She gazed levelly at him. "Those two men were armed and dangerous. I wasn't about to let them get away."

"One of those suspects came within an inch of gaining control of your weapon. You could have turned a robbery into a hostage situation, or worse."

"I know you're having a hard time believing this," she said, "but I happen to be a professional. I'm good at-"

"So I've heard. That's not what's in question here."

"But my judgment is?"

"Knowing what I do about you personally, and your past, I'd be a fool not to question your judgment after today."

"I see." Her chin went up, and Nick knew he'd scored a direct hit. "You're convinced I'm skewed because of the shooting."

"Are you?" he asked.

"You've already decided, so why does it matter what I think?"

"Look, Erin, cops react to shootings in different ways. Some retreat. Some quit. Some turn to alcohol. Look at the divorce rate. The suicide rate, for God's sake. You don't have to make up for something you did or didn't do in that warehouse."

She crossed her arms in front of her. "Now you're a shrink."

"I'm the chief of police-and your superior. I have a right to know where your head is. My life-or my deputies' lives-depends on that."

"I'm sure this isn't what you want to hear, Chief, but if I were faced with the same situation right now, I'd react the same way."

"That's fine. I'll assign you accordingly."

Wariness flooded her gaze. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That means you've got the school crosswalks until I think you're ready for something with more responsibility."

Nick didn't miss the minute jolt that traveled through her body when he hit her with the news. Couldn't she see he was doing this for her own good?

Heat flashed in her eyes. "That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair, McNeal. You of all people ought to know that."

"You can't do this."

"I just did. I suggest you get used to it. That's your assignment indefinitely. I'll decide when to change it. When I think you've come to terms with whatever's eating at you, we'll talk about it again."

"I have come to terms."

"Prove it to me."

"You've no right penalizing me-"

"This has nothing to do with you personally. All I'm concerned about is your well-being and the safety of your fellow deputies and the citizens of this town. Take it or leave it. It's your call."

Nick held his breath as he watched the inner struggle tear at her. He saw temper and restraint and a hefty dose of ego pulling her in different directions. He knew she wanted to tell him to go take a flying leap, but he also knew she had too much to lose to succumb to the urge.

After a moment, she squared her shoulders and looked him dead in the eye. "All right, Chief. Have it your way. I'll take the assignment."

Inwardly, he smiled. She'd passed the test. Restraint had won. They might just get through this, after all. "Good," he said.

"That doesn't mean I have to like it." Frowning, she raised her hand to push a tendril of hair away from her face.

"Police work isn't about what we…" His voice trailed off when he spotted the nasty abrasion on her elbow. "What happened to your arm?"

She glanced down at her elbow. "I must have done it in the scuffle. It's no big deal."

Nick knew better than to touch her. He'd been around the block a few too many times to court the kind of trouble a touch would rouse. He didn't like the way he was reacting to her as it was. He knew if he touched her, if he discovered her skin was as soft and warm and fragrant as he imagined, it would only make dealing with her even more complex.

"You ought to have it looked at," he said stiffly.

"It's just a scratch. I'll take care of it."

She was so close he could smell the clean scent of her hair. The warm, flowery aroma of whatever she'd put in the tub. A droplet of water clung to a dark lock of hair behind her ear. Nick stared at it, wondering what it would be like to catch that droplet with his tongue and get a taste of the tender flesh beneath. He wondered if she would taste as good as she smelled.

He fought another rush of blood to his groin. He denied it. He cursed it. But his body betrayed his intellect, reacting with an intensity that left him incredulous and disturbed. Now wasn't the time. This wasn't the place. And Erin McNeal wasn't the woman.

Some inner warning told him to get out of there. Nick stepped back, breaking the spell he had absolutely no desire to explore. Shaken by his reaction, he turned away and started toward the door.

He felt her stare on his back, but he didn't stop. He knew he was running. But he didn't care. As long as he didn't let this woman get to him, he'd be fine. He'd had his fill of risk takers. A few months in Logan Falls, then she'd go back to Chicago, and Nick would be rid of her. He might like the way she looked; under different circumstances he might have liked to get her in his bed. But Erin McNeal was the last woman he wanted to care about.

He left without looking back.

The Midwestern sky shimmered Caribbean blue as Erin strapped on her fluorescent orange vest and left her cruiser. Dressed in full uniform and toting her safety flag, she crossed the street to the Logan Falls Elementary School, prepared to drudge through an assignment she had absolutely no desire to complete.

Let Nick Ryan have his petty revenge, she told herself as she unrolled the flag and watched the school zone caution lights blink on. At least he'd changed his mind about firing her. That was something to be thankful for, since she was pretty much starting at ground zero when it came to her career. She'd get her problems ironed out here in Logan Falls. If all went as planned, in a few months she'd be ready to move on to a bigger town. Maybe even Chicago -if Frank would have her back.

A school bus breezed by. Erin mustered a smile and waved, taking her place at the crosswalk. A light breeze rustled the leaves of the maples and elms along Commerce Street. The drone of a lawn mower sounded in the distance. She breathed in the scent of fresh-cut grass and felt a growing sense of contentment as Logan Falls 's version of rush hour commenced. Mothers dressed in housecoats dropped their children curbside. The older kids gathered on the sidewalk where Erin stood, their soft voices and laughter sounding as foreign to her as another language.

After nine years of working some of Chicago 's toughest neighborhoods, Erin had thought crosswalk duty would bore her to tears. Oddly, she found herself enjoying the simplicity of the assignment, watching the children, the fierce hugs of mothers as they bade them goodbye, and experiencing firsthand the wholesome goodness of small-town life.

She had expected to be disappointed by the lack of action, by the absence of the danger that had sustained her for so many years. To her surprise, she found herself feeling protective of the townspeople she'd sworn to serve and protect. She felt as if she'd stepped back in time, to a place that was pure and simple, a place where people obeyed the laws of the land because they believed in doing the right thing.

Within the first hour of her shift, she'd chatted with the principal, Mrs. Helmsley, about the new bleachers she wanted to have built on the north side of the track. Erin had helped a fourth-grade student find her lost notebook. Her self-discipline had caved in when a first grader with missing front teeth asked her if she wanted to buy a grossly overpriced chocolate bar. Erin ended up buying two.

A far cry from Chicago, she mused, remembering too many other children whose worlds had been ravaged by poverty, their minds and bodies polluted by crack or heroin or whatever other poison they'd been unlucky enough to get introduced to. As she stood at the crosswalk, watching the scene unfold like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting, she wondered if Nick realized how lucky he was.