Free The Way Home by Irene Hannon Page A

Saint Vincent’s would benefit? Amy hadn’t made the connection until now. But surely there were other attorneys who volunteered here, she reassured herself. It would be too much of a coincidence if he happened to be here the very night she’d come to do her story. Yet somehow, deep inside, she sensed that, coincidence or not, it was him.
    Amy’s heart began to pound. She didn’t want to intrude on Cal’s off-duty “turf.” It was too…well, personal. Since their “date” two weeks before, their only contact had been in the courtroom, and then only an occasional, fleeting connecting of gazes. He hadn’tacknowledged the thank-you note she’d sent him for the flowers, nor had she expected him to. Their limited contact had been impersonal and therefore safe. Which was fine with her. Something strange had happened that night as he was leaving her apartment. The unexpected sizzle of electricity that had sparked between them had left her rattled. For whatever reason, Cal Richards was a distraction, and distractions were not something she needed at this point in her career.
    Michael stopped at the gym door and pushed it open for her to enter. “A lot of the boys in here would be on the streets if it wasn’t for people like Cal Richards,” he said, confirming Amy’s premonition.
    Her heart stopped, then raced on. She hesitated, and both the director and Steve looked at her questioningly.
    â€œSomething wrong, Amy?” Steve asked.
    She forced herself to take a deep breath. She knew her reaction was totally illogical. After all, she’d covered any number of stories that had put her in physical danger or resulted in threats of bodily harm, and she’d always remained calm and cool. This situation was a piece of cake compared to that. She could handle this, she told herself reassuringly.
    But as she stepped to the door, the sight of Cal in his tank T-shirt and sweatpants, with biceps to rival a Mr. World candidate she’d once interviewed, made her long for the relative safety of a bank robbery or an impending tornado. However, since both Steve and Michael were staring at her curiously, she was left with no choice but to enter the gym.
    â€œJust taking a moment to observe,” she repliedbelatedly to Steve’s question. His skeptical look as she brushed past told her he didn’t buy her response, but it was the best she could do.
    â€œI’ll see what I can do about that interview,” Michael said. “Excuse me for just a minute.”
    â€œSo what gives?” Steve asked the moment the director was out of earshot.
    Amy gazed after Michael as he headed toward the group of boys clustered around Cal. “It’s just that the assistant prosecuting attorney and I have…clashed…a few times.”
    Steve followed her gaze. “You and every other member of the press in Atlanta. Join the club. Haven’t you given up on him yet?”
    â€œI don’t give up,” Amy said determinedly. “I still go to the courthouse almost every day. But so far, no luck.”
    Just then Cal looked her way, and their gazes met for one brief moment before he turned back to Michael and said a few words. Then he directed his attention to the boys, and Michael rejoined them.
    â€œNo luck on the interview, I’m afraid,” he apologized. “Cal’s one of our biggest supporters—in a lot of ways—but he keeps it low-profile. His motives are purely altruistic, and he has no interest in personal recognition or accolades. However, when I explained to him that this feature would be good for Saint Vincent’s and might encourage others to support our work, he did agree to some—what did you call it— B-roll filming?”
    â€œThat will be fine, Michael,” Amy assured him.“I think we have plenty of other shots, so we’ll just film for a few minutes here and then wrap it