Rick wouldn't have been able to say why he followed her outside. Maybe it was a sense of duty mingled with curiosity. He'd already decided that she was a stubborn woman and, for the most part, stubborn people both irritated him and turned him off.

But not her.

And if asked, he wouldn't have been able to explain exactly why.

Maybe that was where the curiosity part came in.

She looked around, as if to decide which direction to take in order to find the diner. It was obvious that she wasn't exactly a tracker.

Amus.e.m.e.nt pulled at the corners of his mouth. Common sense kept it from surfacing. "At least let me drive you over to the diner," he offered.

She would have wanted to say no, but that would be living up to the old adage about cutting off her nose to spite her face. She wasn't sure which way to go to get to the diner and she didn't want to ask the sheriff because it would make her seem stupid. The people around here were probably born tracking.

"That would be very nice of you," Olivia said. "Thank you."

"No problem." He opened the rear pa.s.senger door so she could deposit the infant seat and then the infant.

Ultimately it took almost less time for him to drive back to the diner than it did for Olivia to secure the infant seat in the rear of the police car. She remained in the back with her nephew for the short hop back.

He glanced in the rearview mirror, his eyes meeting hers. "She's going to be all right," he a.s.sured her with quiet confidence.

Had there been something in the report he hadn't mentioned? "How do you know that?" she asked.

"I don't," he admitted. She felt her spirits dip drastically. "I just know it helps to keep a positive thought."

"Right," she murmured, looking out the window. All the positive thoughts in the world hadn't kept her sister from running off with that lowlife.

Bringing the vehicle to a stop, he was quick to get out. Rick rounded the hood and was at the rear pa.s.senger door, opening it for her before she had a chance to remove the seat belt she'd secured around Bobby's infant seat.

He stuck his head in and nodded toward the baby. "Let me take him for you."

She was about to say that she didn't need his help. The words rose automatically to her lips. But while that might be true in this instance, letting the sheriff take the baby allowed her to exit the vehicle with some semblance of modesty, rather than just sliding out with the baby in her arms and her skirt up somewhere between her thighs and her waist.

Once she was out, rather than hand over the baby to her, Rick walked to her car. There were now several other cars parked in front of the diner, but he had no trouble finding hers. Even if he hadn't seen her retrieving the bottle and formula from the cooler, he would have known the vehicle was hers. They tended toward practical cars around here, mostly four-wheel drive and all-terrain vehicles.

No one in Forever had an expensive car that was just for show. Certainly not a Mercedes.

A sense of practicality didn't keep him from admiring her car, though. It was a beauty.

Like the woman who drove it.

Where the h.e.l.l had that snuck in from? he wondered, caught off guard. It seemed to him that he was paying a h.e.l.l of a lot of attention to someone who was, at best, just pa.s.sing through. It wasn't like him.

Still, he was a servant of the people. Or so it said somewhere in his job description. The term that was used was "people" not "just the citizens of Forever." That meant, in an odd sort of way, he was her "servant" as well.

So he asked the kind of question a concerned servant was wont to ask.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take you to Pine Ridge? It's easy to get lost around these parts. Some of the towns around here never even make it to a map. Just a cl.u.s.ter of a few buildings with a handful of people in them."

Having opened the rear pa.s.senger door, Olivia was trying to secure the infant seat to the cushion and having less than complete success. Why was she all thumbs like this?

The sharp pain in her heart told her that she knew the answer to that. Olivia didn't want to go there. She did anyway, albeit involuntarily. She wasn't thinking straight because she was worried about Tina. Worried that, even now, it might be too late. That Tina was dying this very minute.

Olivia banished the notion from her mind. Instead, she addressed the sheriff's offer. Maybe another time, she might have let him drive her. But right now, she wanted to be alone. In case she cried. She didn't want any witnesses.

"Pine Ridge is large enough for a hospital, right?" she asked, tossing the words over her shoulder as, kneeling on the backseat, she continued to struggle with the infant seat.

Rick found that he had to exercise extreme control to keep from staring at what might have been the best well rounded posterior he had seen in a very long time. Forcing himself to blink, he raised his eyes up toward the back of her head.

He was in time to witness part of her hair coming undone as she hit her head against the inside of the roof. Several bobby pins came raining down, as did another section of her hair.

Still on her knees, she stopped what she was doing and turned around in the car to look at him. "Right?" she asked again.

It took him a second to vaguely recall the initial question. Something about Pine Ridge and being big enough for a hospital. "Right."

"Then it should be on the map." She sighed, wiggling back out again. "That seems pretty secure," she said, more to herself than to him.

She'd drive just under the speed limit, she told herself. The infant seat-and its precious cargo-would be fine if she kept a steady pace.

Even so, for good measure she stuck the cooler on the floor just beneath where the infant seat was. That should keep it wedged in, even without the belts.

"If I could have my nephew back," she said, the corners of her mouth curving just a little. The sheriff looked rather comfortable holding Bobby. She caught herself wondering if he was married and how many children he had. Not that it mattered.

Rick surrendered the baby, placing Bobby in her arms.

"Hang in there, sweetie," she said to Bobby.

Turning, she ducked back into the rear seat, this time to secure her nephew into his seat. And once again, Rick found himself captivated, staring at her shapely anatomy and trying very hard not to let his imagination take over. He reminded himself that, after all, he was the sheriff. But then again, sheriffs were not plaster saints.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Miss Joan at the diner window, looking out on to the parking area. Observing him with a knowing smile.

That old woman needed a hobby, Rick thought. One that didn't involve turning everything she saw into gossip.

As Olivia ducked back out of the rear of the vehicle, he reached into his breast pocket and retrieved a business card. He'd had fifty printed up when he first took the position some four years ago. He still had close to that number left. The phone number to the sheriff's department was a matter of record. Other than numbers taking the place of the initial two call letters, the department's number hadn't changed. People knew it by heart.

But she didn't.

"Here." He held the beige card out to her. "It's the department's number," he explained. "In case you find you need help with getting your sister home."

She dealt better with adversity and challenges than with kindness. Kindness threatened to undo the barriers she'd worked so hard to construct around herself. Threatened to make her vulnerable. He was offering something that went above and beyond the call of duty.

She tried to give the card back. "Thank you," she said stiffly. "But I won't need it."

"Take it anyway," he urged. He surprised her by placing his hand over hers and urging her fingers to close around the card. "You never know."

"But I do," she contradicted. "I know my limits and my capabilities and I'm perfectly capable of finding this particular needle in the haystack." Again she held the card out to him.

But he wouldn't take it back. "Humor me."

She sighed softly and, because he was so close to her, he felt a little of her breath against his cheek.

The reaction was automatic.

His gut tightened in response. Accompanied by an unnerving tingle.

"All right," she murmured. "If it makes you feel better-"

"It does," he a.s.sured her. A beat later, an easy smile underscored his words.

Olivia placed the card on the dashboard of her immaculate Mercedes and got in behind the wheel.

"Thanks again," she said, shutting the driver's side door. Placing her key into the ignition, she turned it.

And heard absolutely nothing.

Frowning, she repeated the process.

With the exact same results.

Her frowned deepened. Olivia removed the key and then reinserted it in the ignition, hoping that the third time would be the charm.

It wasn't.

This time, however, there was a small whimper coming from what sounded like the front end of her car. When she tried turning the ignition on for a fourth time, the small whimper suddenly turned into the very grating sound of metal on metal, and from every indication, neither piece of metal was faring very well in this screeching, unexpected confrontation.

The last go-round had set Rick's teeth on edge. It was infinitely worse than nails being dragged along a chalkboard. He squatted down so that he was level with the open window on the driver's side and asked mildly, "Problem?"

Frustrated, Olivia pressed her lips together. The man knew d.a.m.n well there was a problem. A problem she couldn't fix. All she knew about cars was where to put the gas. She was willing to bet that men around this area were born with a torque wrench in one hand and a can of motor oil in the other.

With effort, she forced herself to sound civil and not stressed out. "It seems that way."

She didn't have time for this. Every moment she wasted here was a moment that-G.o.d forbid-she might not have with Tina.

Though she hated resorting to this, Olivia raised her eyes innocently to his and asked in the most helpless female voice she could muster, "Can you fix it?"

The question amused him. He wondered if the big-city attorney just a.s.sumed he could lay hands on the hood and bring it back from the dead.

"Depends on what 'it' is," he told her. "Pop the hood."

"All right," she said gamely, then looked around for an icon on the dashboard that would point her in the right direction. There wasn't any. Though it bothered her to admit ignorance, if she sat there any longer, the sheriff would figure it out on his own. "And how do I do that?"

He congratulated himself on not laughing. "Here, let me pop it for you," he offered.

She slid out and he slid in, taking her place. The seat felt pleasingly warm against the back of his legs, the warmth working its way through the fabric of his uniform. He did his best not to dwell on that, or on the woman who had warmed the seat with her own.

Finding the hood release on the lower left side of the dashboard, just below the steering column, Rick pulled the handle up. The hood made a slight rumbling noise as if it were attempting to separate itself from the rest of the car. Satisfied, Rick got out again.

He raised the hood and looked down into the belly of the car. Doing so yielded no insight for him. There was no telltale smoke rising up, no cracks that he could readily see. A quick check of the dipstick told him that at least her oil was full and running clean. He let the hood drop back into place, then pushed it down so that the latch would catch.

"Well?" Olivia pressed impatiently. "Do you think you can fix it?"

He shook his head. "I'm afraid this is a job for the mechanic."

"All right," she said. Hands resting on her hips, she looked around for a garage with the appropriate sign hanging out front. She didn't see one, but that only meant that this mechanic the sheriff was referring to had to be located in the heart of this postage-stamp-size town. "Where is he?"

"Fishing."

"Fishing?" she echoed incredulously. This was becoming a nightmare.

"That's what I said," he answered easily. Taking out his handkerchief, he swiftly wiped his hands, then tucked the handkerchief back in his pocket.

"And he's the only mechanic around here?" she questioned.

"Only one we've got. He should be back Monday," he a.s.sured her.

"Monday?" Olivia rolled her eyes. "What am I supposed to do until Monday?" She had hoped that everything would be resolved by Monday. That Tina and the baby would be back home and she could be where she belonged. At the firm. "How am I supposed to get to Tina if he doesn't come back until Monday?"

He was as laid-back as she was frazzled. "We could go back to my original suggestion," he said in an even, unhurried voice. "I could take you up to Pine Ridge myself."

There was that, she supposed. But she hated being in anyone's debt, no matter what that debt was. If you were in debt, they could call it in at any time, collect at any time. She didn't like what that implied. Constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop wasn't the way she wanted to live her life.

But in this case, she didn't appear to have a choice. Not if she wanted to be there for Tina-and to see with her own eyes that her sister was really all right.

So she nodded, none too happily. "I guess I don't have any choice."

"No," he contradicted, "you have a choice. You could wait here until Mick comes back on Monday."

With her luck, the mechanic would fall off the fishing boat and drown. But she had another idea, a better idea than having the sheriff as her chauffeur. "Is there anywhere around here where I could rent a car?"

He shot down her hopes with a single word. "Nope. No reason to have one of those. Everyone's got their own car around here."

"Whether it's running or not," Olivia muttered under her breath in disgust. She took a breath and tried to put her best face on. "If the offer's still open, I'd like to take you up on it." G.o.d, she thought, it almost sounded as if she was begging.

"The offer never closed," he said mildly.

Apparently tired of playing a pa.s.sive part and watching through the window, Miss Joan opened the door and walked out of the diner. She stood on the first step, a force to be reckoned with.

"You two can leave the baby with me," she called. "This way, you won't have to be stopping every half hour or so to feed him, or change him, or to keep him from crying."

Stunned, Olivia glanced from the owner of the diner to the sheriff. "How did she-"

"Miss Joan reads lips," Rick explained, clearing up the mystery. "Her parents were both deaf and she wanted to be able to relate to them, see what life was like for them with their challenges."

"No law against readin' people's lips," Miss Joan said cheerfully. She crossed to the Mercedes and looked into the back, where the baby was still strapped into his infant seat. "It's not like invadin' their privacy and readin' their mail," she added with a toss of her head, her bright red hair bouncing about.

"Oh, but it is if they're talking in low voices and have a reasonable expectation of privacy," Olivia countered deliberately.