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time, he jumped out of his door and raced around the hood, grasping her by the upper arms as she stood.
    “Isabelle,” he said. “Just stop for a second. Think. You can’t go back through that crowd.”
    “I’m not,” she hissed, yanking herself free from him.
    “So your car is parked out here somewhere,” he said, gesturing to the dark street around them. “Where?”
    “I don’t have a car,” she said, not looking at him as she tried to back up and head toward the sidewalk.
    “You what? ” he said, easily sidestepping and blocking her path.
    She stopped and pushed at his chest.
    “I don’t have a car,” she said, finally looking up at him. “So if you’ll get out of my way, I’ve got a long way to go.”
    Dumbfounded, he almost let her pass when she tried again. But then he sidestepped again.
    “So you’re just going to walk home. Wherever that is.”
    Exasperated, she hugged herself around the middle again.
    “I’m going to take the bus,” she said. “The Metro Two. Downtown. And they don’t run all night.”
    “The bus? ” he said, incredulous. “You’re taking the bus? Who would–”
    She tried to get around him again. This time he held her by the shoulders and stared down into her face. She was mad, tired, and, he finally realized, completely serious. She was walking to a bus stop. 
    “Okay,” he said quietly. “Okay.” He looked up and down the sidewalk. “Look. I’m not from LA but even I know it’s not a great time to be taking public transportation. Let me give you a ride.”
    She shook her head and had been about to say something.
    “Isabelle,” he said, holding her firmly and noticing for the first time how close they were standing. “I’m not taking no for an answer. We’re both tired and I don’t even have a hotel yet. It’s been a long day, for both of us. Just let me take you home.”
    To his surprise, she took a deep breath, held it for a few beats, then finally exhaled and nodded. They were both tired. He opened the door and held it for her and, once she was inside, he got behind the wheel. This time, they both put on their seat belts.
    “All right,” he said, checking the mirrors and backing into the street. “Which way?”

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER FIVE
     
    It was only eight o’clock but it seemed like midnight to Isabelle. As they pulled in front of her building, it felt like she hadn’t been there in a week. She could almost feel the gloves coming off as she walked through the front door.
    “ This is your neighborhood?” Mac asked, looking up at the building through the windshield.
    Except for directions, the ride back had been blissfully quiet. She’d tried to still her mind and put away the images from her readings. But the tone in Mac’s voice bothered her.
    “We don’t all get to live in Bel Air,” she said. “Thanks for the ride.”
    She opened her door and Mac immediately did the same and turned off the engine. 
    “You don’t have to do that,” she said, pausing. “I can see myself up.”
    “Of course you can,” he said getting out. “But that’s not going to happen.” 
    His long strides had him at her door in moments and, as he held it for her, and she got out, she glanced up at the building and actually looked at it for a change, the way that Mac had done.
    At least it was dark. The building, the street, the whole neighborhood looked worse in daylight.
    None of her clients knew where she lived. Though she’d told herself that it was to preserve her privacy it was really so they didn’t see this. As her savings had slowly dwindled, she’d moved to worse and worse sections of town. In fact, she had a car. It was parked in the narrow little garage under her unit. She just couldn’t afford to fix it. Her clients came to her through word of mouth and she had a good solid base of regulars, but it was still LA, where even a one-bedroom without air conditioning was an arm and a leg. The neighborhood was yet another reason