Love at First Sight Read Online Free Page B

his lights and siren for you to do so,” he added.
    “I wasn’t speeding, ” she snapped. “I was chasing a killer. Well, a possible killer.”
    “I guess I didn’t see the distinction,” he said carefully. “I thought cops chased possible killers. May I see your driver’s license and car registration, please?”
    She made no move for her purse. “I was trying to get his license-plate number. He was driving a larger, newer model, dark-colored sedan with a dented left rear fender. Well? Aren’t you going to do something? ”
    He shifted his gaze to the highway. Cars breezed past. Some large, dark-colored, newer model American cars. Some dented. If she had been chasing someone, he was gone. And if she hadn’t—
    Jack looked down at her, afraid to take his eyes off her for long for fear of what she’d do next. “Your driver’s license and car registration, please?”
    She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Those expressive eyes blinked, still hot with anger. She started to reach for her purse but stopped in midmotion and blinked again, as if seeing him for the first time, really seeing him.
    It was one of the few times he wished he looked a little more like a cop. Instead he was dressed a lot like her. Faded hockey jersey, worn jeans, Top-Siders. No socks. Definitely should have taken off the baseball cap, though.
    Indecision and alarm flashed over her features. She glanced back at his Jeep, the light on top still flashing. She wasn’t buying that he was a cop. Why wasn’t he surprised? Par for the morning.
    As he dug his badge from his jeans pocket, he noted that all four doors of her car were locked and she’d left her engine running. Worse, she looked ready to run again herself. He just wondered what she was running from. Or chasing.
    He held the badge up and watched her study it intently.
    “And you are—?” she asked, pointing out his lack of a name tag.
    “Detective Jack Adams. Now may I see your license and registration?”
    She flashed him a smile about as genuine as Naugahyde. “Of course, officer. ”
    He watched her rummage in her purse. She was all nerves and he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d pulled a pistol out of her bag. He wondered if the nerves were her way of showing anger. Or fear? Either could make her dangerous.
    With a start, he caught a glimpse of a spray can in her purse. Then her fingers were grasping it and as if in slow motion, he watched her pull it out. He stepped back, now fully expecting the worst. Pepper spray.
    That’s when he spotted a blue dress in the passenger seat. A dress with what appeared to be a huge bloodstain.
    “Drop that and step out of the car,” he ordered, automatically reaching for his weapon.
     
    T HE ORDER came out of the blue. Karen turned, her gaze rocketing up to his. Only he wasn’t looking at her but past her to— Karen groaned. That damned dress! That dress was going to be the death of her.
    “Drop the spray and get out of the car,” he ordered again. “Now!”
    She dropped the can of spot remover Howie had given her. It tumbled to the floor. “All right, all right,”she said quickly, trying to calm him before he did something crazy like shoot her. You never knew with these cop types. “It isn’t what you think.”
    “It never is,” he said coldly. “Step out of the car slowly and keep your hands where I can see them.”
    This wasn’t happening. Earlier she’d thought he hadn’t looked much like a cop. Not with his head of thick, unruly sandy-blond hair under his baseball cap and those big brown eyes and that slight crook in his nose in that otherwise boyish face. Not to even mention the way he was dressed.
    But he looked like a cop now. And he definitely sounded like one.
    Carefully, she opened her door and stepped out very deliberately. Judging from his body language, she’d be wise not to make a wrong move.
    “It isn’t blood,” she said, adding a feeble, terrified chuckle. “It’s wine. Red wine. My date