Free The Officer's Girl by Leigh Duncan

“Great.” He managed not to sound too relieved. Getting down on all fours in the grass with her was not an option.
    He offered her a hand up, intending to ask what she’d lost, but once the space in front of him filled with living, breathing Stephanie Bryant, his train of thought switched tracks. He had nearly forgotten how small she was. Her head and all those glorious curls didn’t even reach the top of his shoulder. She peered up at him through incredibly blue eyes which, unless he was seriously misjudging the signals, were inviting him to take her into his arms. Uncertainty filled his head with static. It was such an unfamiliar feeling that he paused, wanting to be sure. When she did not wave a red flag, he leaned in slightly, forcing himself to go slow, giving her a chance to back away, praying she wouldn’t.
    The air between them crackled. A voice whispered in his ear.
    “Lincoln, this is Dispatch. Those two yahoos are headed out on Highway 520. Merritt Island, Cocoa and points west have been alerted. They won’t find work in the county. Good job, Brett.”
    Doris had a way of dousing a situation with cold water just when things were heating up nicely.
    He tried to listen as she updated him on events throughout the town, but his attention kept wandering to Stephanie. The brunette had moved away and now stood with her cell phone pressed against one ear, her back to him. She kept talking after his call finished. Wondering who was on the other end of the line, he gathered tools that littered the ground beneath one of the windows, and waited until he heard her say, “I’ll see you there in an hour.”
    Flipping the phone closed, Stephanie whirled to face him. “Sorry about that.” She shrugged. “Work. I have to go into the office. Hey, did you find any glue in that toolbox? I broke a nail.”
    Brett shook his poor, confused head. If he needed proof she wasn’t right for him, she had just given it. A girl had to be pretty self-centered to worry about a broken fingernail in the aftermath of a hurricane, didn’t she? Hadn’t he decided he was done with women like that?
    “Time for both of us to get back to work,” he announced. There would be no repeat of the almost-kiss. Not now. Not ever.
    “All those ax murderers to chase?”
    “Something like that. See you around.” He was immune to the way her eyes sparkled. He was. So why did he have to force his feet toward the patrol car?
    “Right. I’ve gotta run, too,” she called.
    She was in her car and pulling out of the driveway before he realized what was bothering him. Over one shoulder, he eyed the panels covering most of her windows. Heat and humidity would turn the inside of her house into a sweatbox. She’d need to strip down to her underwear in order to find any comfort at all.
    The image of Stephanie Bryant, hot and sweaty and alone, was not one he wanted to carry with him until the power came back on.
    Stifling a groan, he went back to the house and began removing her shutters.

Chapter Five
    The guard trudged soundlessly through the hall on rubber-soled shoes. He passed one darkened office after another while Stephanie trailed behind, wishing the heels of her Jimmy Choo knockoffs wouldn’t clatter so loudly against the marble floor. She could have worn sneakers and saved her aching arches for another day. It wasn’t as if anyone would see her shoes during the telecom with Corporate.
    The suit was another matter. Thanks to the latest in electronic gizmos, the bigwigs would get an eyeful of everything above her waist. From the megabucks they had invested in her, she knew they expected their newest director to be cool, calm and dressed to the nines, hurricanes and power outages notwithstanding. Thus, the quick change out of her sweats and into a suit in the ladies’ room off the lobby. Shoes were just part of the package.
    “Here you go, Ms. Bryant.” The guard unlocked a door at the end of the hall.
    Stephanie darted a quick look at his name