43

Lively strains of Christmas music floated from somewhere in the rafters as Dina Griffin let her gaze rove over the rows of shampoo bottles lining the shelf. Lemon yellow, bright purple, jarring chartreuse, the plastic containers came in a rainbow of colors, each competing to catch the eye of shoppers. There were products that guaranteed help for damaged split ends; others promising shine and curl; and still others offering to clarify, volumize, or medicate. The abundance of choices astonished her. And to think, all she’d ever expected from her shampoo was clean hair. It wasn’t as if she’d never been shopping, but her busy life usually had her running in, snapping up her tried-and-true bargain brand, and going on her way. Studying the bottles closer, she read phrases like moisture milk, herbal escapes, essential oils, vitamin-laced, and tea therapy.

Tea therapy?

A few steps further brought her to the matching conditioners, also in a mind-boggling, kaleidoscopic variety. Then came the specialty shampoos for dandruff and hair loss and itchy, scaly scalp conditions. And nits.

Lice. Ew.

Dina shivered inside her bulky winter coat as she ambled along, feigning great interest in the items on display.

She reached the end of the aisle, and just as she stepped out to make her way around the shelving unit, the electronic doors at the front of the store slid open, drawing her attention.

A cop entered the pharmacy, and adrenalin shot through Dina like a high voltage jolt. Perspiration broke out on the back of her neck and her heart began to thud. She turned her head away, dipping both her chin and her gaze as she sunk back as far as possible into her wide-brimmed hood. Mustering a calm nonchalance she certainly did not feel, she skirted the tall, end cap display of hard pretzels and slipped into the neighboring aisle. She stopped halfway down and perused the first-aid section with enough focus to lead anyone who might notice her to think her life depended on finding the perfect band-aid.

The officer wasn’t here for her. He wasn’t. He couldn’t possibly know she’d run from the police in Baltimore. He couldn’t.

Dina dared not chance looking behind her, but her stomach sank when she sensed someone approaching. As the person got closer, she could feel the mass of him. It was the cop. Had to be. And the man must be build as solid as a brick wall.

He wasn’t here for her. He wasn’t. She repeated the silent mantra, bending at the waist and grasping the first package within reach. Tweezers, she realized. Silver. Pointy-tipped.

Her fingers were trembling, so she released the plastic and cardboard container. However, when she pulled her hand back, her coat sleeve caught the edge of several packages and tweezers went tumbling like inept circus acrobats. Dina scrambled, snatching them up, and hurrying to re-hang them on the metal display hook.

The cop stopped directly behind her. She straightened, closed her eyes, and drew in a breath in an effort to calm her anxiety. And that’s when she smelled him.

The scent of fresh cut sandalwood tickled her nose. Warm and slightly spicy.

He cleared his throat and her eyes flew open.

Could he have picked up a splinter on the job somehow? Be in dire need of a pair of pointy-tipped tweezers? Maybe he’d cut himself shaving and needed one of those small circular band-aids. That would be her luck, all right. A splinter-laden, razor-nicked cop in need of first-aid supplies, and she just happened to be standing right in front of the display.

Her only goal in walking around the pharmacy had been to warm up a little. Although the day was sunny and the outside temperatures on the mild side this morning, it was still winter, and the damp concrete she’d slept on had left her chilled to the bone. Her hips had been aching and her feet had felt like brittle bricks of ice when she’d arrived, and she’d just wanted to limber up, work the cold out of her joints and toes in a heated environment.

“Miss? I need you to come with me.”

How could he possibly have known…

Dina hesitated, nerves forcing her to swallow even though her mouth had gone as dry as coarse sand. She was not going back to Baltimore. Not until she absolutely had to. What compelled her next action, she had no idea—fear, panic, sheer survival instinct—but she spun on her heel and glared into his face.

“I’m not going anywhere with you. This is a free country, and I’ve got rights. I’m staying right here, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

An instant of shock registered on his face. But his jaw quickly set, his lips flattened, and he seemed to grow three inches when he squared his shoulders and straightened his spine.

Oh, Lord, save her. Had she really just gone all rebel on an officer of the law?

“Yeah,” he said, his tone soft but firm, “this is a free country. And you do have rights. Just so long as you don’t take things that don’t belong to you.” He pinched the sleeve of her coat between his fingers. “So put back whatever it is you’ve stolen, and come up to the front counter with me. We need to have a chat with the manager.”

“Wait. What are you talking about?”

He muttered under his breath, then said loud enough for her to hear, “Being uncooperative is only going to make matters worse for you. Your parents are already going to be upset when I call them. It’s bad enough you’re cutting school. Shoplifting is a serious offence.”

Cutting… What? Shoplifting? She looked at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted a grotesque, green beard.

“All right.” He sighed. “We can play this any way you want.”

Her bravado withered like a sycamore leaf in the dead of winter when she felt herself being propelled toward the front of the store. There must have been only an inch of her coat fabric in his grip, but it was enough to force her to toddle along beside his long-legged stride like a twelve-year-old.

Her whole body went hot with utter humiliation.

The store manager, Dina presumed, was the pretty blonde who stood behind the cash register. She had a fresh-faced, just-out-of-high-school look about her, the big wad of gum she nervously chomped on further evidence of her youth.

“So what’d she take?” the girl demanded. “I knew she was up to something.”

The officer’s attention remained riveted to Dina. “I’m going to have to ask you to empty your pockets.”

Dina could no more have stopped her gasp than she could have forced the sea breeze to cease.

“No. I won’t.” She hated the pleading she heard in her tone as she added, “I haven’t taken anything.”

A flicker of something softened the cop’s brown eyes, but only for an instant before he shook his head and pointed to the counter. “Let’s have it. On the counter. Now. Coat pockets. Jean’s pockets. Backpack. Everything.”

She wasn’t normally someone given to bouts of crying or who yielded to doubts or apprehension. But she was tired and achy and filled with the residual fear of having fled a dangerous situation just two short days ago. A lump of raw emotion swelled in her throat and hot tears scorched her eyes sockets.

She would not cry, damn it.

When she spoke, the words grated like a rusty bolt. “I’ll do what you ask, but it’s under protest. I did not take anything from this store.”

The bar of soap in the large, clear plastic bag she tugged from her coat pocket thunked against the counter when she dropped it. Ticket stubs for the bus ride that had brought her to town. Several wadded tissues.

“There,” the blonde said, satisfaction palpable in the jab of her finger when she pointed, “soap, a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste. She’s been in here two mornings in a row. I knew she was stealing from us, Officer Thomas.” Smugly, she added, “I knew it.”

Dina lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes at the young woman. “I didn’t steal that. I paid for the toothbrush and toothpaste. The soap, too. Yesterday morning.” She searched the pockets of her jeans and then slapped a receipt on the counter.

The cop picked up the slip of paper and took a moment to study it. He handed it to the manager. His tone became much less harsh when he asked Dina, “Nothing else in your pockets?”

She’d already set her wallet beside the plastic bag. She watched him rummage quickly through her backpack.

“Janey,” the cop said to the store manager, “there’s no fingernail polish in here. You told me you saw her take a bottle of red nail polish.”

The blonde looked contrite. “I think what I said was that she possibly could have taken—”

“No. You didn’t. You were adamant that she took the polish.”

Janey’s cute face squinched as she whined, “Officer Thomas, Dad docked my pay last week because of shoplifters. He said I wasn’t being vigilant enough.”

“You cannot go around accusing people of stealing, Janey.”

“But I was certain a bottle of polish had gone missing. She’s been roaming around, buying nothing, for a solid forty minutes. I’m here by myself. Dad doesn’t get in until nine. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Her only thought to escape this fracas and any further chance that she’d have to interact with the officer, Dina snatched up her things and stuffed them into her backpack. She slung the strap over her shoulder and headed for the front door. She could still hear the two of them going back and forth when bright sunshine hit her face and the cold, salt-tinged breeze snaked its way into her hood and down the neck of her coat. The cooling sensation was actually a relief after that sweat-inducing accusation she’d just endured.

She’d taken several steps across the parking lot when the officer shouted at her from the pharmacy’s entrance. Dina wanted to ignore him, wanted to scuttle away and hide like a crab fleeing a hungry seagull, but that behavior would look nothing but suspicious.

Her steps slowed as her nearly non-existent options twirled in her head along with the possible repercussions.

Hearing him jogging toward her, she stopped, let her eyes roll closed, and murmured softly to herself, “Please, don’t let me say anything that gets me into any more trouble. I just want a little peace. Please.”

Dina had no idea to whom she whispered the words. Her mother would automatically offer an approving nod at what she’d call a “prayer to the angels.” Dina wasn’t so sure about all the angelic mysteries she’d been spoon-fed while growing up. Not that she deemed it total baloney; no, she preferred to keep an open mind about such esoteric things. Just because a belief lacked tangible evidence was no reason to disregard it. And as her mom always said, nonbelievers had no solid proof, either.

What Dina could say was that her whispered mantras habitually sprang to her lips at times of great stress. If nothing else, the words encouraged her to be more mindful of her behavior, of her words, and of her thoughts. All perfectly good practices as far as she was concerned.

Just as the officer touched her on the shoulder, she opened her eyes, forced a smile on her mouth, and turned to face him.

“Hey, listen,” he said, “I’m awfully sorry about what happened in there.”

“No problem.” Dina did her best to keep her attitude friendly. Light and breezy. “Really. I’m fine. Everything is all good.”

“Janey’s young. Over protected by helicopter-parents.”

The bright, morning sunlight made him squint and burnished his brown hair with deep chestnut highlights. Noticing attractive men was not on Dina’s To-Do list while she was in Ocean City. Her plan included two actions only: keeping her head low and remaining inconspicuous for the next couple of weeks.

“I understand,” she told him. “Like I said, I am one hundred percent fine. No worse for the wear at all.”

His jaw squared and he shifted his weight on his feet. “I let her know she owed you an apology.”

“That’s not necess—”

“And I also made it perfectly clear,” he continued, “that she was not to call the police unless she or one of her employees actually witnessed a crime being committed.”

“It would be good if that didn’t happen to anyone else. Being called a thief is about as fun as participating in the Polar Plunge.”

“I can imagine. Come on back inside.” He made a small waving motion with his hand. “Give Janey a chance to tell you how sorry she is. And then you can finish up your shopping.”

Dina wasn’t going back in that pharmacy. No way. No how. It didn’t matter if the zombie apocalypse had the undead shuffling across the parking lot toward her.

“I’m good,” she said, nodding in emphasis. “I don’t need to go back in. I got what I was after.”

He stared for a moment, digesting what she’d said. His smile slipped, and then the tiniest of frowns marred the space between his eyebrows.

Her lips parted and she inhaled sharply.

“Heat,” she hurried to explain. “I went inside to warm up. I was freezing.”

“Ah, so that explains the hood.”

Without thinking, she reached up and fingered the edge of the wool fabric. “Well, hoods were invented to protect the head from cold temperatures.”

“True,” he said, “but people don’t normally shop with them pulled up over their faces. I’ve got to tell you, you had a bit of a gangsta’ look going on there.”

“That’s not against the law, is it?”

Crap. Stop poking the bear, Dina. Had she been alone, she’d have voiced the thought out loud. Then again, had she been alone she wouldn’t have had cause to do any verbal sparring.

He burst out laughing. “Give the lady a prize. She’s right a second time.”

The sound of his laughter took her off guard and she felt momentarily breathless. Standing this close to him, she couldn’t help but notice the rich, warm gold that flecked his brown eyes, and his smile was downright infectious. Merely for something to do with her hands, she tossed back the hood of her coat, and immediately, the breeze blew a strand of her hair across her face.

His grin went lopsided. “I was only teasing you about the gangster look. Honest.”

Humor budded to life inside her, but the riot of nervous energy simmering in her chest prevented her from doing anything but stare. She wanted to laugh with him; she just couldn’t.

That uniform he wore sparked a sense of dread in her, and that seemed fairly normal, given her predicament. So why did this bantering feel so darned delicious?

“Aw, you’re still upset.” He tilted his head. “I can tell.”

Finally, she tilted her head. “You threatened to call my parents.”

He looked like a cute puppy who’d gotten caught chewing an expensive shoe.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “With that hood pulled up, I thought you were a teen. I can see now you’re much older.”

“Well, thank you very much.”

“Wait. That’s not what I meant. Not at all.” The sound he emitted was a cross between a chuckle and a groan. “I should shut up. I’m only making things worse.” Then his gaze lit and his brows arched. “Why don’t you let me take you to breakfast? You know, to make up for this whole mess.”

“Oh, no.” She lifted her hand, palm out, and shook her head. Then she instantly checked her tone. She added, “Thank you, but that isn’t necessary.”

Once again, his smile waned, but now he looked solemn.

“I know it’s not necessary.”

Since following her outside, he’d changed. His voice had lost every nuance of its professional, hard edges, the ones that had induced that heavy feeling of being trapped when he’d forced her to empty her pockets. In fact, it had gone all warm and inviting.

“The truth of the matter is,” he continued, “I’m obviously to blame for some of that mix up in there. Besides assuming you were just a kid intent on getting away with something, I should have asked Janey more questions before I approached you.” His head bobbed a little. “I should have waited. Watched. I should have shown more patience.”

She didn’t care how dreamy his eyes were or how infectious his smile, spending any more time with this man than was absolutely necessary was not only a bad idea, it could be extremely risky.

“You were only doing your job.” She hitched her backpack higher onto her shoulder. “I appreciate your offer, but—”

“I feel bad…. Uh, I don’t even know your name.” He blinked. “I don’t want this to give you a bad impression of our town.” He reached up and scrubbed at his jaw. “We accused you of shoplifting. Janey was irresponsible. I was heavy-handed. Not to mention presumptuous. And wrong.” He shook his head woefully. “This is just a very bad start to everyone’s day, now, isn’t it?”

Dina took in his wrinkled brow, his contrite expression. The man looked positively wretched.

Then his tone brightened as he added, “Lucky for both of us, we can always begin again, right? So what do you say? Let’s start over. It’s time for my break. And I’m starved. We can walk across Coastal Highway to one of my favorite places to eat. The sound of the waves. The sparkle of the sunlight on the ocean. A hot cup of coffee will warm you right up. And a stack of fluffy, buttery blueberry pancakes will set everything right. I just know it.”

If the smile he’d offered before had been alluring, this one was enough to melt a woman’s heart to the point that it oozed down her ribcage to pool in a sappy mess in the pit of her belly.

That she was even considering his offer was crazy. Utterly nut-house insane.

But what happened in the pharmacy had been a mistake. She’d compounded her own fear by thinking he knew she was on the run. He hadn’t known. No one in Baltimore knew where she was, and no one in Ocean City knew who she was. Now that she’d had time to calmly realize that, there was no reason for her to believe that her secret was anything but safe.

The man had offered to buy her a meal. Hadn’t she slept on a cement slab last night in an effort to conserve her cash? This was, as her mother would have claimed, an unexpected blessing from the Universe. To refuse to accept could very well be an insult.

Oh, man. A silent moan reverberated through her mind. Her angel-worshiping mother would be so proud of her. Gah!

There was no need to make up fancy notions or fearful justifications. If she wanted to accept the pancakes the guy was offering, she should just do it. He was a nice enough, now that he wasn’t trying to arrest her. He was a good looking man. But, of course, that was just a fortunate fluke, right? The most important thing was that her secret was safe. And there was no reason why it wouldn’t remain that way.

Dina sighed, the pent-up tension in her body gradually dissipating. She offered him an open and easy smile and said, “Maybe we should start over.”

His blatant pleasure made her insides go weak.

“I’m Gav,” he told her, reaching out his hand. “Gav Thomas.”

Her fingers slid against his until their palms connected in a snug grasp. Gav gave her hand a firm shake.

“Dina,” she told him. “Call me Dina.”