Michael heaved a sigh. Now why didn’t that fill her heart with—anything? All she really wanted to do was get this day over with, take her phone off the hook, sink into that bubble bath—except she’d have to stop and buy bubble bath—and pretend she was someone else. Someone whose life wasn’t one long grind with only the faintest glimmer of hope at the end of a very long dark tunnel.

Oh, that was a cheering thought.

Which really had nothing to do with what happened next.

"Hey, lady, what are you doing? The light's still red!"

Michael looked up with a start as a hard masculine hand reached out to grab hold of her arm. She'd stepped off the curb without even thinking, her mind as usual going in a hundred different directions—besides the fact that she really should break up with her boyfriend; should she try out her new hazelnut brown-sugar torte on the dinner crowd this weekend? Would Sharon agree to take her hostessing post Saturday so she could cover the short-handed dinner shift for Henri? Had she remembered to pick up her uniform from the cleaners? Did she really love Stephen? Did she even like him? She could feel the wind from the very large inner-city bus as it passed a scant six inches from her nose.

"Oh—my—gosh—" Her voice came out in a whisper. Kevin, her best friend kept telling her that her schedule was going to end up being the death of her, Michael thought dazedly but she didn't think he'd meant it literally.

Feeling her heart pounding in the aftermath of the adrenaline surge, Michael’s eyes traveled from the strong hand still wrapped around her upper arm up to the man it was attached to, the man who'd just saved her from leaving a big wet spot in front of the Blue Cross/ Blue Shield building.

He was tall, but then nearly anyone standing next to her five feet five inches was tall. At least six foot, his body reflected the strength in that hand. Closer to the ground, Michael started from his feet up. Beat-up white running shoes with ankle length athletic socks over calves with nicely developed muscles, led to very nicely developed thighs in dark blue walking shorts that emphasized his trim, flat stomach and lean hips up to a Kelly green polo shirt that likewise showed off a very nice chest and strong muscular arms, though subtly so, not fitting too tightly as if he were showing off his physique. She hated that.

His face, also very nice, was, at the moment, returning her look with a rather impassive expression as if he went around saving people from being hit by buses every day of the week and twice on Tuesdays. Medium-dark hair, sun streaked on top, fell almost to his shoulders, held back with a bit of rawhide string. His face fit the rest of him, hard and uncompromising, with a very masculine nose that looked as though it might have been broken at least once before, a chin that looked stubborn and a jaw to match. His eyes surrounded by dark curling lashes were very dark and crinkled attractively at the corners as his mouth relaxed from its grim line to a smile that lit up his rather somber face as she looked up at him with a simple, "Thanks," that felt woefully inadequate.

"You're welcome." He said, and then let go of her arm rather abruptly as if just realizing he was still holding onto her. "You should be more careful."

"I know," Michael felt unaccountably cheered out of her formerly dour mood. "It's one of my worst traits, though I must say this is the closest I've come to becoming a hood ornament for a bus." That's better, she thought, watching the smile widen, tugging at that well-shaped mouth. Well," she said trying desperately to think of something clever, witty—memorable to say. Her rescuer wasn't making much of an effort at conversation, he still looked rather preoccupied, or maybe he was just annoyed that the ditzy woman he'd snatched from the jaws of death now wanted conversation.