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everything.”
    “Yeah, well. Just part of the job.”
    She thought it might be more than that and wondered if he did, too. “Stay safe,” she said.
    “As safe as I can be,” he replied and disconnected.
    Her thoughts raced back to the bridge. If the rain squall hadn’t hit at that moment, would she have made a complete idiot of herself? Thoughts of dark hair and chiseled features kicked her heart rate into overdrive.
    This was so not good.
    She’d bet money that a long-haul kind of guy lurked beneath all that bluster. Trouble was, she wasn’t a long-haul kind of gal. Relationships were a distraction and simply did not figure into her foreseeable future. Brett Lincoln might be someone to build a life with, but she she’d be moving on soon.
    Space Tech had given her a huge promotion, moved her across the country, provided a house to live in and a thousand other perks. In exchange, the company expected results. Positive ones. Results that hurricanes and hunky cops threatened to undermine.
    The timing couldn’t be worse. She shook her head.
    Cocoa Beach’s finest might as well be wrapped in crime scene tape labeled Police Line, Do Not Cross. Her commitment to Space Tech was the only relationship she could afford. Her career—and her future—depended on it.
    She stifled a groan as a fresh crop of splatters hit the windshield. Dreaming of the unattainable was not going to keep her safe. She got out of the car and dashed through the rain to a wide covered walkway where smokers had congregated. Spindly legs pumping and torn canvas sneakers splashing through puddles, a woman whose polyester shirt ended at midthigh over a pair of biking shorts headed toward Stephanie before she had a chance to shake the drops from her umbrella. The woman aimed a nicotine-stained thumb toward a set of oversize double doors and blew smoke and information with the same breath.
    “The registration desk is just inside, but you might want to unload your car first. Looks like we’re gonna get wet and there’s no tellin’ when it’ll let up again. You want some help?”
    Stephanie glanced from the woman to the rapidly darkening sky and back to the ID badge that lay nearly horizontal across her ample chest.
    “Sure, Judy,” she said. “That’d be nice.”
    Judy Evers kept the monologue flowing between puffs until they reached the car. “You can fill out a form and leave it on the table. Rules are on the table, too. Just pick a spot anywhere and spread out your stuff. You’re too late for dinner, but there’s sandwiches in the kitchen if you’re starving.” She bent to dip the nub of her smoke in a nearby puddle and rubbed the butt between her fingers until it flaked as Stephanie opened the trunk.
    Judy took a quick look. “You’re not going to take all this stuff inside?”
    It was not a question Stephanie knew how to answer. “Brett, um…The police said not to leave anything important at the house. Too much, huh?”
    “There’s not a lot of room,” Judy cautioned. “And you have to watch your stuff, though we don’t have too many problems. Those file boxes will probably be just as safe in your car as they would be inside. That a laptop?” She paused long enough for Stephanie to give a brief nod. “Leave it here unless you’re prepared to watch it every second.”
    So much for getting some work done while she waited out the storm. “Fine,” she said. “Whatever you think.” It had been a long, tiring day. If she couldn’t work, she’d settle for someplace safe and quiet until the danger passed.
    “You got a pillow? A blanket?” Judy asked.
    “Oh, yeah,” she said, remembering. While she retrieved the bedroll from her backseat, Judy grabbed a few things from the trunk and splashed through puddles toward the school.
    Stephanie eyed the manicure stand swinging from the woman’s grasp. How on earth had that gotten into the car? Thinking back, she realized she had succumbed to hurricane mania at the end there,