Free Nothing to Fear by Karen Rose

unfortunately too familiar. Her own ex had come home that way all too often, a junkie, desperate for his next fix. He’d put his hands on the old woman’s throat, and Dana had simply reacted. It hadn’t been intelligent or particularly well planned and the next thing she knew she was sailing through the air, crashing her head into the bench. Dammit, it hurt like a bitch, too.
    She’d lain there, trying to get her bearings, listening to the old woman’s wails, when she felt the warmth of a big body kneeling beside her. And then she’d found herself looking up into a pair of steady green eyes. Not the brilliant green of jade or emerald, but the soft green of new leaves after a long winter. And everything inside her, all the turmoil of Evie and Lillian and even the old woman . . . all of it calmed. It didn’t disappear, but it was suddenly manageable. In that one moment, she wasn’t alone.
    And then he’d held her hand and suddenly, unexpectedly, everything inside her turned upside down. Even now, it still was. Even now, her heart still thundered in her chest, her skin still almost painfully sensitized. She could try to tell herself it was the shock of being knocked down, but Dana Dupinsky didn’t lie. At least not to herself.
    She made her way to the sink and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Blood was crusted in her hair, on her face, smeared on her plain polo shirt. A bruise had formed on her cheek where she’d taken the brunt of the fall. The bruise would fade in a day or two. I’ve had worse, she thought. And she had. Still, she’d been lucky.
    Hands shaking, she turned on the water, splashed her face. Grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at the blood on her face until she’d uncovered the cut. It was worse than she’d thought. She probably needed stitches. Buchanan had been right.
    Buchanan. He was out there, with his steady green eyes and gentle hands. Waiting for her at one of the tables. She didn’t believe for a moment that he’d given up and left. And to her own consternation, she wasn’t certain she wanted him to. No, she couldn’t lie and pretend nothing happened when he’d taken her hand. She’d felt it. Hell, she would have had to have been dead not to. It was as if a current had passed through her body, strong and very real. It certainly wasn’t something that happened to her every day.
    It certainly wasn’t something that had happened to her, ever.
    So she’d agreed to breakfast. Then she’d walk away and he could return to whatever business had put him in the Chicago bus station before dawn. She couldn’t lie and pretend she wasn’t the smallest bit curious about that as well. Why had he been in the bus station at five-thirty in the morning? Why did his suit look like it had been slept in while his eyes looked like he hadn’t slept in days? And why had he taken the time to be a Good Samaritan? There was only one way to find out.
    The coffee shop was starting to fill up when she slipped back into the dining room, but it took only a second to locate him. He would be the golden giant of a man politely rising to his feet by the table against the wall. Watching patiently as she came to him.
    She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d done so before. It was the same feeling she’d had looking up at him from the bus terminal floor. Like she’d known him forever.
    He didn’t sit when she reached him, but instead gently grasped her chin and pulled her closer, tilting her head toward the light. Giving her a close-up view of the strong, tanned column of his throat. The loosened knot of his tie. The hint of golden hair at his open collar. She couldn’t control the shiver that raced down her back. His chest expanded suddenly as he drew a deep breath. “You need stitches,” he pronounced. Huskily.
    “Butterfly bandage,” Dana responded. Unsteadily. She gulped at the air. “It stopped bleeding a long time ago.” Although the way her heart was pumping, it was small wonder it didn’t