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is unlikely to happen again.”
    Jared put down his cue and walked over to the bar. He sat on a scarred wooden stool beside his friend.
    “So, what are you going to do?” asked Jared.
    “There’s nothing to do. They’re dead. They won’t be back.”
    “I don’t mean about the demons. I mean about the woman.”
    ****
    Angela stopped at the corner sign and counted silently to three. As she turned onto her street, a motorcycle pulled to a stop behind her. It had been two weeks, and yet every time she saw a motorcycle, her mind jumped to thoughts of Oz. He had been dangerous and charming, and although she tried, he remained unforgettable.
    In shock—from all she had witnessed and from the story which Oz told—when he suggested she should leave, Angela simply walked back in the house, picked up her belongings, and drove away. She still had his shirt, and she wore it often.
    She had spent the last two weeks working, or at least trying to concentrate on work, but her mind kept returning to Oz. Not about the fight or his story about being a demon hunter. As incredible as that all was, she believed everything he said. Even more than the story, her thoughts kept returning to the man.
    She hadn’t thought to ask for Oz’s phone number before she left and his number, as suspected, was not listed.
    Why did it matter? His life, crazy as it was, was a day’s drive away. It was not as if they would go out on dates. He wasn’t the sort of guy that would be interested in internet dating.
    Besides, he had probably forgotten about her the moment she left. Did he feel the same way?
    Unlikely.
    What would a demon hunter want with someone as ordinary as herself?
    Angela parked her car in the narrow driveway and got out.
    The motorcycle pulled up to the curb behind her, and the rider, leaning the bike over on its stand, swung his leg over the bike. He lifted off his helmet and set it on the bike. It hadn’t been her imagination. It really was Oz.
    She was once again awed at the impression he made, leather jacket taut across his broad shoulders, faded jeans that hugged his thick thighs and emphasized the size of his manhood.
    “Hey,” Oz said coming to stand next to her. He had a habit of standing close enough to be in her space, and she wondered again if this were an intentional move on his part to intimidate and influence people. The heat she had felt two weeks ago began to burn through her once again.
    “What are you doing here?” Act casual .
    “Thought a drive to Nevada might be nice.”
    “It’s a bit out of the way for just a drive, isn’t it?”
    “Yeah, but I always wanted to visit Sin City. I thought a change of pace might put a little excitement in my otherwise boring life.” Oz reached up and brushed a piece of hair off her face. She shivered as his fingers caressed her cheek.
    “Are you planning on staying for long?”
    “I’ll have to wait and see,” Oz replied. “For now I thought maybe you might invite me in for dinner.”
    Angela smiled and, turning her back to Oz, unlocked the front door. “Well, I’d invite you in, but to be honest, it isn’t food that I have on my mind right now.”
    “That’s okay,” he said as he followed her through the open door. “I think dinner is the most overrated meal of the day.”
    A word about the author...
    Charlotte Copper lives in Stouffville, Ontario—that’s in Canada, eh—with her husband, daughter, and two part-time stepdaughters. When she isn’t working at her full-time job or driving her daughter around for volleyball, Charlotte likes to craft, read, go to movies, and, of course, write.
    Charlotte admittedly tries to juggle far too many balls at once while working on a series of (mostly paranormal) romance stories. Charlotte hopes to have all of these stories published some day because, as a romance writer, she believes in happy endings!
    You can visit her website at:
    http://charlottecopperauthor.wordpress.com
    or contact her