Navajo Justice. Aimee Thurlo

her vision began to give way and, like a slowly developing photograph, his face grew clearer. She knew this man. It was her next-door neighbor, Burke, and his eyes were shining with a vibrant inner fire. She allowed herself to bask in the warmth of his gaze, and in the knowledge that she was alive and safe.

      Then suddenly another thought made a bolt of panic shoot through her. “Elena!”

      “She’s not at home. Relax,” he said, his voice utterly compelling and reassuring.

      Burke laid her down gently on the grass of her front lawn. “I heard you calling for her and coughing, then saw you rush inside the house with your hand over your mouth. I tried to stop you but I couldn’t reach you in time.”

      Relief flooded through her, erasing her fear. “I thought—” Her voice broke and she buried her face against his shoulder again.

      Burke held her tightly. “What you did was very brave, but completely unnecessary. Doña Elena—Mrs. Baca—left over a half hour ago in the senior center’s van.”

      It felt wonderful to be held by him. He was all hard muscle and lean strength. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

      “Let me show you.” He leaned down and captured her mouth in a tender kiss.

      He tasted of cinnamon and strong, dark coffee. Seconds stretched out as a sweet, slow fire coursed through her veins.

      But it was over too soon, and he drew back.

      “Now we’re more than even. In fact—I may owe you, lovely lady.”

      Chapter Two

      Laura took a long ragged breath. The taste of Burke still lingered in her mouth, teasing her. What she’d found in his arms was pure fire. He remained close to her now and she breathed in his incredibly masculine scent. It was a blend of the rugged outdoors and pure danger.

      She sat up slowly, trying to get her bearings. She’d spent years writing about the devastating magic of a man and a woman’s first kiss—but she’d never thought this would happen to her. Now, out of all the places in the world where she might have found that sweet fire, it had happened here on her own front lawn.

      Laura shook her head. She was still daffy from the gas. She was confusing life with the Wizard of Oz.

      “You’re darned tootin’ you owe me,” she answered him at last. “And just to make it even, the day I collect, I’ll take you by surprise.”

      His eyes grew dark and sparkled with the excitement of a challenge. “Anytime.” His voice was like steel and velvet. “I’m a man of honor—most of the time.”

      She laughed. “I’ll remember that.” And everything else that had just happened, for as long as she lived.

      Burke stood and, holding her firmly by the waist, brought her to her feet.

      She gripped his shoulders, enjoying the hardness of his body. For a second their eyes met and she experienced something else that had never happened to her before—she was at a loss for words.

      She was suffering from oxygen deprivation. That was the only answer that made sense. “I need to call the gas company and have them fix that leak. I should also call the police.” Hearing sirens, she looked down the street and added, “Or did you do that already?”

      “I called 911 before I went after you.” As the paramedics drove up, he waved them over.

      It took fifteen minutes for Laura to be checked out and for her to convince the paramedics that she was okay. Fortunately, her vital signs were normal, and the medics didn’t believe she was in any more danger. Laura agreed to see a doctor if any symptoms reappeared.

      During that time the gas supply leading to the heater was turned off inside her home. After signing a release form the paramedics presented, she went to meet the gas company serviceman as he came out her door.

      “I’ve opened every window I could find in there, ma’am, but you should still be careful inside. The connector leading to your furnace is damaged and will have to be replaced, and the furnace itself will need some work. You’ll still smell the chemical added to the natural gas so you can detect a leak, but that will fade pretty soon. The rest…” He shrugged. “What happened in there?”

      “Someone must have broken in and trashed the place. That’s all I’ve figured out so far.” As the man walked back to his truck, Laura looked up and down the block, trying to figure out if the police were coming or not. Giving up on them, she started to go back into the house.

      Just then Burke came up to her. “Can I help?” he asked.

      “I’m going to take a look inside, now that it’s safe. If I remember right, my house was in a shambles. I must have had a burglar.”

      “Let me go with you. And by the way, as a precaution, don’t turn on any of the lights just yet. The gas should have dissipated enough, but there’s no sense in testing it with a spark.”

      As Laura walked into the living room she grasped the full extent of the damage clearly for the first time. All the things she’d loved, that had defined her home and herself, had been tossed onto the floor like trash. She saw her collection of music boxes there, chipped and cracked, some smashed beyond recognition. The small knickknacks that held little value but gave her so much pleasure, like the wind-up toy drummer bear and her collection of mice, had been stepped on, probably not even on purpose. There was so much clutter on the floor it was nearly impossible to pick a path.

      “Why would anyone do this to me?” she asked, her voice trembling.

      “Take it one step at a time. See if there’s anything missing.” In a gesture of support, Burke placed his hand on her shoulder.

      The warmth of his touch melted the coldness that enveloped her. Yet even as it comforted, it stirred other unsettling emotions.

      She moved away and picked up a brightly decorated clay pot that had somehow survived undamaged. The miniature rose that had been inside it lay next to it. Laura placed the plant back into the pot along with all the soil she could scoop up.

      The small act of restoration made her feel better.

      “Look, but don’t touch anything else yet,” Burke said, gazing around the room. “The police will want to work the scene and check for evidence. They’ll search for fingerprints.”

      As she saw the debris in the hall, Laura felt a new wave of panic slam into her. Her office. She had to check her computer. The book was finished, but she had other important files on her hard drive—the beginning of a future book, for one.

      She rushed down the hall, but although the room was in shambles, her computer appeared untouched. She counted that as a major blessing, and tried to ignore the way her chest tightened as she looked at the chaos surrounding her. Files lay all over the floor, papers everywhere. Reference books had been tossed around, and some of the older ones had lost pages and had their spines broken. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, she stepped back out into the hall.

      As she went into the bedrooms, she saw they had not fared well, either. Everything had been rifled through. In her room, the contents of every drawer had been dumped onto the floor. Her small jewelry box had been upended, but as she sorted through the jumble of pieces, she saw that nothing was missing, not even her most expensive watch, earrings or matching pendant.

      Laura went through the rest of the house numbly. She checked for the obvious things burglars usually took, like the TV set and VCR, but both were there, intact, and none of the simple tools in the garage had even been touched.

      “I just don’t understand this,” she muttered. “What on earth were they after?”

      Hearing a loud knock, she returned to the living room. A police officer in a blue uniform had come in the open door and was looking around. She introduced herself and took him from room to room.

      “Any