officer was glaring toward the news truck, then glancing over his
shoulder at the site across the street, already distracted, his mind back on his
job.
“I’m so sorry I took you away from your work,” she told him. “I promise I’l
stick to the sidewalk from now on.”
He nodded absently. “Yeah, you do that, please. Have a good day, ma’am.”
“You, too,” she said. “And thanks again.”
“Take care now,” he said; then he turned, looked both ways, and jogged
across the street. He immediately engaged in a serious conversation with a
uniformed police officer, forgetting about her and her near miss.
But Olivia had the feeling she wasn’t going to soon forget him. Not only
because he’d saved her life but also because he’d done it without even
thinking about it, without giving a thought for his own safety. He’d been
decisive and powerful, forceful and strong. She wasn’t used to being around
such men, men who could easily swoop in at a dangerous moment, pick a
woman up in his arms and carry her away as if she weighed next to nothing.
Like a hero, a real one.
“You’re watching too many romantic movies,” she mumbled. “He’s just a
man.”
No, he wasn’t. He was the man who’d saved her from a lot of pain or worse
and whose name she didn’t even know.
It doesn’t matter; you’ll never see him again, she told herself as she got in
her car, determined to drive straight to work without any more detours.
Somehow, though, she didn’t find her own words comforting. In fact, she
found them pretty damn depressing.
Chapter 2
Though the week had started out badly, it was finishing off pretty wel . First of
al , Olivia had had no more bad dreams since Monday morning. Second, she
and the rest of the eXtreme Investigations team had helped solve a case
involving a missing woman. And third, it was almost the weekend, and she
hadn’t had one additional near-death experience—hers or anyone else’s.
No, not a bad week at al .
“Especial y considering you started it by almost becoming roadkil ,” she
mumbled as she finished showering Friday morning.
She’d thought about the near miss several times, though she hadn’t
mentioned it to anyone. Not only because she stil felt foolish about walking out
in front of a speeding car but also because of that strange, urgent compulsion
that had drawn her to the scene of the fire.
Then, of course, there had been that good-looking cop who’d saved her.
She would have liked to have met him under different circumstances and
wished she’d gotten his name. At the very least, she’d like to replace his
sunglasses, dol ar store or not. She’d been keeping an eye on TV news
stories about the case but hadn’t seen him in any of the coverage. A couple of
cops had been quoted in the paper, but there were no clues that would help
her identify the man who’d saved her life.
Nor had the articles contained much additional information about the crime
itself. So far, the police had been pretty closemouthed about the case, beyond
final y acknowledging that there had, indeed, been human remains found on
the site.
Frankly, she’d feel better when those remains were identified, so she could
stop this crazy wondering that had plagued her since Monday.
“Best to just let it go,” she told herself. Looking back on it, that weird urge
she’d had to go down there the other day seemed more than a little ridiculous,
not to mention embarrassing.
Wrapping her hair in a towel and donning a robe, she headed downstairs to
the kitchen, needing a cup of coffee to get her going. It was a bright, sunny
morning, sunlight spil ing through the bank of windows running across the
width of the kitchen. Poindexter had already staked out his favorite spot on the
windowsil . When she’d gotten out of bed, he’d been sleeping on her pil ow.
Now he was sleeping in a shaft of sunlight, the key word being sleeping .
“Feels good, doesn’t it,