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her out of the blue. Why would such a wealthy and respected lawyer want to do such a thing? Dismayed, she answered her own question with ease. Her father had somehow set him up to it. That was why he’d appeared while she had been on her bike and again at the diner, and that was what “LA was more than I bargained for” had meant. Yet was there the possibility that she was wrong? That Charles Vernon had an agenda of his own that had nothing to do with her? He hadn’t shown any signs of recognition when he’d arrived at the diner or when she’d waited on him. And if he was carrying out her father’s orders, which did sound farfetched, why hadn’t he said something to her and dragged her onto the first plane back to Maine? None of it fitted together. Maybe she had the wrong puzzle.
    Roxie finished her Coke and glanced at her wristwatch. She still had some time left before she had to return to work. And it was really hot outside. Her own body temperature skyrocketed as she thought about the hard-packed muscles under Charles’ shirt and shorts. Oh, yummy! She could take him a cold drink to slake his thirst. His throat had to be parched under the summer sun beating down on him. It wouldn’t take long.
    Her mind made up, she rose, paid for an ice-cold Coke and rushed toward Charles. The can began to sweat, although it felt good in her hand. She wondered if she should ask what he was doing sitting in the direct sun? Was that how he got his work done? Not likely.
    She jaywalked across three of the four lanes, dodging several speeding vehicles. Why was everyone in such a hurry? Couldn’t they respect the fact that there was no crosswalk for over two blocks?
    Had Charlie spotted her? His head was turned away from her and she couldn’t tell whether he could see her, with his sunglasses darkening his eyes. As she began to cross the lane nearest the bus stop, a sharp, insistent blaring drew her attention. A huge semi was roaring right toward her.
    She froze in mid-motion.
     
    Sweat trickled down Charlie’s spine and he swore his shirt was wetter than if he’d showered in it. He turned his head to glance at a passing sedan with tinted windows and wondered if the occupants were cool inside. Private eyes did surveillance all the time in such inhospitable environments. He backhanded beads of perspiration from his forehead but to no avail. He had to admire the several PIs he knew and worked with for hanging out in such awful conditions. He’d shadowed many people over the few years when he’d been putting himself through law school, but that had been a while back.
    His shaded gaze returned to the diner and his heart leaped into his throat. Roxie, with a bright red Coke can, was making her way through the rush-hour traffic in his direction. He remained seated, his thighs tense and his neck muscles tightening with dread. Where was she going and why across four lanes filled with crazy drivers?
    He caught her taking a quick look at him from below lowered lashes. Was she headed toward him? A bright blue eighteen-wheeler in his peripheral vision drew his glance for a brief second. Then the world segued into slow motion. The semi bore down on Roxie, who had frozen in her tracks, a look of pure terror on her lovely face. Charlie had mere seconds. He sprang to his feet, hurtled across the truck’s path, and barely pushed the waitress out of the way in time. A strong wind current whipped them both. The Coke can lay crushed on the hot pavement. Dark brown liquid poured out as if it were blood. The sweat on his body chilled in the abruptly cool air as he held Roxie against his chest, his arms around her slender waist. Miraculously, they were standing rather than lying on the ground. Vehicles in their lane and one over came to a standstill while in the other two cars crawled by.
    “Are you okay?” he asked into Roxie’s hair, afraid to look into her face or at her trembling body. He couldn’t stand it if she were injured.
    “I think