess he is some kind of ranking babylonian.

“Jason Sargent, all grown up,’ I say slowly, relishing the words almost as much as I relish the sight of him in that uniform, black and white and hot all over. Something important occurs to me. “Oh my God, are you a Sergeant? Sergeant Sargent?’

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t start. I’ve heard it all before. Promoted last week, so every single deathless witticism is fresh in my memory.’

Something else important occurs to me. “So, um, am I under arrest?’

“You do not have to say anything,’ he says, and I gasp with horror. “But I’ll be bloody flabbergasted, knowing you, if you don’t.’ My breath catches up with me. He is joking. Catch yourself on, Imojims. Oh. Imojims. That’s what he used to call me. Nobody else has called me that in the intervening eight years since I snogged another boy at the post-GCSE disco. “No, I don’t think I’m going to charge you,’ he says, leaning back against the car and frowning at me. “Though I am tempted. What on earth were you thinking, Imogen? What are you ever thinking?’

At the moment I’m thinking”¦do you have handcuffs? So that’s what I say.

He shakes his head, staring at me, almost through me, with limpid lustrous eyes of blue.

“Of course I have handcuffs. Do you have a brain?’

Yeah, but it’s located a bit further south than usual just now. I don’t say that one out loud.

“I think I must have lost it, to dump you for Robbie Manning.’

He shuts his eyes for a long, long moment. Lovely spidery eyelashes.

“All right, Imogen,’ he says robustly, opening his eyes again, back to Action Man in full effect. “I’m arresting you for wanton flirtation with an officer of the law. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Or in bed. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Evidence that you want me to abuse my position of authority and perform acts of”¦what’s the word”¦?’

“Lewd behaviour?’

“Yeah, exactly. Lewd behaviour. Acts of lewd behaviour. Upon your person. Is that a fair summary?’

“It’s a fair cop, guv.’ ”

Hope you enjoyed that! Thanks for reading.