She raised her head. Her body gave a little jerk when she spotted him. Uncertainty darkened her gaze. A tentative smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

He walked slowly to the gurney, where the on-call doctor was putting in the last of four stitches in a nasty-looking gash at her temple.

"McNeal." Why was it that every time he spoke her name his voice sounded like a rusty nail being pried out of a petrified tree?

"I was wondering when you'd come by to fire me." She looked at her watch. "Two hours. You're slipping."

He stopped next to the gurney and frowned at her. Her hair had come loose from her bun and lay softly against the pillow. Nick repressed the urge to touch it, just to see how it felt between his fingers.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Once the doc stops sticking me with that blasted needle I'll be just fine," she grumbled.

Nick looked at the doctor. "I take it she's going to be okay?"

"She's mildly concussed," the doctor said, his eyes never leaving the small head wound he was stitching. "A few abrasions and contusions. A deep bruise on her hip that's going to be sore for a few days. This is the only wound that needed closing."

"Good thing she's got a hard head." Nick glanced down at her. "You should have known the car would win if you got into a game of chicken."

"I must have missed that day at the academy."

"You going to keep her overnight?" he asked the doctor.

The other man shook his head. "Not necessary. Her pupils are fine, CAT scan is normal. Wake her every two hours. Make sure she's lucid. Make sure she knows her name and the date."

Alarm fluttered in the back of Nick's brain. He looked down at Erin. "You got someone to look after you, McNeal?"

"No, but I can get someone to call-"

"Out of the question," the doctor interrupted. "Someone stays with her or I'll keep her here."

"I'm not staying here all night," she snapped.

Nick felt a moment of panic. If it were any of his other deputies lying on that gurney, he would volunteer for the job. But because it was Erin -a woman who elicited all the wrong responses from him-he found himself hesitating. He did not want to be in this position.

"I'm not staying," she repeated.

"I'll admit you," the doctor warned.

If the situation hadn't been so dire, Nick might have laughed. As it was, he figured he'd be lucky to get through this without doing something he was going to regret.

"I'll keep an eye on her," he said after a moment.

She shot him a startled look. "I don't think-"

"I've got to finish your afternoon shift, anyway," he argued, cutting in. "It's no big deal for me to stop by your apartment every couple of hours."

The doctor tied off the last stitch and shoved the stainless steel tray aside. "Okay, Deputy McNeal, let's sit you up and see how you do." The doctor placed his hand against her back and helped her to a sitting position. "Any dizziness?"

"No. My hip hurts."

"You can ice it when you get home. Headache?"

"No." Then she looked at Nick and frowned. "You're not going to give me a headache over this, are you, Chief?"

The doctor shot an amused look at Nick. "She's all yours, Chief Ryan. No restrictions other than for her to take the afternoon off. She can take over-the-counter medication for pain. Call me if she experiences blurred vision or confusion."

"Thanks, Doc," she muttered.

Nick watched him walk away, then turned his attention back to Erin. "You know, McNeal, I didn't think even you could get into trouble working the school crosswalk."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but the guy in the sedan didn't give me much choice." She sat up straighter.

Nick squelched the urge to reach out to her when she winced. "I guess not."

She glared at him. "This wasn't my fault."

"I didn't say it was."

"You were thinking it."

"Why don't you stop trying to figure out what I'm thinking and concentrate on uncrossing your eyes, so we can get out of here?"

"Careful, or you're going to say something nice and throw me into a tailspin." She touched the bandage on her temple. "Did you catch the guy?"

"No." He frowned, hating the pale cast to her lips and the shadows beneath her eyes. "A couple of witnesses saw the car. A dark sedan with Illinois plates. That's all I've got. Do you feel up to answering a few questions?"

"Of course I do." Grimacing, she swung her legs over the side of the gurney. "Ouch."

Nick reached for her when she swayed, his fingers closing around her biceps. "I can't believe you lied to the doc about being dizzy."

"I'm not dizzy."

"If I hadn't been standing here you would have taken a dive right off that gurney."

"Would not."

"Damn, you're stubborn." Keenly aware of the soft flesh beneath his fingers, and the clean scent of her hair wreaking havoc on his concentration, he stepped back. "Ah, McNeal, what am I going to do with you?"

"Just don't yell at me. I do have a headache, and if you start yelling it's only going to get worse."

Nick didn't want to look into her eyes. He didn't want to see the vulnerability; he didn't like the way it made him feel. But he knew eye contact was inevitable. Once their gazes met, he couldn't look away. "Gladys Delaney wanted me to thank you for saving her daughter's life."

"The little girl in the pink sweater," Erin murmured.

"You got her out of the way just in time. Half the town saw you do it."

Erin looked away, made a show of scraping a speck of dirt from her trousers. "I'm glad she's all right."

Nick wondered why she found it difficult to accept praise. Some sixth sense told him now wasn't the time to pursue it, but he would eventually. "Get dressed, and I'll take you home."

She glanced down at her hospital gown, looking flustered for a moment. "Uh… my shirt is behind you, on the chair."

Turning, he spotted the shirt, lifted it from the chair and found himself staring at her bra. Terrific. Carefully lifting the bit of lace, he handed the shirt and bra to her. "Here you go."

"Thanks. Turn around a second, will you?"

Nick faced the curtain, every sense honed on the rustle of clothing behind him. "I need to ask you about the dark sedan that hit you," he said.

"It was blue or gray. American make. Chrome grille. Tinted windows. Bumper was hard as hell. It's got an indentation of my hip on it. You can turn around."

Nick turned and felt his pulse spike at the sight of her in uniform with all that hair tumbling over her shoulders. His brain stalled for an instant, but he managed to hang on to his concentration by a thread. "Did you see the driver?"

"The sun was glaring off the windshield. I didn't see faces, but I think there were two people in the car." Gingerly, she put her feet on the floor and stood.

"Two people?" At first Nick had thought they were dealing with a drunk driver, but something niggled at him. The car had Illinois plates, for one thing. The time of day didn't sit right, either. "What's your take on it?"

Erin straightened, then leaned heavily against the gurney. "Oh, boy…"

Nick moved before he even realized he was going to. His left arm went around her waist. "Don't pass out on me, McNeal," he growled.

"I'm not going to pass out."

His next words died on his lips the instant he registered the feel of her in his arms. Curves and softness and the mysterious essence of woman wrapped around his brain and squeezed until he couldn't form a single coherent thought. The bustle of the emergency room faded until all he was aware of was Erin. The warmth of her body against his. The clean scent of her hair. The weight of her breast against his forearm. He fought the slow spiral of pleasure winding through his body. But he knew it was a losing battle.

"You're just what?" he said, easing her to arm's length. "Weak? Dizzy? Hardheaded?"