She hurried out of the firehouse and down the sidewalk, then stopped short.

Officer Stone Petty stood under the bright green-and-yellow awning of Stella’s Beauty Shop, transfixed on the object in his hands.

A crumpled pack of Marlboros.

The sudden spurt of rage surprised her. She may disapprove and try to help, but Arilyn understood the power of free choice and being ready to quit any vice. But for some reason, the sight of this powerful man slowly killing himself made her vision blur. Since her car was parked right by him, she forced herself to walk past, yank open the door, and mind her own business.

It didn’t happen.

“Enjoying yourself, Officer?”

He turned his head. “Huh?”

She clenched her hand around the handle and shook with temper. “Enjoying your cigarettes?” she sneered. “Having fun destroying the body God gave you so you can wake up one day gasping for breath and talking through a tube?”

He raked his gaze over her in a lazy, assessing way that only made her madder. “This is the second time you threatened me with hospitals and tubes. I take it you don’t agree with smoking?”

She fumed. How was he so calm when she wanted to jump across the street and throttle him? The image of her mother slowly dying of lung cancer still haunted her, but she managed to live with it. Watching her dad die after her of a broken heart, not caring that he left his only daughter alone, had been even harder. Mom had fought to live. Dad had fought to die.

Stone obviously cared about people, especially since he was a cop. Why couldn’t he care about himself, too? Was that so hard to do? Arilyn swallowed back the words and managed a shrug. “I don’t agree with waste,” she said. “Or suicide. But it’s your choice. Enjoy your smoke.”

She turned her back, ready to get in her car, but his words sliced through the air.

“I quit.”

She slowly cranked her head back around. “Yeah. That’s why you’re holding a pack.”

He held up the package. “It’s empty. I’m on the damn patch, but sometimes I go nuts for a craving and need to smell it.” He let out an aggravated breath. “Stupid, I know, but it helps. I’ve been clean for a month now.”

Relief cut through her, but she didn’t dare analyze it. “Oh. Well, good for you. I know it’s hard. Do you have someone you can call?”

His rough laugh made her tummy dip. He was so . . . virile. “Nah, no smoking sponsor for me. In fact, no one’s pretty much given a damn if I quit or not. Until you.”

Heat coursed through her, and it had nothing to do with the sun. She cleared her throat. “I care about everyone,” she said. The prim tone made her want to wince, but she owned it. “Aren’t we all worth more than we think?”

Like a falcon sighting prey, he remained still and silent. Those inky eyes refused to release her. Yet. “Sure. If that’s your party line.”

The annoyance snapped back. “You don’t believe everyone deserves not to be judged?”

“Nope. Criminals deserve shit.”

“What if they committed a crime with a higher purpose?” she challenged. “There’s plenty of gray areas. Not everything is black-and-white.”

“I don’t care what someone’s lofty ambition is if they break the law. Or are you one of those touchy-feely types who believe the garbage on death row should be forgiven? Released back into society for a second chance?” The already familiar sneer touched his lips. “Easy to forgive when you’re not the one who was affected by the crime, huh?”

“I think people make mistakes,” she shot back. “Like you did. Now you’re trying to correct your behavior.”

Why did he set her off just by opening his mouth? He wasn’t worth the energy of losing her temper. She’d just breathe, smile politely, and walk away.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m the real criminal here. Too bad the punishment sometimes doesn’t fit the crime, huh? I mean, this anger management junk should be saved for serial killers.”

Oh, she really, really didn’t like this man.

Arilyn turned her back before he baited her further. “Be back at two. Don’t be late.”

His voice mocked her departure. “Yes, ma’am.”

Arilyn got in her car and drove away, refusing to look back.

four

STONE STUDIED HER while he filled out more ridiculous forms with the goal of targeting his “true” anger issues. At least it was a break from Luther’s ramblings and Dude A’s lame attempt at flirting. They’d been warned that the first day was a full eight hours, and then they would move to three-hour sessions for the rest of the prison term.

Faint lines settled into the crease above her nose, and she seemed distracted. Probably running around saving the world, one criminal at a time. Still, he’d been right about his instincts. She was cute when she got pissed. Trying to hide it by being all Zen and above the regular humans only made her losing it more amusing. He’d try to up his game to distract himself from this daily nightmare. Much better than being stuck with the two bozos beside him discussing feelings.

She stood up, collected the papers, and gestured to the four purple mats laid out on the floor. “Thank you for taking the time to fill these out. Honesty is everything in this course. Besides working on your triggers and digging a bit into what makes us angry, we need to learn coping techniques. I’ll be focusing on how our bodies feed our responses, so make sure for the rest of the week you come in comfortable clothing.”

Great. Here we go with the yogi crap. Stone tamped down a groan. Maybe she’d demonstrate the poses first and he’d focus on her hot body. “If we can shift to our mats, and sit cross-legged, we’ll tackle the first element of control: the breath.”

Stone got up from his chair, settled on the mat, and barely managed to cross his long legs. His back gave a bit of a spasm and reminded him his gym routine consisted of weights but little else. The smoking had killed his running and endurance, which he was trying to build back up. But stretching? He couldn’t remember the last time he had had to sit on the floor like a toddler.

Arilyn took her position in front, easily twisting her legs up on each knee, back ramrod straight, fingers curled and resting on her knees. She practically glowed with a warm energy radiating around her, making the men take a deep sigh. Her presence alone touched something inside of him he rarely made note of. Too bad he couldn’t put a name to it yet. He had no idea what it was.

“Anger sprouts from a variety of places, but there’s one simple mantra I want everyone to remember. Leave with this one thing from the course, and your entire life will change for the better.”

The men leaned slightly forward.

“Control your breath, control your life.”

Oh, yeah, he remembered what she touched in him now.

Aggravation.

Dude A and Luther nodded, hanging on to her Buddha-like advice with an openness that made him want to roll his eyes. Puh-leeze. If it were that simple, no one would ever lose their temper. Did she really think they were that stupid?

His face must’ve shown his doubt, because those meadow-green eyes focused on him. “Officer Petty? You seem skeptical.”

He shrugged. Damned if even his shoulders hurt from this ridiculous position. “Not for nothing, but it’s a bit disappointing as the big secret to all anger. We breathe every day.”

A tiny smile curved her lips. “Correct. All roads lead from the breath. It is our biggest connection to our body, mind, and emotions. When we experience anger, our muscles tighten, adrenaline rushes through, and we stop breathing. The oxygen flow is stopped up, and this is the key turning point where we may lose control.”

Damn, her teacher voice was hot. “So, next time I’m in a situation with some dickhead criminal, I should stop what I’m doing to breathe first?”