Safe in His Arms. Dana Corbit

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СКАЧАТЬ first, and if that didn’t work, he had his sergeant for backup. But what was he supposed to do now? He’d never been good with women when they cried. If Lindsay started, he might say anything to get her to stop.

      “I wish there was something I could do,” he began, not knowing what else to say.

      “There is something.” She looked up from the desk, an intensity that had been missing before now filling her eyes. “You could answer a few questions for me about that day. Fill in some of the blanks.”

      “Are you sure you want to know?”

      Her gaze narrowed at him. “Of course I am.”

      Was it reflex or just plain cowardice that made him look at his watch then? So much for the Rossetti legacy of bravery on the force. Still, he had a job to do, and he already should have been out on patrol, discouraging drivers from turning Interstate 96 into the Autobahn.

      “I’m late right now, but we could set up an appointment …” He let his words trail away as he gestured toward the radio room.

      “That’s fine.” With jerky movements, she stood and grabbed her cane for balance. “But if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could I ask just one question now?”

      “Okay.”

      Technically, she was already asking one, and another would make it two. Joe didn’t point that out, but he didn’t sit again, either. Instead, he reached out a hand to her, signaling that their meeting was ending.

      Lindsay traded the cane to her left hand and leaned on it for balance as they shook hands. Small. Fragile. She pulled her hand away quickly, as if she refused to let him see her vulnerability, and she trapped him in her steady gaze. At a willowy five-feet-nine, she barely had to tilt her head up to look him in the eye.

      He cleared his throat. “Your question?”

      Her bravado must have faltered, because she stared at her hands before looking up at him again.

      “Why did you save me instead of her?”

      Lindsay stared out the window at the patrol car that scattered gravel as it raced from the parking lot, its red light spinning and its siren blaring. From the look on Trooper Rossetti’s face when she’d asked the question, she wondered if he would have run from the squad room if his radio hadn’t beeped right then, giving him an excuse to go.

      “Sorry about that,” the front-desk lady who’d buzzed her in earlier said now that Lindsay was out front again. “You never know when a call is going to come in.”

      “Oh, no problem.”

      She glanced out the window to the parking lot again. Maybe it hadn’t been the best question to ask first—she should have warmed up to it—but Trooper Rossetti had looked as shocked as he might have if she’d pulled a gun on him. The reaction was extreme. Was there something about the night of the accident that he didn’t want to tell her?

      “I’m Clara Morrison. I can help you.” The woman glanced down at her desktop computer and started clicking through several screens. “Now, Miss Collins, Trooper Rossetti said you wanted to set up an appointment to speak with him further. When would be best for you?”

      “Later today?”

      Clara grinned, obviously getting the wrong idea about why Lindsay might want an appointment with the young police officer. She wanted to clear that up right away.

      “I’m only here about a traffic accident he investigated.”

      “Of course.” As Clara turned back to the screen, the side of her mouth lifted.

      Lindsay couldn’t blame the woman for not buying her story. Even as focused as she’d been on getting him to answer her questions, she’d still had her eyes open when she’d met Trooper Rossetti. No woman with her eyes open could have failed to notice his shiny, dark brown eyes and heavy fringe of even darker lashes. And that perfectly formed mouth and straight white teeth would have been hard to miss.

      Guys like him were hired to play cops on TV, not to strap on the holster and dodge bullets for real. Delia would have called him “a hunk,” and Lindsay would have been too awkward around him to even speak, if this had been a social situation. It wasn’t.

      “My sister died in that accident.”

      Immediately, Lindsay was sorry for being so blunt, and she felt even guiltier when the woman glanced over at her with a compassionate look on her face.

      “I’m so sorry.”

      “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said it that way.” She shook her head. “I just can’t recall much about that day, and I’d hoped that Trooper Rossetti could fill in some of the details.”

      “I’m sure he’ll try.” Clara turned back to the computer, scanning down through an appointment schedule. “How about at thirteen hundred—one o’clock—tomorrow?”

      Not the best time, but Lindsay would try to work with it. “So I’ll meet him here?”

      Clara nodded and then turned back to her screen. “I’ll get a message out to him.”

      “Thanks.” Lindsay tucked the papers she’d brought with her back into her purse and settled it on her shoulder. Then, retrieving her cane, she started toward the door.

      “Miss Collins,” Clara called after her and waited until she looked back at her. “Have you ever considered that you might be better off not remembering every detail of your accident? That knowing might only cause more pain?”

      “Yes, I’ve thought about that. I’ve been thinking about that for the past six months.” Lindsay chewed the side of her lower lip and then straightened and nodded. She could do this; she owed it to Delia. She would get this right for her sake. “And I still want to know.”

       Chapter Two

      Joe leaned against the counter in the radio room, crossing his arms and his ankles and putting on his best frown. He didn’t know why he bothered trying to look annoyed when Clara was so obviously ignoring him as she tapped away on her keyboard.

      “Why did you set this up on my day off, anyway?” Her shoulder lifted and dropped, but she didn’t turn back to him. “What else did you have to do this afternoon?”

      “I’m sure I could have found something.” Joe glanced down at his khaki shorts and striped polo shirt as he stepped out into the visitor area. He felt out of place without his uniform and the air of authority that came with it. The idea of meeting with Lindsay Collins today didn’t sit well with him, but he had no one to blame but himself for agreeing to it. He had to admit, though, that he would have agreed to anything yesterday to avoid the question Lindsay had asked him. Even to delay it. “Pretty, isn’t she?” “I hadn’t noticed.” Or tried not to. And failed.

      “You noticed, all right. It’s about time you started noticing again. At thirty-four, you—”

      “If you’re about to mention my biological clock, you can stop right there. Wrong gender.”

      “You said it. I СКАЧАТЬ