Free Winter's Daughter by Kathleen Creighton Page A

gaze rested on her face. She felt it warm and soften until it seemed almost like a caress.
    "Tannis, I told you I care about the problems of the homeless in this town, and that’s a pretty big understatement. It was one of the issues I campaigned on, and since the election I’ve made it a personal goal to do something about it. When I decided to tackle this thing, I knew I had to get back to the streets to find the answers, but I’ve been away from them too long. It’s beginning to look like I’m not going to have the time to reacclimate myself. Something needs to be done
now.
It’ll take me weeks to develop the kind of rapport you already have. If you were to work with me, we might just come up with some solution—something a lot better than this so–called sweep that’s going on right now. What do you say?"
    What do I say?
The excitement she felt over Dillon’s surprising proposition was becoming lost in a fog of other emotions. She had a panicky feeling, as if she’d lost her train of thought in mid–sentence. She couldn’t concentrate. All of a sudden there didn’t seem to be room in her mind for anything but Dillon’s face, Dillon’s voice…
    When she continued to stare at him, he added softly, "I won’t get in the way of your personal research, I promise. And you’d be helping your street friends at the same time. Will you at least think it over?"
    "Oh, yes," Tannis whispered.
    "You will? You’ll think about it?"
    She cleared her throat and heard herself say, "No. I mean, I don’t need to think about it. I’ll do it. I’ll be delighted to work with you. It would be—"
    "Hey, that’s great!" His smile illuminated his face as he caught her up in an impulsive hug. Her heart gave a joyous surge; she clutched his arms and sucked in air like a child on a Ferris wheel.
    "Hey," she said feebly, laughing, "don’t you think this looks a little funny?"
    "Oh," Dillon said. "Yeah." He dropped his arms and backed away from her. Suddenly it seemed that neither of them knew what to do with their hands or eyes. Dillon dragged his hands through the air while Tannis used hers to tug needlessly at the bottom of her sweater.
    Dillon looked at his watch. "I’d like to talk to you a lot more about this, share some ideas, make some plans, and so forth. But I have to be at a meeting at two, and I need to get home and change." His expression grew thoughtful, then enthusiastic. "You know, I’d really like to have you at that meeting. I’d like to make this official—get you on the city payroll."
    "Payroll?" Tannis said, feeling breathless and overwhelmed. "You’re offering me a
job?"
    He frowned. "Yeah, what did you think?" He picked up his baseball cap from the bench, slapped it once on his leg, and put it on. "Listen, tell you what. You take your time, go home, and get yourself cleaned up. I’ll go to the meeting and you can join me there. That’ll give me time to brief the mayor and the other members of the council. That okay with you?"
    "Fine," Tannis murmured, spellbound.
    He gave her a wide smile and reached impulsively toward her. Instead of touching her, though, he waved his hand and backed away. "Great, see you then." He turned, and she saw his shoulders take on the derelict’s slouch.
    "Dillon?" He turned back expectantly. She hesitated, feeling confused, not sure why she’d called him back, knowing only that she didn’t want to watch him walk away. "Can I ask you a question?"
    "Sure, shoot."
    "How did you know me? What, exactly, was it that gave me away?"
    He walked back to her, in no great hurry, thumbs hooked in his pockets, an unconscious but blatantly masculine swagger. She sensed the sultry throb of drums growing steadily louder and more hypnotic with every step he took.
    "What gave you away?" His voice had a new timbre, warm and velvety, like a summer night.
    He stood looking down at her, and though she felt as overpowered as she usually did by his height, this time she didn’t retreat to her