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high. A note from one of his “brothers” at the station? Nah, they’d have called. Something about a letter in his door struck him as strange. Whoever put it there hadn’t seen fit to simply ring the doorbell and talk to him in person? The fact didn’t rest easy.
    He paused. Almost got off the bike to fetch it.
    No. For personal business or pleasure, anyone who mattered knew how to reach him. The envelope could wait. He had more important places to be.
    A very special lady to impress.
    Smiling, he lowered the visor, opened the throttle, and let the horses run. As he reached the end of the street, a glimpse in his rearview mirror gave him a start. For a second, he could’ve sworn he’d spotted a figure standing in the shade of the oak tree in his front yard.
    At the stop sign, he braked and whipped his head around.
    Arson, murder, sleep and sex deprivation, strange envelopes, and now hallucinations. There was no one under the damned tree, but . . .
    The ominous foreboding returned.
    Like he’d been strapped into a car with no brakes and pushed toward a cliff. His life, about to spiral out of control, a phantom calling the shots.
    With one major difference. He was no longer the starving, beaten little mouse he’d been as a kid. These days, any fool who wanted a piece of Howard Paxton would receive a proper attitude adjustment.
    Trouble?
    Bring it on.
    Throwing back the covers, Kat leapt out of bed and dashed for the closet. Thirty minutes! Was Howard really so eager to see her again he couldn’t wait for a girl to look halfway decent? Or maybe half an hour seemed an eternity to a man used to hitting the door in thirty seconds. Making split-second decisions that saved lives.
    Pawing through her jeans, she decided the second explanation suited the lieutenant better. He didn’t strike her as a rash person, but a steady rock. In complete control. A man who set his sights on a goal and followed through, no fuss. Wishful thinking? Maybe, but based on their brief, pleasant encounter last night, albeit under awful circumstances, she didn’t think so.
    As a teacher, she spent hours on end working with the varying personalities of students, parents, and staff. She liked to believe that over these first five years of her fledgling career, she’d become pretty good at reading people.
    Every instinct told her that with Howard, what you see is what you get.
    And so far, Kat liked what she saw.
    Excitement rippled through her, settling as a quivering bubble in her tummy. Yeah, the man might end up being a toad, turn the nice fizzy feeling to acid indigestion, but so what? That was the risk anyone took when getting to know someone new, and something told her Howard was worth a Hail Mary.
    Chewing her lip in indecision, she finally selected a pair of old, comfortable jeans. They were broken in, faded but not frayed, and hugged her full figure in gentle curves without looking painted on. Next, she jerked a green babydoll T-shirt off the hanger and held it up, debating. The color complemented her eyes, and the shirt, her favorite, sported the winged Aerosmith logo across the chest in dark print.
    The clingy T-shirt emphasized her generous breasts, creating the impression that “the girls” might take flight, wings and all. Rod—what an unfortunate, ironic name—had hated the shirt. Or rather, the stares that somehow never found her face when she wore it.
    The few painful months with Rod had been a real eye-opener. When they met, she hadn’t had a lot of experience with men, save her own family. Still didn’t. The men in her family cherished their women, adored them. Rod put on a good front, at first.
    Then came the friendly “suggestions” concerning her appearance. Your clothes are too tight, Katherine. Darling, you know I love you, but you just don’t have the figure to carry off what you’re wearing. Really, hip huggers and a belly button ring ?
    She gave an inch, and he quickly graduated to criticism. His constant