“Wow,” I said, leaning back against the cemetery fence. The firm bricks steadied me, but I wished the breeze would wash the rest of that burnt chemical scent out of the air. Not that I would have forgotten about the crashed truck just ten feet away from us if I couldn’t have smelled the broken engine. “I mean... Wow.”

Yikes. Okay, I’d admit I wasn’t the most articulate person ever, but repeating the same three-letter-word over and over was a new low even for me.

I’d like to have blamed my tongue-tied-ness on the fact that I’d almost gotten run over half an hour ago, but the truth was it probably had more to do with the guy who’d saved me. The guy who was standing next to me right now while we watched the police officers talk with the driver of the pick-up truck.

The very, very hot guy. Tall, broad shoulders packing muscle to spare, shaggy dark brown hair, and bright green eyes—if I had a type, he checked off every box on the list. Even without the heroic tendencies he clearly also had.

His posture, standing there, struck me as a little tense. And he was keeping a careful distance from me. Maybe he wanted to get going to wherever he’d been jogging to when we’d smiled at each other a half hour ago? The cops had asked us to stick around in case they needed to check our account against the driver’s story.

Or… A guy this fine must have women throwing themselves at him on a regular basis. Was he worried I’d take his rescue as an excuse to rope him into a painful flirtation?

I mean, I was thinking about flirting. But we could leave out the painful part. I wasn’t so desperate I’d grovel at his feet if he just wasn’t interested. It wasn’t like I got a whole lot of male attention in general. I was used to it.

Nothing wrong with giving him an opening, though. Part of Project: Get Grace’s Life Back On Track was being more forward with people even when I was nervous as hell. No time like the present to put that into practice.

I sucked in a breath and glanced over at the guy. “Thank you again. You have no idea how much I mean that. I’m Grace, by the way.”

He tipped his head in acknowledgment. “Jeremy, and you’re welcome. It was the least I could do. I’m glad you’re okay.”

His voice was warm—and low enough to send a pleasant shiver over my skin—but his gaze still looked wary.

I motioned to the street around us, which was now cluttered with a couple of police cars and an ambulance, although the paramedics had declared that my hero was nothing more than slightly bruised. “Do you... jog around here a lot?”

Very slick, Grace. Excellent conversational skills. I winced inwardly at my awkwardness, but Jeremy seemed to relax a little. “Pretty regularly, yeah, actually.” He patted the bag slung over his shoulder. “I go out to take photos in the parks around the city every week. Then I try to get a little exercise on my way back to make up for all the time I’ll spend sitting at my computer editing them.”

“Oh, you’re a photographer? That’s so cool.” And he was a successful enough photographer that it sounded like he did it full time. I studied the camera bag, wondering if it’d be rude to ask to see his equipment. The camera equipment, that was, not that I wasn’t thinking about what he might be packing in, er, other places. “It must give you a pretty interesting perspective. Seeing the world from all different angles, with all different framings.”

Jeremy blinked. He looked at me a little more intently then, as if he hadn’t been giving me his full attention before. “That’s one way of putting it. I hadn’t thought of it exactly like that before. But yeah. I like experiencing the world through a lens. It makes it seem simpler than it actually is.” He laughed. It was a nice laugh, warm as his voice and unhurried.

I thought of my faded photo albums back home. Yeah, life through a camera sure did seem a lot simpler. Before a lump could rise in my throat, I barreled onward with the conversation. “Have you seen a lot of the world, then? Travel photography and all that?”

“I’ve gotten around. A few places in Europe and Asia, even to Egypt once. Occasionally I take on private clients willing to send me overseas to get just the right images for them.”

He must have a really impressive portfolio if someone was willing to fly him over to Egypt just to snap some pics. “That’s amazing,” I said. “I’m a little jealous.”

He grinned crookedly. “Don’t be. Most times those trips involved more stress than vacation time. Are you a traveler?”

I shrugged. “Not much of one. I’ve been up to L.A. a few times, and to Mexico once as a kid. Otherwise I’ve just stuck around here. Pretty pathetic. But there are a bunch of places I’d like to see.” Someday. When I felt ready to step that far out of my shell. One thing at a time.

Jeremy’s voice dipped a little. “I don’t think there’s anything pathetic about that, Grace. There’s a lot to be said for having a stable home base.”

The way he said my name made my heart flutter. I looked over at him and found him gazing right back at me with those gorgeous green eyes. That sight set off a whole bunch more fluttering. “That’s true,” I said, hoping my voice still sounded steady. “A lot of people don’t seem to appreciate that.”

Something in the air between us had shifted. I wasn’t just imagining that, was I? I’d caught his interest, somehow or other. I had to take the leap.

Just ask him if he wants to grab dinner sometime—or lunch—or, hell, a coffee. You couldn’t get any lower pressure than that. It wasn’t like he couldn’t say no if I’d read him wrong.

I opened my mouth—and one of the police officers strolled up to us, holding a clipboard. “Ms. Trevell,” she said. “Can I ask you a few more questions?”

Like I was going to say no to a cop. “Sure,” I said, swallowing my disappointment—and maybe a little nervous relief. It wasn’t my fault I hadn’t asked Jeremy out.

Another cop came over to chat with Jeremy while the woman led me over to the scene of the crash. A tow truck had pulled up, but the pickup truck was still mashed against the cemetery fence, its hood crumpled and windshield shattered.

My body had come just seconds from being smashed between that fender and those concrete blocks. I hugged myself, holding in a shudder at the thought.

“I’d just like to go over the basics of your account again,” the officer said. She motioned to the sidewalk in front of us. “Can you walk me through what happened, moment by moment from when you came out of the cemetery?”

“Okay.” I glanced over to the gate. “I came out and started heading this way. I was going to walk home—my house is about fifteen minutes from here. I think I’d only taken a few steps when I heard the truck swerving toward me.”

“And that was when Mr. Lowe stepped in.” She nodded to Jeremy.

“Yes. He was jogging this way, and he must have seen the car first. He jumped right out in—”

I hesitated, running through the memory in my head again. Everything had happened so fast. The moment before the crash was a blur other than the squeeze of Jeremy’s fingers around my forearm and the thunder of my heart in my ears. But I knew I’d glanced at the truck and seen it heading straight for me. And Jeremy had thrown himself between me and it, right in front of it... hadn’t he?

But if he had, how had it not hit him?

“Ms. Trevell?” the cop said.

“I, um...” I shook my head. “Sorry. It freaks me out a little remembering it.” I had to be remembering it wrong. There was no way Jeremy could have moved between me and the truck and then only suffered a bruised elbow. In my panic, it wasn’t as if I’d been paying that much attention. He’d pulled me back. That was all.

Farther down the street, the other officer must have been asking Jeremy the same things. My hero took a quick step and gestured as if yanking something—showing how he’d intervened. He remembered it being much less of a leap than I did. Shock did funny things to a person’s memory, I guessed.

“He jumped right toward me,” I corrected myself. “Grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the way just in time. I’m so lucky he was there. I couldn’t have reacted in time on my own.”

That must have been what happened. So why was a weird prickling running down my spine?

I was still shaken up from the accident, that was all. Too freakin’ sensitive about everything, as Britta at work always said. I rubbed my arms. “Is there anything else you needed to know?”

The cop asked a couple more questions about what I’d noticed about the truck and its driver, which wasn’t a whole lot since I’d been busy not getting killed. Then she waved me back to my previous spot by the fence. “I think we’ll be able to let you two go in a few minutes. Sorry for the hold-up.”

When I meandered over, Jeremy was already standing by the fence. He was examining his hand. My gaze caught on a streak of red across one knuckle. My stomach flipped over.

“Are you okay? I thought the paramedics already checked you out.”

He jerked his hand back toward his side. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a scratch. It just started bleeding again, but hardly at all.”

He was bleeding because he’d raced in there to save me. I bit my lip. The ambulance had zoomed off once the paramedics had determined we were essentially uninjured. The cops were busy talking to one another.

Well, I could handle this myself, couldn’t I?

“Let me see,” I said, holding out one hand as I dug the other into my purse. “I’ve got a bandaid in here somewhere.”

“You really don’t have to,” Jeremy started, but I held up a finger to cut him off.

“You saved me from getting mashed into road kill. The least I can do is stick a bandaid on you. Come on.”

His lips twitched with what might have been suppressed amusement. He let me examine his hand. I tried to focus on the shallow scrape across his middle knuckle and not how enjoyable his warm skin felt against my fingers.

“You’re right,” I said, keeping my tone light. “It’s not too bad at all. I’ve had worse from the cats at work.”

Jeremy chuckled, a sound I liked almost as much as the way he said my name. “Veterinarian? Pet store clerk?” he asked as I smoothed the bandaid over his knuckle.

“I work for the animal rescue shelter downtown. Not as exciting as jet-setting around the world taking photographs.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “But if you enjoy it... I guess you must like animals.”

“When they’re not scratching me.” I gave his hand a pat and reluctantly let go of it. “I guess I just enjoy knowing I’m taking care of them when they can’t take care of themselves. And finding new homes for them.”

He nodded. “I always wanted a dog when I was a kid... Never got around to actually adopting one.”

For a second, he looked strangely sad. As if there was a lot more to that story than just a guy who’d never owned a dog. The emotion vanished as quickly as it had risen up, but it tugged at my heart all the same. And the words just tumbled out of my mouth.

“You know, we’ve been talking about getting some fancier photos taken of some of the animals. To try to boost adoption rates. We hadn’t hired anyone yet. But if you’re local, and, I mean, if you have the time—”

Jeremy stared at me. Shit, I was totally babbling, wasn’t I? I’d meant to ask him on a date, not try to hire him for a job. But I couldn’t seem to stop talking. “I guess we probably can’t even afford you. Never mind. It was a silly idea. I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” Jeremy broke in. “I mean, yes. I have the time. I can charge on a sliding scale. I’d be happy to help out. Let me give you my card, and you can get in touch with the details.”