Page 7

Clay ran, his heart pounding with fear that he wouldn’t make it in time. His vision narrowed to only the sight of her in the street, the car bearing down on her, and her complete lack of awareness.
Grabbing her arm, he hauled her back onto the sidewalk, the whoosh of the vehicle whipping her hair around her face, her coffee cup falling to land with a splat in the gutter.
Only then did she register the rear of the car as it raced past, and her words came out in a rushed, panicked wheeze. “Oh my God.” She slapped a hand to her chest. “That car. I could have died.”
Clay was still breathing hard from the fear, from the near impact. From his touch on her arm. “It was one of those damned AVs.” As the car flashed by, he’d seen the empty driver’s seat through the passenger window.
She looked at him, dumbfounded. “AV?”
“An autonomous vehicle,” he translated.
She was breathing fast, a pink tinge rising to her cheeks. “Like one of those robotaxis from that old movie Total Recall?”
He nodded. “Only this one was going a lot faster.”
She glanced down the street after the retreating car. “I’d heard they were testing those things in the city. But that’s just crazy. Aren’t they supposed to sense when people are around?”
“Supposedly,” he scoffed. “But this one didn’t. It didn’t even have a passenger.”
“Maybe it was racing to pick up its next fare.” Then she laughed—that could have been nerves—and the musical sound reached down deep inside him.
The thought of her crushed beneath that driverless car sent his pulse rate into the stratosphere. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
She glanced at his hand on her arm. “I’m fine. Except for the bruise I think you’re leaving.”
He immediately let go. “I’m so sorry. I grabbed you because I didn’t think you’d hear me over the street noise.”
She smiled. It was like the sun and the moon and the stars shining all at once. “You’re right. I’d have looked around like a deer caught in the headlights instead of getting out of the way.” Then she went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
It was a kiss like no other. He barely registered her words, feeling only the tingle of her lips against his skin. He thought of her Cupid’s bow mouth leaving red lipstick marks all over his body, even if she wore no lipstick. Her fragrant skin fogged his brain. Something sweet and fruity. Like peaches, and as delectable as her skin.
Then her lyrical voice broke through the delicious fog. “So, like, where can we report that car?”
He answered with complete honesty. “I have no idea. I didn’t even get a plate number.” Holding her chocolate-brown gaze, he added, “But I’ll find out.”
“Thank you for saving my life.” Her West Coast accent was as melodic as her laugh.
Had he been terrified she’d have a New York twang or a Southern drawl? Though there was nothing wrong with those accents, neither would suit her.
She laid her hand on his arm as if she had to hold on just to stand up. “I need a stiff drink after that close call. Will you join me?”
His heart rate ratcheted up once again, not with fear but with need. “I will. Because if I hadn’t grabbed you—” He shuddered dramatically instead of saying that she’d have been flattened in the street.
That would have been the worst thing imaginable, to lose her before he even knew her name.
Chapter Three
That was crazy! She hadn’t been paying attention, and that wasn’t like her. Saskia Oliver knew how fast people drove on San Francisco streets, trying to make the next light before it turned. She’d never run into one of those AVs before, literally or figuratively. But she’d slept so late, and now it was midafternoon, and missing her first coffee of the day messed with her system. Maybe she was addicted to caffeine. She’d been steeping herself in that heavenly aroma when she stepped into the street to avoid those girls. No self-respecting San Franciscan ever stepped into the street without looking first.
But he’d rescued her. Her reaction to him was even crazier. He was just so… so… delicious. She wanted to lick him like her favorite ice cream cone. And she just did not think about men that way. Not normally. She should have thanked him profusely, then gone on her way.
But this man had saved her life. And he was just so… so… everything. Then she’d suggested a drink. Another thing that wasn’t like her.
Her appointment could wait. Because there might never be another opportunity like this with a man as drop-dead gorgeous as this one. If not for him, she’d be dead, for God’s sake!
She looped her arm through his. “I know a great place. The cocktails are fabulous.” She assessed him a moment. Was he a cocktail guy, or…? “They also have good draft beer, if you’d prefer.”
Clay Harrington said, “Draft beer or cocktail, either one. Because we need to celebrate that you’re still in the land of the living.”