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more than the broken bottles and fast-food wrappers that sometimes got lodged there.

      “Is somebody there?”

      There was a scrambling sound, but no answer.

      Rex whined, the hairs on his back standing up in a ridge. Feeling a bit silly, but not willing to take a chance, Alex removed his Glock from its holster, finding confidence in its weight even as he sent a silent prayer he wouldn’t have to use it. Crouching down, he aimed his flashlight under the wooden structure, his gun behind it. He couldn’t see anyone, but there was an alcove under a support beam that was hidden from his light. He’d have to go around.

      He circled around to the other side, leaving Rex pacing back and forth at the foot of the stairs. Repeating his crouch and waddle move from before, Alex inched up under the overhang, scanning the area with his light. Nothing.

      Woof!

      Alex jumped, rapping his head on the rough boards of the stairway. A lightning bolt of pain shot through his skull as he quickly crab-crawled back out of the cramped space beneath the stairs. He heard Rex bark again and rolled the rest of the way out, careful to keep the gun steady.

      “What is it, boy?”

      A quick series of staccato barks answered him from the landing above.

      “Stop! Sheriff’s Deputy.” The logical part of his mind knew that it was probably just a kid sneaking a smoke or a surfer who had passed out after too many drinks, but he’d had more than one close call in his career and wasn’t going to chance it. Standing up, cursing the sand spurs now embedded in his skin, he followed the dog’s line of sight.

      There, clearly visible in the breaking dawn, was the menace that had his dog, and him, so worked up. A tiny kitten, barely more than a ball of fluff, was huddled against the top step.

      “Rex, hush!” he commanded, not wanting the big dog to scare it back under the stairs. He was not going into those sand spurs again if he could help it.

      The kitten was gray, its fur nearly the same shade as the weathered boards he was clinging to. If Rex hadn’t made such a fuss, the kitten could have been directly underfoot and Alex would have missed it. Putting the dog into a down-stay, he dropped the leash and tucked away the gun and flashlight. Then he eased up the stairs as quietly as his heavy boots would allow.

      The kitten watched him, eyes wide, but didn’t run. A small mew was its only reaction, and even that seemed half-hearted. The pathetic creature looked awfully weak. The temperature was only in the mid-forties right now and had been significantly colder overnight. Plenty of strays did just fine, but this one seemed way too small to be out in the cold on its own.

      Scooping the kitten up, he cradled it against his chest with one hand, then leaned down and retrieved Rex’s leash with the other. The kitten was trembling, obviously cold if nothing else. Loading Rex into the car, he mentally said goodbye to the sleep he’d intended to catch up on. It looked like he was going to be seeing that pretty veterinarian again after all.

      Cassie stared at the teakettle with bleary eyes, as if she could make the water boil faster through sheer force of will. She’d tossed and turned again last night. Maybe at some point she’d get used to the nightmares.

      She often dreamed about the accident that had left her father in the hospital and herself with a mild concussion and a mountain of worry. At first, they’d feared her father’s injuries were permanent, but he was home now and steadily getting better. She’d hoped that would be enough to stop the dreams from haunting her. But so far, no such luck.

      But last night the dream had changed. The broken glass and screeching tires were the same as always, brought back in minute detail to terrorize her, but this time the sirens had triggered something new. Instead of the middle-aged deputy who was normally part of the nightmare, there was someone else. Alex Santiago, the new deputy she’d embarrassed herself in front of.

      Suddenly, instead of ambulances and flashing lights, there had been stars and the crash of the ocean. They were alone on the beach, kissing as if there was nothing more important than the feel of skin against skin, tongue against tongue. She’d been unbuttoning his uniform when the blaring of her alarm had woken her up.

      She had lain there, hot and trembling, for several minutes before forcing herself to shut the dream out of her head. There was probably some deep, psychiatric reason her subconscious was twisting her nightmare into something totally different, but there’d been no point in lying there, trying to figure it out.

      So she’d forced herself out of bed and into a quick shower before throwing on her usual uniform of casual khaki pants and a simple cotton blouse. Now she was desperate for some tea and maybe a bite of breakfast. She had another thirty minutes before Emma would be waking up, and she intended to enjoy the quiet while she could.

      The tea was still steeping in her mug when she heard a knock at the door. Dunking the bag one last time, she tossed it in the trash as she made her way to the front of the house. Peering through the wavy glass of the peephole, she could just make out the blue uniform of the Palmetto County Sheriff’s Department. Her mouth turned dry, another flashback threatening her still drowsy mind.

      Her heart thudded hollowly as she turned the lock. Why would there be a cop on her doorstep? Had something happened to her parents? The clinic? A neighbor? Her mind darted through possible scenarios as she opened the door. Surely this wasn’t because of the accident? In the beginning, there had been what seemed like countless interviews and questions, but that had all ended months ago.

      Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she swung open the door. There on the stoop was Alex, looking just as he had in her dream. The fear retreated, chased off by other, equally potent stirrings. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment, not that he could possibly know that she’d dreamed about him. Keeping her voice cool, she asked, “Is there a problem, Deputy?”

      He smiled at her, all male energy and smooth charm. “I suppose it’s too early for this to be a social call?”

      “I’d say so.” She noticed the shadows under his eyes and realized he’d probably just come off the night shift. “I’m assuming you have a professional reason for banging on my door at dawn. If you could share it so I can get back to my breakfast, that would be helpful.”

      Before he could answer her, she caught the weirdest impression of movement under his department-issued windbreaker. “What on earth?”

      At that moment, a tiny, gray head squirmed out of the neck of the jacket and nuzzled his chin. Darn. Now she had to let him in.

      “I know it looks strange, but the little guy was shivering. I thought I could keep him warm in my jacket, but he doesn’t want to stay put.” He grabbed hold of the kitten as it wriggled its way farther out of the coat.

      “Well, come on in. Let’s take a look at him.” She motioned for him to continue back to the kitchen, then shut the door behind him. “Where did he come from and how long ago did you find him?” She kept her tone and actions professional, using her clinical manner to maintain some emotional distance. He might look like a Latin movie star, but the Palmetto County Sheriff’s Department logo on his shirt was a glaring reminder of the chaos she was currently embroiled in. She’d help the kitten, then send him on his way, before he or the animal got too close.

      Alex followed her, his large stature making her cozy cottage feel small. “Rex found him under one of the beach access staircases. We’d stopped for a few minutes and he refused to leave. Somehow he knew the little guy needed help.”

      “Is Rex your partner?” The name didn’t ring a bell.

      “Yeah,” Alex answered distractedly as he attempted to remove the kitten’s claws from his uniform shirt. “He’s waiting out in the car.”

      “He didn’t want to come in?” Had the animosity toward her gotten that bad?

      “Oh, he wanted to, but I figured

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