The Way Home. Irene Hannon

for several seconds before she found her voice. “Good heavens, what happened?” she finally sputtered, her face a mask of shock.

      “Where’s your phone?”

      “What?”

      “Your phone. I need to report a mugging.”

      Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding!”

      He glared at her, his voice muffled behind the handkerchief. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

      “No. I mean…I can’t believe this! Look, come in. Sit down. Are you all right?” She took his arm and guided him toward the couch, pushing the door shut with her foot. Once he was seated she scurried for the portable phone and handed it to him. “I’ll get some ice. And a towel.”

      “Don’t bother.”

      She ignored him and headed toward the kitchen. By the time she returned, the phone was lying on the coffee table and he was trying vainly to staunch the flow of blood with his very inadequate handkerchief. She thrust the towel into his hand.

      “Here. Use this. And tilt your head back. Then put this on your eye.” She placed the ice bag in his other hand.

      “Has anyone ever told you you’re bossy?” he grumbled, wincing as he gingerly settled the ice bag against his bruised skin.

      She grinned. “I think my sister might have said that a few times through the years.”

      “Well, she was right. Listen, the police will be here in a few minutes. I’m sorry to put you in the middle of this.”

      “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

      “Two thugs jumped me in the parking lot. I didn’t even see them coming,” he said in disgust. “I’m usually more alert than that.” And he would have been tonight, too, if he hadn’t been so preoccupied with this obligatory date, he thought ruefully.

      Amy frowned and sank into the nearest chair. “I’ve never heard of anything like that happening here before.”

      “There’s always a first time. No place is really safe, Ms. Winter. You ought to know that. You cover the crime beat.”

      She sighed. “Look, can we move past the ‘Mr.’ and ‘Ms.’ business? It’s starting to seem kind of silly.”

      Even with only one good eye, his piercing gaze was intimidating, and she shifted uncomfortably. But instead of responding, he suddenly closed his eyes and leaned wearily back against the couch.

      Amy frowned. He looked pale. Maybe he was hurt worse than he was letting on, she thought worriedly as a wave of panic swept over her.

      “Look, Mr. Richards, are you sure you don’t need an ambulance or something?” She rose and hovered over him nervously.

      He opened his good eye and she thought she saw a glimmer of amusement in its depths. “Just make it Cal. And no, I’ll be okay. But thanks.”

      The doorbell rang, and with one last worried glance at him, she hurried to answer it.

      For the next few minutes she stayed in the background while the officer and Cal spoke. They obviously knew each other, and their mutual respect was evident. Cal described the two young men as best he could, told the officer they’d only been interested in the hundred dollars in his money clip and roughing him up a bit, and once more declined medical assistance.

      “I’ve been taken care of,” he said, directing a brief smile toward Amy.

      “Okay, then.” The officer stood and closed his notebook. “I’m awfully sorry about this, Cal.”

      “It’s not your fault, Mitch. You guys do the best you can. You can’t be everywhere at once.”

      There was a warmth in Cal’s voice that Amy had never heard before, and she looked at him curiously. Up until now, she’d only seen two sides of him—the incisive prosecuting attorney at work in the courtroom, and the reticent, abrupt, potential news source who held her profession, and as a result, her, in low esteem. This human side, this warmth, was new. And quite refreshing. Not to mention appealing, she realized with a jolt.

      “We haven’t had much trouble in this area before.” The officer frowned and sent a troubled look toward Amy. “Have you heard or seen anything suspicious recently, ma’am?”

      “No. Never. But I’ve only lived here six months.”

      Mitch stared at her for a moment. “Aren’t you on TV? One of the news shows?”

      “Yes.”

      “This would have to happen on my beat,” he said in dismay. “Listen, you’re not going to…”

      “No!” Cal and Amy answered in unison, and with equal vehemence. He sent her an amused look and she flushed.

      “There’s more important news to report than a mugging,” Amy said with a shrug.

      “Yeah.” Mitch frowned and turned his attention back to Cal. “This was probably just a freak incident. Still, we’ll beef up patrols in this area for a while. And if we get any leads on those two, we’ll let you know.”

      “Thanks.”

      Amy let the officer out, then returned to the living room. Cal was standing now, the ice pack still clamped against his eye, but his nose had stopped bleeding. “Could I use your bathroom? I’d like to clean up a little.”

      “Sure. Right down the hall.”

      She watched him disappear, then sank onto the sleek, modular couch. She’d speculated all week about how this evening would play out, but never in a million years would she have dreamed up this scenario!

      Cal was gone a long time, and when he returned the only lingering physical evidence of the mugging was the black eye. Aside from that, he looked great, she realized, getting past his face for the first time all evening. His dark gray suit sat well on his broad shoulders, and she figured he must put in time at a gym to maintain such a trim, athletic appearance. Despite the trauma of the past hour, his white shirt still looked crisp, and his elegant red-and-navy-striped tie was now ramrod straight. He’d restored order to his thick, dark brown hair, as well, and for once his brown eyes seemed friendly rather than adversarial.

      “Feeling better?” she asked.

      “Much. I rinsed out the towel. It should be okay after it’s washed, but I’ll be happy to replace it if you prefer.”

      Amy waved his suggestion aside. “Don’t even think about it. I’m just sorry about all this.” She sighed and leaned back. “Well, so much for our date.”

      He weighed the ice pack in his hand and raised his brows quizzically. “Are you calling it off?”

      She looked at him in surprise. “Aren’t you? I mean, you were just mugged! You can’t possibly feel like going out.”

      He shrugged. “I’ll admit those two thugs hurt my pride. And my pocketbook. But not my appetite. And I still have my credit cards. I’m willing to give it a shot, as long as you don’t mind being seen with a guy who has a shiner. Besides, this way I can get all the unpleasantness out of the way in one night—a mugging and this date.” His teasing tone and crooked grin softened his words.

      Amy stared at him. He was actually smiling at her! Genuinely smiling! And suddenly her pulse did the oddest thing. It started to race. Not the way it did when she was nervous about confronting a hostile source for a story. No, this was altogether different. This was almost a pleasant sensation. And why on earth had a thrilling little tingle just run up her spine? Good heavens, if she didn’t know better, she’d think she was attracted to the man! Which was ridiculous. After all, this wasn’t even a real date. It was a strategy. And she would do well to remember that, she admonished herself.

      Amy swallowed and tried for a flippant tone. “Putting my date on par with a mugging isn’t the most flattering comparison I’ve