Nick watched the Mustang until it disappeared and the gravel dust settled into a low haze.
“I’ll be damned,” he said aloud. Glory was definitely less predictable than it had been a few minutes ago—and all because of a hot blonde in a red Mustang.
Nick jabbed his pen back into his pocket and turned toward the squad car. If Roxie Treymayne had returned to town as she’d left it, innocent and pristine as the rising sun, he might be worried. Fortunately for him, she’d come as the one thing he was now immune to—a woman in trouble. He didn’t know what kind of trouble, but he recognized the signs, every tempting, tattooed one.
He tossed the ticket book onto the car seat, lifted his hat, and raked a hand through his hair, realizing his shoulders were as tense as if he’d been facing an armed murderer. “Hot damn,” he told the warm breeze that ruffled the trees overhead.
Once again, Roxie Treymayne was off limits. Only this time, it was for an entirely different, and far more interesting, reason.
Karen Hawkins, Lois Lane Tells All
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