Love To The Rescue Read Free Page A

incident.”
    “The guy threatened to return some night when I was home alone if I identified him.” Amy felt her legs wobble. She slipped away from Leslie’s arm and slid onto a kitchen chair before her knees buckled.
    Robertson frowned. Amy wondered if she’d done the right thing, blurting out her admission.
    “He’d be a fool if he did. Besides, the guy was high, might not even remember where he was or what he said when he comes down. I wouldn’t be overly concerned, but keep an eye open and call 9-1-1 if you see anything suspicious or anyone resembling him lurking about.”
    “Just remember to set your security alarm,” added Constable Wilson. “If you don’t need me, I’ll check the backyard in case the thief left something behind.”
    “Good idea. Let me know if you find something.”
    Wilson disappeared out the back door.
    “Amy, I’m going to call the salon and see if they need anything.” Leslie patted her friend’s shoulder.
    “Okay, Les. And if they need you, then go. I’m okay.” Amy smiled weakly.
    “Yeah, right. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Leslie dug her cell phone out of her handbag and headed toward the living room.
    Constable Robertson pulled a notebook out of his pocket and clicked the end of his ballpoint pen. “I require some information for my report.”
    Amy took a minute to breathe again. She shifted in her seat, pulled her shoulders back, and faced the police officer seated across from her at the kitchen table. Thankfully, he hadn’t asked her to fill in the witness statement he set on the table. Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t have held a pen. She took another deep breath.
    While he flipped through the pages of his notebook, she studied him for the first time aware of him as a man, not just a cop. Dark brown hair, clean shaven, he appeared to be in his mid-twenties, probably a year or two younger than her twenty-eight years. He sounded quite professional, seasoned, experienced, in charge, however. Perhaps he just looked younger than his actual age. Gorgeous. Handsome. Gorgeously handsome, she decided.
    “Ms. MacArthur?”
    Amy mentally shook herself, realized he was staring at her.
    “Huh?” She immediately felt her face redden. She wrote hundred thousand word novels for a living and ‘huh’ was the best she could come up with?
    “What time did you leave your house this morning?” His deep voice totally mesmerized her and even lent a degree of comfort.
    “About six thirty, although the dentist office isn’t too far away. My appointment wasn’t until seven, but I was concerned about rush hour traffic.” Her heart skipped a beat, and she momentarily lost herself in his dark brown eyes that watched her as she spoke.
    “Okay.” He bent over his book, recording her answer she assumed. She noticed his stylish haircut, imagined running her fingers through those silky-looking strands of...
    “Ms. MacArthur?”
    Dang it! She’d done it again. He must have asked another question.
    “Yes?”
    “Are you okay?” He slid forward on the chair. When he leaned closer in anticipation of her response, a whiff of his cologne teased her nose. She inhaled deeply, savoring the woodsy rainforest scent. God, he smelled good enough to eat.
    “Can I get you a glass of water or something?”
    She waited a few moments longer, waited for him to elaborate. She imagined a variety of things he could get her, do for her, do to her, starting with kissing her right now. Reluctantly, she shook her head. “Nothing, thank you. I’m fine.”
    His expression almost indicated disappointment. Or was she imagining it?
    “Just relax. You mentioned you were a writer. What do you write, Ms. MacArthur?” He tilted his head.
    Amy wondered if he was truly interested in her career choice or if he hoped to calm her down by temporarily distracting her. She was equally distracted by him and the stressful situation. “I’m a romance writer, romantic suspense. I doubt you’ve read any