She squeezed her eyes shut. Was it possible to already recognize the absence of a drawl in his voice? What kind of God would allow this level of embarrassment? One, it seemed, intent on using Charlie Lynch to disrupt her life.

“Hey there, Deputy.” Where did this guy keep coming from? “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s Charlie, remember? Are you okay?”

A wet stain was spreading across his uniform. Still holding two white paper bags in one hand, he reached out to her with the other. Humor filled his eyes, making it nearly impossible to avoid matching the smile lighting his handsome face.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Ooh, taking his hand was a mistake. The touch of his skin set off an internal alarm. Too soon. She pulled her hand back. “I didn’t see you.”

The glass door to Dr. Wong’s office swung open. “Ms. Kent. Your appointment card.” The receptionist handed Lane the card as her eyes darted from Charlie to the mess then to Lane, before she turned around and returned to the building. Why couldn’t the ground just swallow Lane up like it did the ice?

“Money.” Lane grabbed her wallet. “Let me pay for the drinks and your dry cleaning.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was an accident. Unless”—Charlie narrowed his eyes—“you meant to douse a member of law enforcement in high fructose carbonated syrup?”

He was joking. He didn’t flinch. Lane fidgeted. He was joking, wasn’t he?

“I’m kidding.” Charlie lifted the white bags in his hand. “I saved what really matters. Lunch.”

“On a hot day like today, you might’ve been safer saving the drinks.”

Charlie’s lips curled and those dimples returned. He could easily be the poster boy for law enforcement. She was finding it harder to heed the caution bells ringing in her ears over the flutter of butterflies awakening from a prolonged dormancy inside her chest. Pay him and get out of there.

“Do you think this will cover it?” Lane pulled out a ten-dollar bill.

“It was an accident and taking money from a citizen while in uniform is a crime.”

Truth? Or more of his easy humor?

“Deputy Lynch.”

Charlie and Lane turned to see a woman crossing the parking lot in a skirt so tight her knees turned. Lane didn’t recognize her, but apparently Charlie did, based on the groan he released at the woman’s approach.

“Deputy Lynch, don’t you always pick up lunch a little closer to the station?”

“A change in scenery, Ms. DeMarco.”

The woman’s gaze cut to Lane, giving her a less-than-subtle once-over before her heavily coated eyelashes batted back in Charlie’s direction. “I’ve been looking for you. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions regarding the Sydney Donovan murder.”

“I’ve already told you and the rest of the reporters that if we get any new information, we will let you know.”