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miraculously, obeyed. She tore down the steps. In her blind panic, she snagged the toe of her sneaker on a clump of tangled vines. She went down face first, as if she'd belly-flopped from a high-dive, her stomach, breasts, and legs all making contact with the ground at the same time, knocking the wind out of her.
    Dog food, she thought, fighting for air, knowing she didn't have enough time to recover, thinking about how painful a dog bite must be, about how those sharp, pointed teeth would feel sinking into her flesh. She had just enough time to bring her arms up to protect her face and throat before the animal was upon her.

Chapter 6
    Angel Mine
    "He doesn't bite."
    Above her, the dog growled low in its throat.
    Maddie kept her eyes squeezed shut. Her heart hammered in her chest. She could hear the dog's panting breath. Smell its dog smell.
    A voice. A deep, annoyed voice, coming from somewhere up above. "I said, he doesn't bite."
    She ventured a peek from under her arm. The toe of a leather hiking boot, nine inches from her face. Tanned legs. Hairy, but not too hairy. Denim shorts that stopped at his knees. Gray T-shirt that draped softly over rounded chest muscles.
    Tall. Brooding. With dark hair that hung on either side of his face as he frowned down at her. Hair that was littered with bits of dead grass and leaves. His jaw was blue-tinged, as if shaded with charcoal. His lips, surrounded by a day or two's growth of stubble, were beautifully shaped.
    But what she really noticed were his eyes. Soulful. Eyes so dark that it was hard to tell where the iris left off and the pupil began. Soft eyes. Poet eyes.
    He was like somebody out of the past, out of time. He had these eyes that pulled me in, that made me go weak.
    The dog whined, licked the side of her face, wagged its tail, sat down, and whined some more.
    The man still towered over her, his shadow falling across her.
    "What are you doing here?"
    His voice was deep, like the bass on a really good stereo system. And kind of gravelly, as if he didn't use it much.
    He repeated his question while continuing to pin her to the ground with his eyes.
    Instinct told her not to mention Enid, not yet anyway. She rolled to her back, elbows to the ground, feeling even more vulnerable in her new position.
    There were the Maxwell Smart "Would you believe" replies… Would you believe, selling Avon? Would you believe, reading your gas meter?
    Then there was the old shark skit from Saturday Night Live.
    Western Union.
    Pizza delivery.
    Candygram.
    "I'm lost."
    Simulcasting. The idea came to her the very second the words popped out of her mouth.
    His thick, dark brows lifted. Heavy-lidded eyes blinked. And his smile, when it came, revealed straight, white teeth.
    And when he smiled his slow smile—God. My legs went weak.
    "Aren't we all."
    She turned his response over in her head, rolling it around, deciding she liked it. It had the ring of philosophy, or maybe that was therapy.
    "I'm Eddie."
    There had never been any doubt in her mind. He couldn't have been anybody else. And then she realized he was reaching for her, hand extended.
    Beguiled, she could only put her hand in his.
    His grip was sure, firm. He pulled her smoothly to her feet.
    She came to his shoulder.
    His head was bent. A curtain of hair hid all but his jaw and mouth. She looked down and realized he was cupping her arm in one hand, examining it with the other. Brown fingers moved over white skin.
    She instantly regretted all those days spent curled up in bed asleep while the sun was high in the sky, regretted all those nights spent working on her tan under the fluorescent glow of radio station lights. She wished the skin he so carefully inspected was a beautiful shade of gold instead of marshmallow.
    "You've cut yourself."
    He sounded genuinely sorry. As if it had been his fault that she'd taken off like a wild animal caught by the side of the road, blindly darting into oncoming traffic.
    "My blood has excellent clotting