It didn’t take long for the cycling commute to get old. Or just too wet on the rainy days, too cold on the cool days, too hot on the warm days, too sweaty on all days. Cheri decided to go back to taking the subway. This time armed with a can of Mace—just in case. She followed the story of the second metro attack, but there was little to report; authorities were still looking for the perpetrator. In her opinion, they didn’t seem to be looking too hard.

She felt surprisingly calm as she waited for the train, until someone sat next to her and nudged her. Her body shook with the memory of the bad moment that had caused her to stop riding the metro in the first place. She looked down at her elbow and focused on a hand holding a piece of paper. She looked away quickly, focusing hard to ignore him.

“Take it,” said the guy, maybe in his mid-twenties.

“Um, no thanks,” she said, shying away again and refusing to look him in the eye.

The man dropped the paper at her feet and shrugged. “Either way, you’ve been served,” he said triumphantly, then moved away from her.

A process server? Seriously? He didn’t even ask my damn name! Cheri rolled her eyes and picked up the document.

Her hands began to shake as she read it and discovered that she was being sued by the gunman, who insisted on capitalizing on the fact that the cops didn’t arrest him. The guy who had tried to take her purse, pulled a gun on her, was now unbelievably bringing a civil suit against her because he knew she couldn’t make her case against him.

As soon as she got a cell phone signal, she called the cop who had taken her report but refused to arrest her mugger. Of course the call went straight to voicemail, but after the beep, she let him have it, ranting for a good full minute into her phone. The echoes of her message rolled down into the train tunnel, garnering distasteful looks from other commuters.

She tossed the phone into her purse. Scared, frustrated, and wishing luck would finally come her way.

To her horror, the cop she’d just called was in the metro station. Working his freakin’ beat, probably.

She recognized him as he stalked toward her, his cell at his ear. In spite of her annoyance with him, he really was quite handsome. She might have felt some attraction if she wasn’t so ticked off by the fact that he blatantly refused to arrest her attacker.

“There’s nothing I can do without a corroborating witness,” said the cop defensively.

“Do the math,” she fired back.

“I did! No gun, no corroborating witness, and a crowd of people who only saw the two of you, plus no sign of this mysterious cowboy you said you saw. It equals no grounds to haul anyone down to the station.”

“He’s suing me now!” responded Cheri. “He’s suing me! You saw that guy. Tell me how the hell could I have managed to cuff him to that rail, when his arms are twice the size of my thighs? Besides, do you think I just walk around with handcuffs in my purse?”

The cop gave her a salacious look that turned her stomach, then patiently reiterated, “It’s not…impossible. We have no video footage, and there are no witnesses, and… Look, do I need to keep repeating this? Personally, I’m inclined to believe you, but I’ve gotta go by the book or the case would be thrown out anyway.”

“Meanwhile, he can bring a case against me based on his word against mine,” she said.

“Out of my hands,” he said with a shrug. “That’s a civil issue, and I’m just on the executive, criminal end of the law.”

“Damn straight you are,” she snapped, “because it’s criminal that you let the guy go after what he did to me!”

“If you can track down this cowboy of yours, that would solve everything.”

Cheri sighed, knowing he was right. She had no choice but to find Thomas and beg him to back her up. If she had to, she could hire a lawyer to subpoena him and make him talk; she was truly that desperate for his cooperation at this point. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure Perry Mason himself could find the man in the boots.

Besides the chance encounter at the coffee shop, every so often she thought she spied his glorious head of hair above the crowd once or twice, but she had no idea where to locate him. Cheri had never even noticed Thomas before and had never seen him before that fateful day. Her only solace was that they seemed to live and travel on similar schedules, so she knew bumping into him again wasn’t a total impossibility.

Based on what little she knew about him, she assumed he lived somewhere in her neighborhood or near it. The northeast part of Washington, D.C. was undergoing major renovations. The low-rent district had become the cool place to live and work, and housing was still affordable, though prices were on the rise. Cheri had gotten a great deal on an old house a couple of years prior, and she wondered if he’d found a cozy, affordable place to kick off his boots too.

Companies were also taking advantage of the cheap real estate. Cheri’s employer was not all that far from her home. Technically, she could have walked to work, but she didn’t thoroughly trust the neighborhood, especially after the incident in the metro and the horrible things she was reading about in the paper. Thomas certainly wasn’t the suit-and-tie type and didn’t look like a corporation or white-collar employee or CEO, but he did catch the train to somewhere else before she got on and off in the emerging business district. His strong physique and rugged appearance led her to believe he might be a construction worker; there were lots of those about, with all the remodels and contract sites about.

She had to wonder, though, if he might have had something to do with law enforcement. After all, he did act like a cop that day, with all that cocky demanding, and he did own a pair of handcuffs. She didn’t understand why he was so keen on leaving the scene if that was the case, though, because he’d acted as if he was intimidated by the presence of other police officers. Maybe he was undercover and couldn’t risk blowing his cover, she thought, but he didn’t seem to have the wardrobe of some decently-paid detective. Both times she’d seen him beyond that incident, his clothes seemed awful worn. Wherever he collected his paychecks, she was a little jealous of the people who got to spend their days working with him.

After the coffee encounter, Cheri had tried to push him from her thoughts. Thomas’s rejection of her simple thank-you dinner invitation hurt, but even more than that, it was a stark reminder of how lonely her life was. Every day, it was the same routine: get up, go to work, and go home alone. She had met the cowboy, and now she wanted her life to be more of a rodeo.

She found a little humor in the fact that her life now included searching for Thomas. At least it’s something new to do, she thought as she pondered where he might be. She was just about to set out on her nightly quest when she saw the black sky looming beyond the big picture windows of her office. The weatherman had been calling for fierce thunderstorms, and while she usually dismissed them because they always seemed to give apocalyptic, shock-and-awe weather reports that seldom came true, this time, they appeared to be right.

The gathering clouds looked potent, and they made her anxious. There was nothing like racing to the metro from the office, dodging open manhole covers, and trying to avoid sky-splitting flashes of lightning while deftly passing metal bike racks and railings of all sorts. Hoping to beat the downpour and the onslaught, she immediately gathered up her stuff to head out.

Unfortunately, Cheri underestimated the arrival of the storm. The second she stepped outside, wind gusts lifted her skirt. She fought the torrential draft and made it into the metro station, only to catch the last tidbit of the station manager’s announcement of potential shutdowns due to weather. Only a portion of her travel was above ground, and she hoped the delays and postponements wouldn’t affect her.

As her stormy luck would have it, though, as soon as the train navigated through the first tunnel the power went out. Auxiliary lights dimly illuminated the place, but that did very little to calm her or the other passengers, particularly a wide-eyed little boy who was clutching his stuffed turtle so tightly that its eyes were bugging out from behind its orange ninja bandana.

Panic rose within her, and her chest tightened to the point where she thought she couldn’t breathe. She checked her cell phone for a signal and, of course, saw no bars. All she could do was close her eyes and pray that she wouldn’t succumb to a full-blown claustrophobic episode and make a fool of herself in front of a six-year-old.

“Hey…”

Cheri opened her eyes instantly at the familiar husky, low voice.

There was her cowboy, staring over at her. His amazing hazel eyes seemed to glow in the near darkness of the dimly-lit train car. Somehow, someway, as elusive as he was when she was out looking for him, he always seemed to turn up wherever and whenever she needed him most.

“Unbelievable,” she murmured, her speech slurred by fear and a rush of adrenaline from their unexpected reunion.

“Take my hand,” he said.

Without a second thought, Cheri placed her trembling hand in his. As she thought, he was a working man, evidenced by his powerful, strong grip, knotted here and there with calluses. He practically lifted her to her feet with a single tug, then led her to the back of the car where it was just the two of them.

“We should be moving in about eight minutes,” he said, attempting to be quiet but failing miserably due to the deep baritone that echoed from his throat. The sound was remarkably soothing, though, and when he wrapped his arm around her she felt entirely safe.

“How do you know?” she quietly asked as her breathing restored, and her panic slowed to a calmer simmer.

“I’ve been listening to the driver communicating with the station,” he said. “They should have the power restored in no time. I noticed you freaking out a little. I thought maybe if you sat here, where you can hear what’s going on, you’ll feel better.”

“I’ve been looking for you,” she confessed, still amazed by the coincidence of him showing up just then. “I should’ve known all I had to do was spill something on myself or get stuck on the train to find you. You seem to show up wherever trouble is,” she said, offering him a weak smile. “Do you have a cape hidden in some phone booth?”

He shook his head, and a little grin washed across his face. “We’ve been running into each for quite some time. You’ve just never noticed me before.”

Cheri nearly snorted with disbelief. “I doubt I’d have missed you. Wait… but you noticed me?” she asked, incredulous. “Did you see me before the day that jerk tried to rob me?”

His hazel eyes swept over her body in a sensual swoop, warming her from head to toe. “Yes,” he said huskily. “I did.”

“Thomas,” she said seriously, “the cops let the guy go. After you took off, a crowd gathered around him, and they all looked at me like I was the bad guy. The cops couldn’t hold him on any charges because it was my word against his. They don’t have security footage or witnesses, and… Well, now he’s filed a civil suit against me.”

“You’re jokin’.” When he realized she wasn’t, he muttered, “What the hell? That’s awful.”

“Yeah, it is. However, the officer told me that if you’ll back up my story, they can turn everything around.”

This time, Thomas offered nothing but silence.

Shocked, Cheri just stared at him. As far as she was concerned it was a no-brainer, and she didn’t understand his stubborn hesitation. “I don’t know if you saw it in the paper, but there was a second attack in the subway,” she continued. “I think he did it again.”

“Well, that’s good, in a way. It’ll make it easier to catch the prick,” he said flippantly.

“What if he hurts someone next time?” she asked.

“Cheri, we don’t know he was responsible for the second attack. You’re just more…hyper-aware of attacks now because you were the victim of one yourself,” he said. “That stuff happens every day, and that one guy can’t be responsible for all the muggings and robberies. He’s not the first or the last.”

She sighed, rolled her eyes, then looked at him insistently. “What’s the problem here, Thomas? You helped me before, and I’m just asking for your help one more time. I’m in a real mess, and you’re the only one who can get me out of it.”

Again, he remained silent.

Cheri was beyond frustrated; in fact, she was downright pissed. She stood up, about to stomp off to the other end of the train, but the car lurched forward and then jerked to rough stop, which made her lose her footing.

Instantly, Thomas broke her fall and sat her squarely on his lap. If felt so comfortable—and intimate, and erotic—there, which only irritated her further. “I should go.”

Thomas’ hands pressed on her hips like he knew her body already. They sat intimately, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It wasn’t something Cheri ever encountered with other people. There was some sort of undeniable level of comfort, a connection she didn’t feel with anyone else in her day-to-day life. She felt it so strongly, and she wondered if her cowboy felt it, too.

Then she imagined them sitting like this naked. The image just popped into her mind and her hips rotated in response to the thought.

Wrong train of thought, Cheri. She started to pull away but her held close to him, his hands almost caressing her hip bones.

He sighed. “Look, Cheri, I-I I just don’t…get involved with people,” he stuttered, a weak explanation if there ever was one. “I’m sorry if that sounds cold. It’s just the way it is.”

“I’m not asking you to fuck me!” she hissed bluntly. The words fluttered out of her mouth, and as soon as they escaped her lips she realized her mistake. Here she was, sitting on his lap, imaging them fucking, and she said that out of the blue?

His fingers curled over her skin, his nails scraping lightly against the thin material of her skirt. She imagined him bunching it in his fist and pulling it up. Blinking, she forced the image to leave. Dammit! Just one touch from him sent her heart racing. The power of his nearness was like steam rising through her, making her wet. It was total agony to experience, knowing he wanted nothing to do with her. On top of everything, her body was tense all over from the anxiety about being stuck in a train tunnel. At least, that was her excuse.

Her graphic language and frank proclamation brought their interaction to an uneasy standstill. Thomas squirmed at the words and emitted a little noise that was somewhere between a cough and a moan. Cheri’s outburst had taken them to a new place, one she had to admit they were headed to from the moment of their first encounter. They were hot for each other, and despite what she said she very much wanted him to fuck her.

Mercifully, the metro power switched on, the car lit up, and the announcer’s voice broke in over the loudspeaker.

“Train moving,” she said, then finally found the gumption to stand up from his lap. “Thanks for the help. Or should I say, lack of help… yet again.”

Thomas remained in his seat, cool as always. She studied him, and he studied her.

“Have you had dinner?” he asked.

“No,” she said, sulking. “Not sure I want any.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’m talking food on the table, not fucking,” he said, cleverly using her words against her.

The four-letter verb was as jarring and intoxicating from him as when she’d spoken it. It took the stiffness out of her spine, and she thought she would melt. His eyes grew dark with sexuality, as if he was brooding, except there was always something in his expression that suggested an invitation. It was all quite confusing because, despite the denial that gushed from his mouth, he always looked at her like he wanted her.

“Next stop, Restaurantville,” he said. “Want to join me?”

“No,” she said.

He gripped her arm and looked at her with pleading in his eyes. “Please, Cheri,” he begged. “At least give me a chance to explain myself.”

The doors of the train whooshed open and Thomas made a gallant gesture, waving for Cheri to go first. He was so tall and tough, the chivalry looked good on him.

She sighed and finally gave in. It was what she wanted, right? Dinner with him? Talking to him? She stepped out and he followed close behind her.

They were in one of the deepest metro stations, where there were only elevators, no escalators. Cheri had never been a fan of the little enclosed boxes, so her nerves were on edge until they stopped on the upper floor, and she let out a noticeable little gasp of relief.

“Boy, you’re ‘fraid of everything,” he remarked with a smile on his face.

“It’s been a rough couple of weeks.” She watched him from her peripheral vision and caught him smiling. “Do you think it’s funny?”

“I most certainly don’t,” he replied sincerely, tilting his head as a signal to encourage her to ease up a bit. “Why do you always assume the worst? Why would you assume I’d tease you?” he asked.

“I-I don’t know,” she admitted. “I guess I’m just suddenly very uptight about this, uh…situation. I’m sorry for snapping at you, but…”

“But what?”

“I just thought you’d be willing to back me up on my story, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he said then nodded in agreement, careful not to make any promises.

They left the elevators and walked to the street. The rain had let up temporarily, but everything was drenched and the sky was thick with clouds that promised more showers.

“What do you like to eat?” he asked.

You, cowboy, she wanted to answer but didn’t; something about that thick, soothing voice of his left her mind full of naughty thoughts. “I’m a pollo-pescetarian.” When she saw his brows crush together in confusion, she added, “basically a vegetarian.”

“Oh no,” he said, scrunching up his face. “Say it ain’t so.”

“Mostly vegetarian, but I do make exceptions,” she replied.

“Silly girl. That means you’re not a vegetarian at all,” he teased with a laugh.

Cheri didn’t find the situation funny. Had he asked her out after he saved her from the robber, or been willing to take her up on her previous dinner invitation she would have been flattered, but his refusal to help her had left her in a foul mood, feeling even stormier than the roiling sky above them. He seemed to be playing a cruel game with her, luring her closer one minute and pushing her away in the next, and she didn’t appreciate being toyed with no matter how hot her savior was. “Look, maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

“Why not? It’s just dinner,” he argued, still grinning. “A girl’s gotta eat, right?”

“Yes, but that’s the problem. It’s just dinner. I want you to say you’ll tell the cops the truth and help make all my headaches go away,” she said.

“Like I said, a girl’s gotta eat, and so do I,” he said, unnervingly cool, calm, and collected. He then cut her a look and indicated Carmine’s, one of her favorite places. “This okay?” he asked rhetorically, as he’d seen her slip in there countless times.

“I guess it’ll do,” she said flatly, refusing to sound delighted.

He held the door for her, yet another paradox. He had all those smooth, gentlemanly manners, despite his abruptness.

Cheri couldn’t help but eat up the delicious feel of his body as she walked past him into the building, her bad mood easing just a little. She did love the place, even though she didn’t go very often. Not only that, but as miffed as she was she was glad to have Thomas for company.

“You like calamari?” he asked dryly. “I hear theirs is vegetarian.”

“Yeah, I like it,” she said quietly, trying to stifle her laugh at his gentle ribbing.

“So what does a pollo-pesto-tarian eat?”

She pressed her lips tight together a moment to hide her smile. “Pollo-pescetarian,” she corrected. “Vegetarians who eat fish and chicken.” She sat across from him at a table covered with a red-checked cloth. The aroma was powerful and torturous for anyone attempting to live a vegetarian lifestyle.

“Damn, that smells so good,” Thomas said. “And I’ll try to remember that name. Fish and chicken?” He shook his head. “Might as well be a vegetarian.”

On cue, with that delicious-smelling nostril assault, Cheri’s stomach rumbled so loudly she was sure Thomas heard it, since he let out a chuckle.

“Tough, isn’t it?” he asked.

“What?”

“Being almost vegetarian in a place like this.”

“Yeah, the aroma is killing me. I think they have the best everything here.”

The waitress appeared and Cheri ordered unsweetened iced tea, only to change her order when Thomas opted for a glass of red wine.

“Make that a bottle of this,” Thomas said, changing the order again and pointing to the menu.

Cheri looked at him suspiciously, wondering what might happen if wine took their defenses down.

“We’re not driving, right?” he said with a shrug.

“Yeah, well, there’s something unnatural about having Carmine’s without wine,” said Cheri, even though she always did. She glanced out the window to avoid his questioning gaze. “Raining again,” she remarked.

In no time, the waiter set calamari down between them, and Thomas insisted on spiking a piece and feeding it to her.

“So you work for a law firm, huh?” he said.

“Yep.” Had she told him that? She tried to remember what all they’d spoken about. She seemed to only recall staring at him and listening to what he’d told her.

“As…?”

“Paralegal,” she answered.

“Not an actual lawyer?”

“That’s funny. My daddy says the same thing.”

“Hmm. I’m sure that’s about the only thing I’ve got in common with your dad,” he said into his glass.

“Thomas…”

“What?” he asked, a tone of misery in his voice.

“What if I pay you to back me?” she suggested.

He wrenched his face up, as if the notion offended him. “Money’s not the issue,” he said, shaking his head.

“I know, but I’ve got a little in savings,” she continued. “It’s not much, but—”

“Like I said, money’s not the issue,” he repeated through gritted teeth, cutting her off.

She could see she was pissing him off, because the muscles in his firm jaw were working overtime as he spoke. The truth was, though, she was just as frustrated with him. “I really don’t mind,” she said. “I’m happy to pay you for any…inconvenience, for your time and trouble.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he said, wincing. “I’m not for sale, Cheri.”

She smirked. “Does the thought of being with me really make you swear?”

“It just might,” he said, making a face that warned her not to push him. Then, quite randomly and unexpectedly, he reached across the table and cupped her head. He pulled her close to him and kissed her even more fiercely than he had when he rescued her.

“Damn it, Thomas,” she muttered.

“See?” he said, smiling victoriously. “I make you curse, too.”

“So let me get this straight,” she said. “You’re willing to risk getting shot to help me, but rehashing the story to get me out of a lawsuit is a no-go, even if I pay you?”

Thomas cut his eyes at her, looking at her as if he was a force to be reckoned with. She wanted to believe she also saw some tenderness in those eyes, to believe that it was just a tough-guy act and that he had a heart and soul underneath that rugged exterior.

“My lawyer’s very good,” she began, trying a different approach. “I think if I had a deposition from you—”

“Well,” he said, cutting her off again, “if he’s that good, he can make your case without me. Listen, you’re not gonna lose anyway, even without me.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Look, the judge is going to take one look at you and say, ‘C’mon! What are you, five-foot-nothing?’ He’ll have a good laugh and tell the prosecutor he’s a fool for expecting him and the jury to buy that such a little, bitty thing strong-armed that Mark Wahlberg-sized mugger into cuffs. It’ll be ‘case dismissed’ almost before he can bang his gavel. You don’t need me.”

“Maybe, but I know court cases don’t always go as expected. I’m a paralegal, remember? You have something I want, and I can pay you for it,” she offered again.

“You actually said that,” he replied, looking at her strangely.

“It’s either that, or I pay the asshole who pulled a gun on me so he’ll call off the civil suit.”

Thomas sighed as he collected his thoughts. Clearly, he knew helping her was the right thing to do, but he didn’t want to have anything to do with it. “Why don’t we focus on dinner?” he asked.

“I wish I could,” she said.

Thomas sighed again. “Cheri, I just can’t help you.”

“Why not?”

“For reasons I can’t fully explain to you,” he said.

“But you said when you invited me to dinner that you wanted to explain yourself, so you should get to explaining,” she retorted, shaking her head.

“There are just… I’ve got my reasons,” he reiterated, the strain of their conversation weighing in his voice.

“What reasons?” she pressed boldly.

“Privacy, for one thing,” he replied sharply. “It’s really none of your business.”

None of my business? Ouch. The remark stung. How she let herself become so vulnerable around the guy, to the point where he could hurt her feelings, she had no idea. He was quick to help her during the robbery, and that had her thinking there was something extraordinary about him, but ultimately, he didn’t do anything beyond what almost any passerby would do. Of course, not every intervening stranger would have handcuffs, but still… Apart from the fact that he was super good-looking, with that rusty-golden hair, months of overgrowth that probably looked even better than when he first stepped out of the barbershop, she guessed, there was nothing special about this man.

Pissed at his arrogant, nonchalant attitude, she lurched across the two-top, put her hands on his rock-hard chest, and gave him a firm shove.

Thomas didn’t move much, but his eyes sparkled with alarm.

“Dinner’s over, and since you apparently have all the money you could ever need I’ll let you get the check. Thanks for the food.” She collected herself and waltzed out of the restaurant, feeling furious and emotional, as if her whole world had been turned upside down.

She exited and made her way onto the street, with no real plan. Thunder growled across the sky, and the asphalt was pooled with water here and there, as the rain was coming down faster than it could drain off the pavement. Her anxious mind immediately imagined the danger of wading into those puddles while a brutal electrical storm crackled and raged above.

As quickly as her drenched and sloshy feet would carry her, she hurried back to the metro station. The power was out there, thanks to the bloomin’ storm, so she made her way to a few cabs that had lined up along the curb. She was soaked to the bone by the time she reached the third cab, the first two already full and pulling away from the road. The next was occupied as well. Could she not catch a break, anywhere? The rain beat down harder and harder, pummeling her and making her feel even more pathetic, like an absolute loser.

A hand touched her shoulder.

She knew it was Thomas before she even turned around. If not for the sad, punished-puppy look in his eyes she would have ignored him. Instead, she stared at him for a moment, blinked a wayward raindrop out of her eye, and asked tiredly, “What do you want?”

“My place isn’t too far,” he said, his voice rumbling like the distant thunder. “Come on.”

She had no idea why on earth she followed him, but they trotted a block or two, hand in hand, through one of the worst neighborhoods in the city. While it was experiencing some resurgence, the place did have a reputation for violence.

Cheri was skittish when Thomas, still holding her hand, pushed through the wrought-iron gate to the fencing that guarded his lot. Conceivably, lightning could strike the gate and travel through his body and into hers. The gate itself made his house look ominous, like something right out of a horror movie. Her imagination, anxiety, and plethora of phobias worked overtime when she was on edge, and now she was about to walk into the home of a guy she didn’t know.

Sure, she wanted to know him, but she knew that didn’t mean she should.