Rest was the last thing she wanted. Amelia wanted to live again.

* * *

Amelia walked out of Grenville and Thrang with new determination. She was going to have fun, and kick Byron Debrek and the pain she brought out of her heart. It was a busy time of day in central London. The pavements were packed with shoppers coming and going, and office workers, and business people rushing from one appointment to another.

Where would she go? She thought of going to a local gay bar and then she thought of Wilder and her coffee truck on the corner.

“Time to tell Wilder I’ve changed my mind.”

Amelia took her sunglasses from her handbag and popped them on. She was filled with new determination to start her life afresh. Whatever was going on with the wound on her neck, she was sure there was a rational explanation. In the meantime she wasn’t going to sit at home pining after someone who broke her heart six months ago.

She started to walk down the street, heading to Wilder’s coffee stand. After a few paces she heard a scream behind her and turned to see a car driving out of control and coming straight for her. She closed her eyes knowing there was no chance of moving, and then something pushed her clear across the pavement and she crashed to the ground.

She had no idea what had quite happened, but as she came to her senses, pinned down by a body on top of her, she heard the incessant noise of a car alarm, and saw the out-of-control car now crushed into the wall of a building.

She could have been killed.

Panic started to grip her chest and she struggled to get out from under the heavy body on top of her. “I need to get up. Let me up!”

“Shh, I have you, mademoiselle.” The vaguely European accent surprised her and she stopped struggling.

The owner of the voice lifted her head and gave her a crooked smile. “That was a rather close one.”

Amelia was struck dumb for second or two. Her saviour was female, with a tumble of collar length straw-blond hair, but dark, almost black, eyes. She was unbelievably striking, but there was more. Something about her looks, her bone structure, chimed inside her heart.

The woman stood and offered her hand to Amelia. “Are you unhurt, mademoiselle?”

Amelia allowed herself to be pulled up, all the while trying to work out the puzzle of her recognition.

“I’m okay, I think.” She looked down at her body and brushed off the dirt. It was only then that she noticed the mayhem around them—police cars, an ambulance, and they were surrounded by onlookers. “You saved me.”

“I’m only too happy to aid a damsel in distress. May I know the name of the beautiful woman whom I have saved?”