Книга - Christmastime Courtship

Christmastime Courtship
Marie Ferrarella


Stop…in the name of love!What kind of motorcycle cop gives a speeding ticket around Christmas? One as by the book as Colin Kirby. But when he stops pediatric oncology nurse Miranda Steele, little does he know that she's about to zoom straight into his heart. Or that the Matchmaking Mamas have the unlucky-in-love pair straight in their sights…After a childhood tragedy, bright-as-sunshine Miranda's used to making the best of any situation. So she knows the handsome policeman represents an opportunity: he needs to visit her sick kids at the hospital. But Miranda quickly realizes the closed-off Colin is in need of her help just as much as any of those she volunteers for. And she's determined to work her way into his heart this holiday season.







Stop...in the name of love

What kind of motorcycle cop gives a speeding ticket around Christmas? One as by the book as Colin Kirby. But when he stops pediatric oncology nurse Miranda Steele, little does he know that she’s about to zoom straight into his heart. Or that the Matchmaking Mamas have the unlucky-in-love pair straight in their sights...

After a childhood tragedy, bright-as-sunshine Miranda’s used to making the best of any situation. So she knows the handsome policeman represents an opportunity: he needs to visit her sick kids at the hospital. But Miranda quickly realizes the closed-off Colin is in need of her help just as much as any of those she volunteers for. And she’s determined to work her way into his heart this holiday season.


Colin turned sharply on his heel and glared at this woman who wouldn’t take a hint.

“Lady—”

“Miranda,” she prompted.

“Miranda,” Colin echoed between gritted teeth. “You are a royal pain, you know that?”

Miranda always tried to glean something positive out of every situation, no matter how bleak it might appear. “Does that mean you’ll look for her?” she asked him hopefully.

He blew out an angry breath. “That means you’re a royal pain,” he repeated.

With nothing to lose, Miranda went out on a limb. “Please? I can give you a description of Lily’s mother.” And then she thought of something even better. “And if you come with me, I can get you a picture of her that’ll be useful.”

He had a feeling that the woman just wasn’t going to give up unless he agreed to help her. Although it irritated him beyond description, there was a very small part of him that did admire her tenacity.

* * *

Matchmaking Mamas:

Playing Cupid. Arranging dates.

What are mothers for?


Dear Reader (#uda029983-d22c-565e-86fb-751b9ed4baff),

You know how sometimes you get a song stuck in your head that you just can’t get rid of? Well, in my case that doesn’t just happen with songs. Sometimes it’s a phrase, but more often, it’s a title. Case in point, years ago my first Romantic Suspense was entitled Holding Out for a Hero. That song was part of the score for a movie my kids loved enough that I took them to it several times. It was a cute movie, but I couldn’t get that song out of my head for weeks. I carried that title around for a number of years until I came up with a story that warranted it.

I had the same thing happen a number of years after that with a title that popped into my head and refused to “unpop.” The title this time was Good Deeds and Miranda. This time, sadly, my choice for a title was vetoed, but that doesn’t change the fact that this book was born to tell that title’s story.

Miranda Steele is a perpetual do-gooder. The die was cast when Miranda’s sister, Emily, died of leukemia at the age of five. Miranda loved her and saw herself as her sister’s protector. She refocused all her energy to helping others, be they children, adults or animals. She has so many outlets for her good deeds that she doesn’t have any time for herself—until loner Colin Kirby crosses her path. The police officer has witnessed too much death for his young age, and the only way he’s found to survive is to withdraw into himself. When their paths cross (by arrangement, thanks to the Matchmaking Mamas), Miranda sees a broken soul who needs comfort and a way to get back among the living. Colin sees an attractive whirling dervish who just won’t leave him alone—until he doesn’t want to be left alone.

As always, thank you for taking the time to read my book, and from the bottom of my heart, I wish you someone to love who loves you back.

All the best,

Marie


Christmastime Courtship

Marie Ferrarella






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award–winning author MARIE FERRARELLA has written more than two hundred and seventy-five books for Mills & Boon, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Visit her website, www.marieferrarella.com (http://www.marieferrarella.com).


To

Melany,

The Best Daughter-in-Law

Anyone Could Ask For.

Welcome To The Family.


Contents

Cover (#ud387cab4-d7be-5fe3-9a19-d183487d82c3)

Back Cover Text (#u8cf3f81d-39fd-5400-a33e-d789bd6c2fe0)

Introduction (#u858b247f-2da0-5d1f-a5c8-094dc9c56860)

Dear Reader (#ubb38a360-56c8-5dd4-ba74-68ae14033c87)

Title Page (#u5a7d22d7-ae89-5163-a44d-73d3ffd12583)

About the Author (#uaf7e7cf5-f63d-5df9-b698-c5345c6c4115)

Dedication (#u9d4d8441-cff8-5219-be3a-12f5f6385ebf)

Prologue (#u7600e907-be50-547d-adf5-a16a5e769f88)

Chapter One (#u282c7d1b-4ec9-5ec0-8b7a-674549c14f85)

Chapter Two (#u64feb1ec-0fe5-5279-97be-091c5d1a74ed)

Chapter Three (#u58f777a3-cb56-5855-bfb0-2771f3beaaac)

Chapter Four (#ud4917030-e376-5dbf-8c23-52ed6aed8372)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Prologue (#uda029983-d22c-565e-86fb-751b9ed4baff)

“Is it true?”

Theresa Manetti looked up from the menu she was putting the final touches on to see who had just walked into her inner office. Most clients who wanted to avail themselves of her catering services either called or were brought in by one of her staff and announced.

As it turned out, this time Theresa found herself looking up at Jeannine Steele, an old friend she hadn’t seen in at least six months. Not since she’d catered Jeannine’s husband’s funeral reception.

“Well, that’s a new kind of greeting,” Theresa commented, amused. “Most people usually say hello. Is what true?” she asked, nodding toward the chair on the other side of her desk, indicating that her friend should sit down.

Looking uncomfortable and nervous, Jeannine lowered herself onto the chair, perching on its edge. “There’s a rumor going around that in addition to your catering business, you’re running some sort of a dating service on the side.”

Theresa had known Jeannine since her own two children had been in elementary school with Jeannine’s daughter, and in all that time, she couldn’t recall the stately woman appearing anything but completely in control.

Always.

But not this time.

“Well, that’s not exactly an accurate description,” Theresa replied. “It’s not really a ‘dating service,’ so much as a matchmaking service.”

Confusion furrowed Jeannie’s otherwise smooth, alabaster brow. “There’s a difference?”

From her vantage point, Theresa could see the other woman twisting her long, slender fingers together. Theresa was experienced enough to know where this was heading, and did what she could to set her friend at ease.

“A big difference,” she answered, pushing back her chair and rising to her feet. “Would you like something to drink, Jeannine?” she asked kindly. “I have everything from tea to soft drinks to something a little more ‘bracing’ if you’d rather have that.”

Jeannine drew in a deep breath before answering. “I’ll take tea,” she replied. “Strong tea.”

Theresa smiled as she went to the counter against the back wall, where she had a pot of hot water steaming. She had a preference for tea herself.

“So, it’s been a while, Jeannine,” she said in her customary easygoing manner. “How are you?”

“Concerned, frankly,” the other woman admitted.

Recrossing the room, Theresa held out the cup of tea. “You’re worried about Miranda, aren’t you?”

Her friend nearly dropped the cup Theresa had handed her. Some hot liquid sloshed over the side. “How did you know?” she asked, surprised.

“To begin with, you asked me about my so-called ‘sideline,’” Theresa answered, employing a whimsical term for the labor that had become near and dear not just to her heart, but to Maizie’s and Celia’s hearts, as well.

Theresa and the two women she had been best friends with since the third grade had weathered all of life’s highs and lows together. The highs included marriage, children and the successful businesses all three had started in the second half of their lives and were currently running.

The lows included all three becoming widows. But she, Maizie and Celia had learned to push on past the pain. After all, they each had children to provide for. They were determined to lead productive, fulfilling lives. And above all else, they were always, always there for one another.

Their matchmaking had begun slowly, by finding matches for their own children. That was to be the end of it, but matching up the right two people brought such satisfaction with it, they’d decided to try their hand at it again.

And again.

With each successful match, their secondary vocation just seemed to take wings. They loved the businesses they had begun and nurtured individually, but there was something exceedingly fulfilling about bringing together two people who otherwise might never have found one another.

Two people who clearly belonged together.

It looked as if the adventure was about to begin again, Theresa thought.

“Tell me about Miranda,” she coaxed, taking her seat once more. “How is she? Is she still as wonderfully generous and bighearted as ever?”

Jeannine thought of her only daughter—her only living child—whose career path had been chosen at the age of ten. “Yes—and that’s the problem. She’s so busy giving of herself, working at the children’s hospital, the women’s shelter and the city’s animal shelter, that she doesn’t have any time to focus on herself. Don’t get me wrong, Theresa. I’m prouder of Miranda than I can possibly say, but, well, I’m really afraid that if she keeps going like this, she’s eventually going to wind up alone.” Jeannine sighed. “I know that sounds like I’m being small-minded and meddling, but—”

Theresa cut her short. “Trust me, I know the feeling,” she assured her. “We’re mothers, Jeannine. It comes with the territory.” With her business going full steam ahead the way it was these days, she could use a little diversion. “Tell me, do you have any idea what Miranda’s dating life is like?”

“I have a very clear idea,” Jeannine replied. “It’s nonexistent these days.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she confirmed sadly. “The problem is that no man can compete with her full-time job, as well as all her volunteer work. Besides, what man wants to come in fourth?”

“Definitely not the kind of man we would want for your daughter,” Theresa said with conviction.

Jeannine looked confused. “What are you saying?”

Theresa smiled as she began making plans. “I’m saying we need to change Miranda’s focus a little.”

“So you do think there’s hope?” A glimmer of optimism entered the other woman’s hazel eyes.

Theresa leaned over and patted her friend’s hand. “Jeannine,” she said confidently, “there is always hope.”


Chapter One (#uda029983-d22c-565e-86fb-751b9ed4baff)

“Ladies, we have work to do,” Theresa announced the moment she entered Maizie Sommer’s house.

She strode into Maizie’s family room with the vigor of a woman half her age. Matchmaking projects always got her adrenaline going, creating a level of enthusiasm within her even greater than her usual line of work did—and it went without saying that she dearly loved her catering business.

“We certainly do,” Cecilia Parnell agreed.

Already seated at the card table—their usual gathering place whenever they were discussing their newest undertaking in the matchmaking arena—Celia turned to look at her. “This one is going to be a real challenge for us.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Theresa protested, gracefully slipping into the chair that was set up between Celia and Maizie. “I don’t think it’ll be that hard finding someone suitable.”

Taken aback, Celia looked quizzically at her old friend, who hadn’t called ahead with any details about the person she felt should be their latest project. “Wait, how would you know?”

“How would I know?” Theresa repeated incredulously. “Because I’ve known Miranda Steele ever since she was a little girl. She has this incredibly huge heart and she’s always trying to help everyone. Fix everyone,” Theresa emphasized, which was why she had come to think of the young woman as “the fixer” in recent years.

“Miranda?” Celia echoed, decidedly more confused than she’d initially been. “Maizie and I were talking about Colin when you walked in.”

It was Theresa’s turn to be confused. “Who’s Colin?” she asked, looking from Maizie to Celia.

“Police Officer Colin Kirby,” Celia clarified, adding, “our latest matchmaking project. His aunt Lily is a friend of mine and she came to talk to me on the outside chance that maybe I—actually we—could find someone for him.”

Without pausing, Celia launched into a brief version of the police officer’s backstory. “Lily took him in when her sister, Vanessa, a single mother, died in a car accident. Colin was fourteen at the time. She said that he’s a decent, hardworking young man who just shut down when he lost his mother. He enlisted in the Marines straight out of high school. When his tour of duty overseas ended, he was honorably discharged and immediately joined the police force in Los Angeles.”

Maizie appeared a little dubious. “Los Angeles is a little out of our usual territory,” she commented. “But I guess—”

“Oh no.” Celia quickly cut in. “He’s not in Los Angeles anymore, he’s in Bedford now. Lily talked him into moving back down here. Her health isn’t what it used to be and he’s her only living relative, so he made the move for her, which, in my book, shows you what sort of a person he is.

“The problem is,” Celia continued, “Lily says he’s really closed off, especially after what he saw during his tour overseas and as a police officer in one of the roughest areas in Los Angeles. To put it in Lily’s own words,” she concluded, “Colin needs someone to ‘fix him.’”

Smiling, Maizie shifted her gaze from Celia to Theresa. It was obvious that, in her estimation, they needed to look no further in either case. “You just said you have someone who likes to ‘fix’ people.”

But Celia was more skeptical than her friend. She needed more to work with. “Fix how?”

Theresa gave them Miranda’s background in a nutshell. “According to her mother, Miranda’s a pediatric nurse at Bedford Children’s Hospital who volunteers at a women’s shelter in her free time. She also volunteers at the city’s animal shelter and occasionally takes in strays until they can be placed in a permanent home.”

Maizie’s smile widened. “Ladies, maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, but this sounds to me like a match made in heaven. I’m assuming you both have a few more pertinent details that we can work with—like what these two look like and how old they are, for openers,” said the woman whose decision to find her daughter a suitable match had initially gotten what turned out to be their “side business” rolling eight years ago.

“Miranda’s thirty,” Theresa told them, producing a photograph on her smartphone that Jeannie had sent her, and holding it up for the others to see.

“Colin’s thirty-three,” Celia said. “And I’ll ask Lily to send me a picture.”

So saying, she texted a message to the woman. In less than a minute, her cell phone buzzed, announcing that her request had been received and answered.

“Here we go,” Celia declared. “Oh my,” she murmured as she looked at the image that had materialized on her smartphone. Colin’s aunt had sent her a photo of her nephew in his police uniform.

Maizie took Celia’s hand and turned the phone around so she could look at it.

“Definitely ‘oh my,’” she agreed wholeheartedly. Pushing the deck of cards aside, she gave up all pretense that they were going to engage in a game of poker this evening, even a single hand. Her gaze took in her two lifelong friends. “Ladies, let’s get down to work. These two selfless servants of society need us. And from what I’ve heard, they also need each other,” the successful Realtor added knowingly. “We’ll require more information to bring about the perfect subtle ‘meet’ to get this particular ball rolling.”

Filled with anticipation, the three old friends got busy.

* * *

Every year, the holiday season seemed to begin earlier and earlier, Miranda Steele thought.

Not that she was complaining. Christmas had always been her very favorite time of year. While others grumbled that the stores were putting up Christmas decorations way too soon, motivated by a desire to increase their already obscene profits, Miranda saw it as a way to stretch the spirit of Christmas a little further, thereby making the true meaning of the season last a little longer.

But sometimes, like now, the pace became a little too hectic even for her. She had just put in a ten-hour day at the hospital, coming in way before her shift actually began in order to help decorate the oncology ward, where she worked. She felt particularly driven because she knew that for some of the children there it would be their last Christmas.

As harsh and sad as that thought was to deal with, she chose to focus on the bright side: bringing the best possible Christmas she could to the children and their families.

At times, she felt like a lone cheerleader, tirelessly attempting to drum up enthusiasm and support from the other nurses, doctors and orderlies on the floor until she had everyone finally pitching in, even if they weren’t all cheerful about it.

She didn’t care if the rest of the staff was cheerful or not, as long as they helped out. And as was her habit, she worked harder than anyone to make sure that things were ultimately “just right.”

If she were a normal person, about now she would be on her way home, having earned some serious bubble bath time.

But soaking in a hot tub was not on this afternoon’s agenda. She didn’t have time for a bubble bath, as much as she longed for one. She had to get Lily’s birthday party ready.

Lily Hayden was eight today. The little girl was one of the many children currently living with their moms at the Bedford Women’s Home, a shelter where Miranda volunteered four days a week after work.

The other two or three days she spent at the city’s no-kill animal shelter, where she worked with dogs and cats—and the occasional rabbit—that were rescued from a possible bleak demise on the street. Miranda had an affinity for all things homeless, be they four-footed or two-footed. In her opinion there never seemed to be enough hours in the day for her to help all these deserving creatures.

She had been working in all three areas for years now and felt she had barely been able to scratch the surface.

Agitated, Miranda looked at the clock on her dashboard. The minutes were flying by.

She was running the risk of being late.

“And if you don’t get there with this cake, Lily is going to think you’ve forgotten all about her, just like her mom did,” Miranda muttered to herself.

Lily’s mother had left the little girl at the shelter when she’d gone to look for work. That was two days ago. No one had heard from the woman since. Miranda was beginning to worry that Gina Hayden, overwhelmed with her circumstances, had bailed out, using the excuse that the little girl was better off at the shelter, without her.

Stepping on the gas, Miranda made a sharp right turn at the next corner, reaching out to hold the cake box on the passenger seat in place.

Focused on getting to the homeless shelter on time, Miranda wasn’t aware of the dancing red and blue lights behind her until she heard the siren, high-pitched, demanding and shrill, slicing through the air. The sound drew her attention to the lights, simultaneously making her stomach drop with a jarring thud.

Oh damn, why today of all days? Miranda silently demanded as, resigned to her fate, she pulled her car over to the right. Even as she did so, something inside her wanted to push her foot down on the accelerator and just take off.

But considering that her newfound nemesis was riding a motorcycle and her car was a fifteen-year-old asthmatic vehicle way past its glory days, a clean getaway was simply not in the cards.

So she pulled over and waited for her inevitable ticket, fervently hoping the whole process was not going to take too long. She was already behind schedule. Miranda didn’t want to disappoint Lily, who had already been disappointed far too often in her short life.

* * *

This wasn’t his usual route. For some unknown reason, the desk sergeant had decided that today, he and Kaminski were going to trade routes.

Sergeant Bailey had made the switch, saying something about “mixing things up and keeping them fresh”—whatever that was supposed to mean, Colin thought, grumbling under his breath.

As far as he was concerned, one route was as good as another. At least here in Bedford the only thing people shot at him were dirty looks, instead of bullets from the muzzles of illegally gotten handguns. He had to admit that patrolling the streets of Bedford was a far cry from patrolling the barrio in Los Angeles, or driving on the roads in Afghanistan. In those situations, a man had to develop eyes in the back of his head to stay alive.

Here in Bedford, those same eyes were in danger of shutting, but from boredom, not a fatal shot.

He supposed, after everything he had been through in the last ten years, a little boredom was welcome—at least for a while.

But he didn’t exactly like the idea of hiding on the far side of the underpass, waiting to issue a ticket to some unsuspecting Bedford resident.

Yet those were the rules of the game here, and for now, he wasn’t about to rock the boat.

First and foremost, he was here because of Aunt Lily. Because he owed her big-time. She had taken him in when no one else would, and to his discredit, he had repaid her by shutting her out and being surly. It wasn’t her fault he had behaved that way; the blame was his.

In his defense—if he could call it that—he hadn’t wanted to risk forming another attachment, only to have to endure the pain that came if and when he lost her. Lost her the way he’d lost everyone else in his life that ever mattered. His mother. Some of the men in his platoon. And Owens, his last partner in LA.

Colin’s method of preventing that sort of pain was to cut himself off from everyone. That way, the pain had no chance of ever taking root, no chance of slicing him off at the knees.

At least that was what he told himself.

Still, he reasoned, playing his own devil’s advocate, if there wasn’t some part of him that cared, that was still capable of forming some sort of an attachment, however minor, would he have uprooted himself the way he had in order to be here because Aunt Lily had asked him to?

He didn’t know.

Or maybe he did, and just didn’t want to admit it to himself.

Either way, it wasn’t something that was going to be resolved today. Today he needed to focus on the small stuff.

Right now he had a speeder to stop, he told himself, coming to life and increasing his own speed.

Because the woman in the old sedan was obviously not looking into her rearview mirror, Colin turned on his siren.

There, that got her attention. At least she wasn’t one of those foolhardy birdbrains who thought they could outrace his motorcycle, Colin observed, as the car began to decrease its speed.

Watching the vehicle slow down and then come to a stop, Colin braced himself for what he knew was about to come. Either the driver was going to turn on the waterworks, attempting to cry her way out of a ticket by appealing to what she hoped was his chivalrous nature, or she was going to be belligerent, demanding to know if he had nothing better to do than to harass otherwise law-abiding citizens by issuing speeding tickets for offenses that were hardly noteworthy, instead of pursuing real criminals.

After parking his motorcycle behind her vehicle, he got off, then took his time walking up to the offending driver. Because the street was a busy one, with three lanes going in each direction, Colin made his way to the passenger side, to avoid getting hit by any passing motorist.

As he approached, he motioned for the driver to roll down her window.

She looked nervous. Well, the woman should have thought about this before she’d started speeding.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” he asked gruffly.

Miranda took a breath before answering. “Because I was speeding.”

A little surprised at the simplicity of her reply, Colin waited for more.

It didn’t come.

The woman wasn’t trying to talk her way out of the ticket she obviously knew was coming. He found that rather unusual. In his experience, people he pulled over in Bedford weren’t normally this calm, or this seemingly polite.

Colin remained on his guard, anticipating a sudden turn on the driver’s part.

“Right,” he said, picking up on her answer. “You were speeding. Any particular reason why?”

He was aware that he was giving her the perfect opportunity to attempt to play on his sympathies, with some sort of a sob story. Such as she’d just gotten a call from the hospital saying her mother or father or some other important person in her life had just had a heart attack, and she was rushing to their side before they died.

He’d heard it all before. The excuses got pretty creative sometimes.

He had to admit that, for some reason, he was mildly curious to hear what this driver had to offer as her excuse.

“There’s this little girl at the homeless shelter. It’s her birthday today and I’m bringing the cake. The party starts in ten minutes and I got off my shift at the hospital later than I anticipated. I work at Children’s Hospital and we had an emergency,” she explained, inserting a sidebar.

“Where at Children’s Hospital?” Colin asked, wondering just how far the woman was going to take this tale she was spinning.

“The oncology ward,” she answered.

He should have seen that one coming. “Really?” he challenged.

Was he asking her for proof? That was simple enough, she thought. Because she’d been in such a rush, she was still wearing her uniform, and she had her hospital badge around her neck.

Holding up her ID, she showed it to him. “Yes, really, Officer,” she answered politely. “Now if you’ll please write out the ticket and give it to me so I can be on my way, I can still make the party on time. I don’t want Lily to think I forgot about her, today of all days.”

About to begin doing so, Colin looked up sharply. “Lily?” he questioned.

“That’s her name,” Miranda answered. “Lily.”

Colin stared at the woman, a stoic expression on his face as he tried to make up his mind if she was actually serious, or trying to con him.

She couldn’t possibly know about his aunt, he decided.

“My aunt’s name is Lily,” he told her, watching her face for some telltale sign that she was making all this up.

“It’s a nice name,” Miranda responded, waiting for him to begin writing.

Colin paused for a long moment, weighing the situation.

And then he did something he didn’t ordinarily do. Actually, it was something he’d never done before. He closed his ticket book.

“All right, I’m letting you off with a warning,” he told her. Then added an ominous “Watch yourself,” before he turned on his heel and walked back to his motorcycle.


Chapter Two (#uda029983-d22c-565e-86fb-751b9ed4baff)

Miranda’s first impulse was to take off before the officer decided to change his mind about writing her that ticket. But as she thought about the fact that she had just dodged a bullet, an idea came to her. Rather than start her car and drive away under the police officer’s watchful eye, Miranda opened her door and got out of her beloved vehicle.

“Officer?” she called, raising her voice.

Colin had already gotten on his motorcycle. Surprised, he looked in her direction. After a beat, he sighed and then slowly dismounted.

Now what? he silently demanded.

“Something on your mind, miss?” he asked, his voice low and far from friendly.

The officer sounded as if she was annoying him. But Miranda hadn’t gotten where she was by giving in to the nervous quiver that occasionally popped up in her stomach—as it did now.

Raising her head so that her eyes met his—or where she assumed his eyes were, because he’d lowered the visor on his helmet, she stated, “I wanted to say thank you.”

Colin grunted in response, because in his opinion, this wasn’t the sort of situation where “you’re welcome” suited the occasion. As far as he was concerned, she wasn’t welcome. He’d just given in to an impulse that had come out of nowhere, and if he thought about it now, he was rather bewildered by his own actions.

“Do you have a card?” she asked him.

“A card?” Colin repeated, clearly perplexed by her question.

Miranda didn’t think she was asking for anything out of the ordinary. “Yes, like a business card. The police department issues those to you, right?”

Instead of answering her question, or giving her one of the cards he carried in his pocket, Colin asked, “Why do you want it? You don’t have anything to report me for,” he pointed out gruffly.

It took Miranda a second to absorb what he was saying. Talk about being defensive. But then, maybe he had a reason. Some people were belligerent when dealing with the police.

“I don’t want to report you,” she assured him with feeling. “I just want to be able to call you.”

So that was it, Colin thought. The woman was a groupie. He knew that there were people—mostly women—who were attracted to the uniform, some to the point of obsession. He had no patience when it came to groupies.

Colin got back on his motorcycle, ready to take off. “That’s not a good idea,” he told her in a voice that left no room for argument.

Or at least he thought it didn’t.

“But the kids at the hospital would get such a big kick out of meeting a real live motorcycle cop,” she said, hoping to change his mind.

She caught him completely off guard. He definitely hadn’t been expecting that.

Now that he had transferred to Bedford, he didn’t find himself interacting with any children. The ones back in the LA neighborhood he used to patrol saw police officers as the enemy, and either scattered whenever they saw him coming, or would throw things at him and then run.

“Look, I don’t think—” Colin got no further than that.

Determined to convince him, Miranda attempted to submerge the police officer in a tidal wave of rhetoric. “A lot of the kids in that ward haven’t been out of the hospital in months. I think meeting you would go a long way in cheering them up.”

There had to be some sort of an ulterior motive at work here, Colin thought, and he wasn’t about to fall for whatever trap she was trying to set for him.

“I really doubt that,” he told her as he revved his motorcycle.

“I don’t,” Miranda countered cheerfully, refusing to be put off. “Why don’t you come by the hospital and we’ll see which one of us is right?” Mindful of procedure, she told him, “I’d have to clear it with my supervisor, but I don’t see why she would say no.”

“She might not, but I will.” Then, just in case the woman still had any doubt about what he was telling her, Colin said, “No.”

“But, Officer—” Rebounding quickly, Miranda tried again “—it’s Christmas.”

Colin’s eyes narrowed. “It’s November,” he corrected.

“Almost Christmas,” she amended.

The woman just wouldn’t give up, he thought, his irritation growing to astounding levels.

“Look, why don’t you get back into your car and drive off before I decide to change my mind about issuing you that ticket?” Colin suggested tersely. “You said something about a birthday party for a little girl named Lily,” he reminded her.

“Oh my goodness! Lily!” Miranda cried, genuinely upset. She’d gotten so caught up with her idea about having the police officer visit the children in the oncology ward that she’d forgotten the mission she was on right now. “The poor thing’s going to really be upset if I don’t turn up on time.”

Whirling around, Miranda hurried back to her car and got in. She was starting the vehicle before she even closed the door.

Raising his voice, Colin called after her, “Remember the speed limit!”

There was next to no traffic at the moment.

Reining herself in, knowing that the officer would be watching her pull away from the curb, Miranda gripped the steering wheel and drove off at a respectable speed, all the while wishing herself already at her destination.

Despite her hurry to get to the women’s shelter, she made a mental note to track down the officer and get his name and number from his precinct the first chance she got. This wasn’t over yet, she promised herself.

Miranda managed to catch all the lights and breeze through them, arriving at the women’s shelter fifteen minutes later.

Rather than wasting time driving around and looking for a parking spot near the gray, two-story building’s front door, she pulled into the first space she came to.

Grabbing the cake, she hurried into the building—and nearly collided with the blonde little girl who was anxiously waiting for her at the door.

“You came!” Lily cried happily, her furrowed brow smoothing out the second she saw Miranda.

“Of course I came,” she said, pausing to kiss the top of Lily’s head as she balanced the large cake box in her arms. “I told you I would. It’s your birthday and I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”

Lily was all but dancing on her toes, eagerly looking at the rectangular box in Miranda’s arms. “Is that a cake?”

“Aw, you guessed,” Miranda said, pretending to be disappointed that her secret had been uncovered. “What gave it away?”

“The box,” Lily answered solemnly, as if she’d been asked a legitimate question. And then she giggled as she added, “And I can smell cake.”

“Well, since you guessed what it is, I guess you get to keep it,” Miranda told her.

Lily was all but bursting with excitement. “Can I carry it to the dining room?” she asked.

That wouldn’t be a good idea, Miranda thought. The box was large and would prove to be rather unwieldy for a little girl to carry.

“Well, it’s kind of heavy,” she told her. “So why don’t I carry it there for you and you can open the box once I put it on the table?”

“Okay,” Lily responded, obviously ready to agree to anything her idol suggested.

The little girl literally skipped to the dining area at Miranda’s side. And she never took her eyes off the box, as if afraid it would suddenly disappear if she did.

“What kind of cake is it?” she asked.

“A birthday cake,” Miranda replied solemnly.

Lily giggled and waved her hand at her friend. “I know that, silly,” she told her. “I mean what kind of birthday cake?”

“A good one,” Miranda said, still pretending that she didn’t understand what Lily was asking her.

“Besides that,” Lily pressed, giggling again.

“It’s a lemon cake with vanilla frosting,” Miranda told the bubbly little girl beside her as they reached the dining area.

Lily’s eyes grew huge with obvious delight. “Lemon cake’s my very favorite in the whole world.”

“Well, how about that.” Miranda pretended to marvel. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yes, you did,” Lily said, a surprisingly knowing look on her small, thin face.

And then Miranda smiled affectionately at the girl. “I guess I did at that. Guess what else I’ve got,” she said.

“Candles?” Lily asked in a hopeful whisper.

Miranda nodded. “Eight big ones. And one extra one for luck.”

Instead of saying anything in response to the information, Lily threaded her small arm through one of her friend’s and hugged it hard, her excitement all but palpable.

Miranda could feel her heart practically squeezing within her chest. This moment she was sharing with Lily was both humbling and sad. Other children her age would have asked for toys or expensive video games, and not shown half the excitement when they received them that Lily displayed over the fact that she was getting a birthday cake—with candles.

Drawn by the sound of Lily’s squeals, Amelia Sellers, the tall, angular-looking woman who ran the shelter, made her way over to them. Her smile was warm and genuine—and perhaps slightly relieved, as well.

Amelia’d probably thought she wasn’t going to make it. Most likely because she had a habit of being early, not running late like this.

“Lily’s been looking forward to this all day,” Amelia told her the moment she reached them.

“So have I,” Miranda assured both the director and the little girl, who was looking up at her with nothing short of adoration in her eyes.

“I put out the plates,” Amelia announced, gesturing at one of the dining tables. “So let’s get started.”

Miranda smiled down at Lily, who was obviously waiting for her to make the first move. She had to be the most well-mannered eager little girl she’d ever met.

“Let’s,” Miranda agreed.

Carefully taking the half sheet cake out of the box, Miranda moved the rectangular container aside and out of the way. She then put the candles on the cake, making sure she spaced them close enough together that Lily would be able to blow them all out at once when she made her wish.

The moment the birthday cake was placed on the table, children began coming over, clustering around the table, all hoping to get a piece.

Taking out the book of matches she had picked up when she’d purchased the candles, Miranda struck one and then carefully lit the eight plus one wicks.

Blowing out the match, she looked at all the eager faces around the table. “All right,” she told the small gathering. “Everybody sing!”

And she led the pint-size group, along with the smattering of adults also gathered around the table, in a loud, if slightly off-key chorus of “Happy Birthday.” All the while she kept one eye on Lily, who looked positively radiant.

When the children stopped singing, Miranda told the little girl, “Okay, Lily, make a wish and blow out the candles.”

Nodding, Lily pressed her lips together, clearly giving her wish a great deal of thought. Then she looked up at Miranda and smiled.

Taking in a deep breath, Lily leaned over the cake and blew as hard as she could. The candles flickered and went out.

“You got them all,” Miranda declared, applauding the little girl’s accomplishment.

The children and adults around the table joined in, some loudly cheering, as well.

Miranda felt someone tugging on the bottom of her tunic. Glancing down, she found herself looking into the upturned face of an animated little boy named Paul.

“Now can we have some cake?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” she replied. “Right after Lily gets the first piece.”

Removing all nine candles, she set them on a napkin. Miranda proceeded to cut a piece of cake for Lily, making sure it was an extra-large one.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lily folding the napkin over the candles she’d just removed. The little girl covertly slipped the napkin into the pocket of her jeans, a souvenir of her special day.

“There you go,” Miranda told her, sliding the plate to her.

“Thank you,” Lily said.

To Miranda’s surprise, rather than devour the cake as she expected, the little girl ate the slice slowly, as if savoring every morsel.

“This is the best cake I ever had,” Lily declared when she finally finished it.

The other children had made short work of the cake that was left, but Miranda had anticipated that. “You can have another piece,” she told Lily. Not waiting for a response, she pushed her own plate in front of the little girl.

Lily looked tempted, but left the slice untouched.

“What’s wrong?” Miranda asked.

“I can’t eat that. That’s your piece,” she protested.

Miranda smiled at the girl. One in a million, she thought.

Out loud she stated, “And I saved it for you. I wanted you to have an extra piece and knew that the rest of the cake would probably be gobbled up fast. So don’t argue with me, young lady. Take this piece. It’s yours,” she coaxed.

Lily still looked uncertain. “Really?”

“Really,” Miranda assured her. “I’m the grown-up here. You have to listen.”

Lily’s face was all smiles as she happily dug into the second piece.

When she finished, Miranda cleared away the plates, stacking them on the side.

“That was the best cake ever!” Lily told her with enthusiasm, and then hugged her again.

“Glad to hear that,” Miranda said, when the little girl loosened her hold. “By the way, I have something for you.”

“For me?” Lily cried, clearly amazed. It was obvious that she felt the cake was her big prize. Anything else was above and beyond all expectation. “What is it?”

Miranda reached into the oversize purse she’d left on the floor and pulled out the gift she had wrapped for Lily early this morning, before she’d left for the hospital.

Handing it over, she said, “Why don’t you open it and see?”

Lily held the gift as if she couldn’t decide whether to unwrap it or just gaze at it adoringly for a while. Her curiosity finally won out and she started peeling away the wrapping paper.

The moment she’d done so, her mouth dropped open. “You got me a puppy!” she cried.

“Well,” Miranda amended, “I can’t get you a real puppy because the shelter won’t allow it, so for now, I want you to have this stuffed one. But someday, when you’re in a home again, I’ll come and bring you a real one,” she promised.

Heaven knew she had access to enough homeless dogs at the animal shelter to pick just the right one for the little girl.

Lily threw her arms around her a third time and hugged her as hard as she could. “I wish you were my mom,” she said breathlessly.

Touched though she was, Miranda knew she couldn’t have the girl feeling like that. “Don’t say that, honey. Your real mom’s out there and she’s probably trying to get back here to you right now.”

But Lily shook her head. “I still wish you were my mom,” she insisted, burying her face against Miranda as she clutched the stuffed dog. “Thank you for my cake and my candles and my puppy. Thank you for everything,” she cried.

Miranda hugged the little girl, moved almost to tears and wishing there was something she could do for her beyond giving her a gift and a cake.

And then it came to her. She knew what she had to do.

She needed to track down the police officer on the motorcycle. Not to bring to the hospital with her—that would come later—but to help her find out what had happened to Lily’s mother. The man had resources at his disposal that she certainly didn’t have.

All she needed to do, once she located him, Miranda thought, was to appeal to his sense of justice or humanity, or whatever it took to get him to agree to look for Lily’s mother.

Smiling, she hugged Lily a little harder.


Chapter Three (#uda029983-d22c-565e-86fb-751b9ed4baff)

Because she didn’t want to risk possibly getting the motorcycle officer in any sort of trouble by going to the precinct and asking about him, Miranda spent the rest of that evening and part of the night reviewing her viable options.

By the next morning, Miranda decided that her best course of action was to literally track down the officer. That meant driving by the overpass where he’d been yesterday. She could only hope that he’d be there, waiting to ticket someone going over the speed limit.

But when she swung by the area that afternoon, after her shift was over, the police officer wasn’t there.

Disappointed, Miranda had to concede that not finding him there stood to reason. If an officer frequented the same spot day after day, word would quickly spread and drivers would either avoid the area altogether or at the very least be extra cautious about observing the speed limit.

Still, as she drove slowly by the overpass, Miranda wondered how far away the police officer could be. Unless he had been relocated, there must be a certain radius he had to adhere to, so as not to cross into another cop’s territory, right?

Giving herself a fifteen-minute time limit to find him, Miranda drove up one street and down another. She knew she was attempting to second-guess a man she knew absolutely nothing about, but at the moment she couldn’t think of an alternative.

Fifteen minutes later Miranda sighed. The time was up and she still hadn’t found the officer. She didn’t want to be too late getting to the women’s shelter. She knew that Lily’s mother still hadn’t shown up—she’d called Amelia to check—and the little girl would be devastated if she didn’t come to see her as she’d promised.

She had to go, Miranda thought. Maybe she’d come across the traffic cop tomorrow.

Slowing down, Miranda did a three-point turn in order to head toward the street that would ultimately take her to the shelter.

As she approached the red light at an intersection, a fleeting glint from the left caught her attention. The setting sun was reflecting off some sort of metal.

Miranda turned her head in that direction, and found the sun was hitting the handlebars of a motorcycle.

A police motorcycle.

His motorcycle.

Although the officer was wearing a helmet, and virtually all police motorcycles in Bedford looked alike, something told her that this particular officer was the one who had pulled her over yesterday. Pulled her over and didn’t give her a ticket. Miranda could feel it in her gut.

When the light turned green, instead of driving straight ahead, she deliberately eased her car to the left, into the next lane. Far enough to allow her to make a left-hand turn.

As she did so, she rolled down her window and honked her horn twice. Getting the officer’s attention, she waved her hand at the man, indicating that she wanted him to make a U-turn and follow her. She then mentally crossed her fingers that she hadn’t accidentally made a mistake, and that this was the same officer she’d interacted with yesterday.

* * *

Always alert when he was on the job, Colin tensed when he heard the driver honking. Seeing an arm come out of the driver’s window, waving to get his attention, he bit off a curse. Was the woman taunting him? Or did she actually want to get a ticket?

And then, as he looked closer, he realized that it was the same car he’d pulled over yesterday. The one driven by that petite blonde with the really deep blue eyes.

The one who had that birthday cake on the passenger seat.

What was she doing here? Was she deliberately trying to press her luck? Because if she was, she was in for a surprise.

Her luck had just run out, he thought.

Biting off a few choice words under his breath, Colin made a U-turn and took off after her.

Less than thirty seconds later, he realized that she wasn’t going anywhere. The woman with the soulful doe eyes had pulled over to the curb.

Something was definitely off, Colin thought as he brought his motorcycle to a halt behind her vehicle.

Training from his days on the force in Los Angeles had Colin approaching the car with caution. Every police officer knew that the first thirty seconds after a vehicle was pulled over were the most dangerous ones. If something bad was going to happen, it usually took place within that space of time.

Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, the pulled-over driver was harmless. It was that one other time that turned out to be fatal.

Although he had volunteered for this detail, choosing to patrol the city streets on a motorcycle over riding around in a squad car with a partner, he was not unaware of the risk that came with the job. A risk that always had his adrenaline flowing and his breath backing up in his lungs for that short time that it took for him to dismount and approach the offending driver’s vehicle.

If he had a partner, there would be someone close by who had his back. However, Owens, his last partner, had been killed on the job, and although Colin never said anything to anyone about it, that had weighed really heavily on him, and still did. After that tragic incident, he operated alone. Patrolling alone meant he had to watch out only for himself. He liked it that way.

The second he peered into the passenger window and saw the driver, he knew that he was facing another kind of danger entirely.

No one was going to die today, but it was still a risk.

Miranda rolled down the passenger window and leaned toward him. “Hi. I wasn’t speeding this time,” she said, greeting him with a cheerful smile and a chipper demeanor he found almost annoyingly suspicious.

He scowled at her. “No, you were just executing a very strange turn.”

“I had to,” Miranda explained. “If I went straight and turned at the next light, by the time I came back, I was afraid that you’d be gone.”

Only if I’d been lucky, Colin thought.

Just what was this woman’s game? “And that would have been a problem because...?”

She never missed a beat. “Because I had to talk to you.”

The idea of just turning away and getting back on his motorcycle was exceedingly tempting, but for some reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on, Colin decided to hear this overly upbeat woman out.

“You are persistent, aren’t you?” he retorted.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Miranda did her best to try to get the officer to lighten up a little and smile.

His stoic expression never changed. “It is from where I’m standing.” He’d glimpsed her driver’s license yesterday and tried to recall the name he’d seen on it. Maybe if he made this personal, he’d succeed in scaring her off. “What do you want, Miriam?”

“Miranda,” she corrected, still sounding annoyingly cheerful. “That’s okay, a lot of people get my name wrong at first. It takes getting used to.”

“I have no intention of getting used to it,” he informed her. Or you.

As far as he was concerned, the woman was really pushing her luck.

“Look, I let you off with a warning yesterday,” he reminded her. “Would you like me to rescind that warning and give you a ticket?”

Colin was fairly confident that the threat of a ticket would be enough to make her back off.

“No. That was very nice of you yesterday. That’s the reason I came looking for you today.”

She wasn’t making any sense. And then he remembered what she’d said yesterday about asking him to pay a visit to some ward at the hospital.

That’s what this was about, he decided. Something about sick children. Well, he was not about to get roped into anything. Who knew what this woman’s ultimate game really was?

“Look, I already told you,” he retorted. “I’m not the type to come see kids in a hospital. I don’t like hospitals.”

Rather than look disappointed as he’d expected her to, the woman nodded. “A lot of people don’t,” she agreed.

Okay, she was obviously stalking him, and this was over. “Well then, have a nice day,” Colin told her curtly, and then turned to walk back to his motorcycle.

“I’m not here about the hospital,” Miranda called after him. “Although I’d like to revisit that subject at a later time.”

Colin stopped walking. The woman had to be one of the pushiest people he’d ever encountered, not to mention she had a hell of a lot of nerve.

Against his better judgment, he found himself turning around again to face her. “And just what are you ‘here’ about?” he asked.

There was absolutely nothing friendly in his voice that invited her to talk. But she did anyway.

“That little girl I told you about?” Miranda began, feeling as if she was picking her way through a minefield that could blow up on her at any moment. “The one with your aunt’s name,” she reminded him, hoping that would get the officer to listen, and buy her a little more time.

“Lily,” he repeated, all but growling the name. “What about her?” he asked grudgingly.

He wasn’t a curious man by any stretch of the imagination, but there was something about this overly eager woman that had him wondering just where she was taking this.

“Lily’s mother is missing,” she told him, never taking her eyes off his face.

Rather than show some sort of reaction to what she’d just said, his expression never changed. He looked, Miranda thought, as if she’d just given him a bland weather report.

She began to wonder what had damaged the man to this extent.

“So go to the precinct and report it,” Colin told her. “That’s the standard procedure.”

“The director at the shelter already did that,” Miranda answered.

“All right, then it’s taken care of.” What more did she expect him to do? Colin wondered irritably as he began to walk away again.

“No, it isn’t,” Miranda insisted, stepping out of her car and moving quickly between him and his motorcycle. “The officer who took down the information said that maybe Lily’s mother took off. He said a lot of women in her situation feel overwhelmed and just leave. He said that maybe she’d come to her senses in a few days and return for her daughter.”

“Okay, you have your answer,” Colin said, moving around this human roadblock.

Again Miranda shifted quickly so he couldn’t get to his motorcycle. She ignored the dark look he gave her. She wasn’t about to give up. This was important. Lily was depending on her to do everything she could to find her mother.

“But what if she doesn’t?” Miranda asked. “What if she didn’t take off? What if something’s happened to Lily’s mother and that’s why she never came back to the shelter?”

He felt as if this doe-eyed blonde was boxing him in. “That’s life,” he said, exasperated.

“There’s a little eight-year-old girl at the shelter waiting for her mommy to come back,” Miranda told him with feeling. “I can’t just tell her ‘that’s life.’”

Taking hold of Miranda’s shoulders, he moved her firmly out of his way and finally reached his motorcycle. “Tell her whatever you like.”

Miranda raised her voice so that he could hear her above the sound of the cars going by. “I’d like to tell her that this nice police officer is trying to find her mommy.”

Colin turned sharply on his heel and glared at this woman who refused to take a hint. “Look, lady—”

“Miranda,” she prompted.

“Miranda,” Colin echoed between gritted teeth. “You are a royal pain, you know that?”

Miranda had always tried to glean something positive out of every situation, no matter how bleak it might appear. “Does that mean you’ll look for her?” she asked hopefully.

Colin blew out an angry breath. “That means you’re a royal pain,” he repeated.

With nothing to lose, Miranda climbed out on a limb. “Please? I can give you a description of Lily’s mother.” And then she thought of something even better. “And if you come with me, I can get you a picture of her that’ll be useful.”

He had a feeling that this woman wasn’t going to give up unless he agreed to help her. Although it irritated him beyond description, there was a very small part of him that had to admit he admired her tenacity.

Still, he gave getting her to back off one more try. “What will be useful is if you get out of my way and let me do my job.”

Miranda didn’t budge. “Isn’t part of your job finding people who have gone missing?”

“She’s not missing if she left of her own accord and just decided to keep on going,” he told the blonde, enunciating every word.

“But we don’t know that she decided to keep on going. She did leave the shelter to go look for work,” Miranda told him.

“That’s what the woman said,” Colin countered impatiently.

“No, that’s what she did,” Miranda stressed. “Gina Hayden has an eight-year-old daughter. She wouldn’t just leave her like that.”

“How do you know that?” Colin challenged. The woman lived in a cotton candy world. Didn’t she realize that the real world wasn’t like that? “Lots of people say one thing and do another. And lots of people with families just walk out on them and never come back.”

Miranda watched him for a long moment. So long that he thought she’d finally given up trying to wear him down. And then she spoke and blew that theory to pieces.

“Who left you?” she asked quietly.

“You, I hope,” he snapped, turning back to face his motorcycle.

He sighed as she sashayed in front of him yet again. This was beginning to feel like some never-ending dance.

“No, you’re not talking about me,” Miranda told him. “You’re talking about someone else. I can see it in your eyes. Someone walked out on you, probably when you were a kid. So you know what that feels like,” she stressed.

He needed this like he needed a hole in the head. “Look, lady—”

“Miranda,” she corrected again.

He ignored that. “You can take your amateur psychobabble, get back in your car and drive away before I haul you in for harassing a police officer.”

Was that what he thought this was?

She had to get through to him. Something in her heart told her that he’d find Gina, She just needed him to take this seriously.

“I’m not harassing you—”

He almost laughed out loud. “You want to bet?”

Miranda pushed on. “I’m just asking you to go out of your way a little and maybe make a little girl very happy. If her mother doesn’t turn up, Lily’s going to be sent to social services and placed in a foster home. The only reason she hasn’t been taken there already is that the director of the shelter agreed with me about waiting for her mom to come back. The director bought us a little time.” And that time was running out, Miranda added silently.

“The kid can still be taken away,” Colin pointed out. “Her mother abandoned her.”

Why couldn’t she get through to this officer? “Not if something happened to her and she’s unable to get back.”

Colin sighed. He knew he should just get on his motorcycle and ride away from this woman. For the life of him, he didn’t know why he was allowing himself to get involved in this.

“Did you call all the hospitals?”

She nodded. “All of them. There’s no record of anyone fitting Gina’s description coming in on her own or being brought in.”

So what more did this woman want him to do? “Well then—”

“But there could be other reasons she hasn’t come back,” she insisted. “Gina could have been abducted, or worse.” Miranda looked at him with eyes that were pleading with him to do something.

Colin shook his head. “I should have given you that ticket yesterday,” he told her gruffly.

He was weakening; she could just feel it. “But you didn’t because you’re a good man.”

“No, because I should have had my head examined,” he grumbled. “All right,” he relented, taking out his ticket book and flipping to an empty page.

Miranda’s eyes widened. “You’re writing me a ticket?” she asked.

“No, I’m taking down this woman’s description. You said you’d give it to me. Now, what is it?” Colin demanded.

“What did you say your name was?” she asked.

“I didn’t.” He could feel her looking at him. Swallowing a couple choice words, he said, “Officer Colin Kirby.”

“Thank you, Officer Colin Kirby.”

Maybe he was losing his mind, but he could swear he could feel her smile.

“The description?” he demanded.

Miranda lost no time in giving it to him.


Chapter Four (#uda029983-d22c-565e-86fb-751b9ed4baff)

“Okay,” Colin said, closing his ticket book and putting it away. “I’ll check with the other officer your director talked to. What’s his name or badge number?” he asked.

Miranda shook her head. She hadn’t thought to ask for that information when the director had given her an update. “I’m afraid Amelia didn’t mention either one.”

Colin looked at her. The name meant nothing to him. “Amelia?”

“Amelia Sellers,” Miranda specified. “That’s the shelter’s director. She didn’t give me the officer’s name, but seemed pretty upset that he wasn’t taking the situation seriously.”

Colin read between the lines. He assumed that the officer the shelter director had talked to hadn’t told her that he would get back to her. Not that he blamed the man.

“I take it this Amelia isn’t as pushy as you,” he commented.

Miranda wasn’t exactly happy with his description, but the situation was far too important for her to get sidelined by something so petty.

“Actually, she can be very forceful. But the officer taking down the information really didn’t seem to think that Gina was missing,” Miranda said.

She was looking at him with the kind of hopeful eyes that made men seriously consider leaping tall buildings in a single bound and bending steel with their bare hands in an attempt to impress her.

If he was going to interact with this woman for any length of time, he was going to have to remember to avoid looking into her eyes, Colin told himself. They were far too distracting.

“I bet you were prom queen, weren’t you?” he asked.

The question came out of the blue and caught her completely off guard. It took Miranda a moment to collect herself and answer, “Actually, I didn’t go to the prom.”

“No one asked you?” He found that rather hard to believe. She struck him as the epitome of a cheerleader. Was she pulling his leg?

Miranda didn’t answer his question directly. She actually had been asked, just hadn’t said yes.

“I had a scheduling problem,” she said vaguely. “The prom interfered with my volunteer work.”

“In high school?” Colin asked incredulously.

“You look surprised,” she noted, then told him, “People in high school volunteer for things.” At least, the people she’d kept company with had.

Shrugging, he said, “If you say so.” He’d never concerned himself with social activities, even back then, nor did he involve himself with any kind of volunteer work. Most of his life he’d been a loner.

Securing the ticket book in his back pocket, he told her, “I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Don’t you want the phone number at the shelter?”

He caught himself thinking fleetingly that he’d rather have her number. The next second he deliberately pushed the thought away. If he had her number, that might very well lead to complications, which was the very last thing he wanted. He supposed that obtaining the shelter’s number was innocuous enough. Most likely if he used it he’d wind up speaking to the director.

“Right,” Colin answered, doing his best to exercise patience. “So what is it?”

Miranda gave him the number to the shelter’s landline, then waited for him to take out the ticket book again so he could jot it down.

Sensing what she wanted, he did just that. As he put the book away a second time he heard her asking, “Aren’t you going to follow me to the shelter?”

It just didn’t end with her, did it? he thought, exasperated. “Why would I want to do that?”

“To see Gina’s picture,” she reminded him. “I told you that there’s one at the shelter. Lily has it.”

He looked at her blankly for a split second until the information clicked into place. “Lily. Right, the little girl.”

For a moment, he thought about telling her—again—that this wasn’t something he did. His main sphere of expertise was keeping the flow of traffic going at a reasonable rate.

There were patrol officers who took this kind of information down, as well as detectives back at the precinct who specialized in missing persons. But he had no desire to get into all that with her. It would just lead to another prolonged debate.

Besides, it wasn’t as if leaving the area was tantamount to abandoning a hub of vehicular infractions and crimes. And how long would following her to the shelter and getting that photograph of the runaway mother take, anyway?

Making no effort to suppress the sigh that escaped his lips, he said, “Okay, lead the way.”

The officer’s answer surprised her. She’d expected more resistance from him. Finally!

Her mouth curved. “So then, you are going to follow me?”

The woman had a magnetic, not to mention hypnotic, smile. He forced himself to look away.

“That’s what ‘lead the way’ usually means,” he answered shortly.

“I know that,” she acknowledged. “It’s just that I realize I’m asking you to go above and beyond the call of duty.”

And yet here you are asking me, he thought, irritated. Colin was beginning to think that the woman could just go on talking indefinitely. He, on the other hand, wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

“Just get in your car and drive, Miranda,” he instructed gruffly.

Her mouth quirked in another smile that made him think of the first ray of sunshine coming out after a storm. “You remembered.”

“Yeah,” Colin said shortly. He wasn’t about to tell her that, like it or not—and he didn’t—this fleeting contact with her had already left a definite imprint on his brain. “Well?” he prodded, when she continued standing there. “I don’t have all day.”

“Right.”

The next moment she was hurrying back to her vehicle. Getting in, she started up the engine mindful of the fact that she had to be careful to observe all the rules. She had no doubt that if she exceeded the speed limit—and there seemed to be a different one posted on each long block—the officer behind her wouldn’t hesitate to give her a ticket this time.

He’d probably see it as a reward for humoring her, Miranda thought.

But it didn’t matter. She’d gotten him to agree, however grudgingly, to try to find Lily’s mother, and that was all that did matter.

The shelter wasn’t far away. Parking near the entrance, she got out of her car and stood beside it, waiting for the officer to pull into the parking lot.

When he did, he found a spot several rows away from her.

She watched him stride toward her. The dark-haired officer was at least six-one, maybe a little taller, and moved like one of those strong, silent heroes straight out of the Old West. She sincerely hoped that he would turn out to be Lily’s hero.





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