ONE STRONG MAN

He’d finally found her. Despite Greta Davis’s adroit efforts to keep herself hidden away, Curtis Thurman sat in the heated luxury of his new Lexus LC on a stormy November morning and peered through the tempered glass of the clinic where he had run her to ground less than forty minutes ago.

Run to ground, of course, would not be the best phrase. It felt that way, since she’d behaved like a scared rabbit for so long, but Curtis was certainly no hound after fresh blood.

What he couldn’t understand was why she’d come this tiny town in the middle of nowhere. And why this clinic, which had the quirky name Travis & Travis? It didn’t appear that she was a patient here, but she had actually entered the business office as if it were her own.

Her name should be on the sign as well, knowing what a work horse she was, but he hadn’t expected to find her here actually working. She no longer needed to.

To his utter confusion, she sank into a chair at the reception desk and slid on a set of headphones. She was working here as a receptionist? Why would she do that?

He turned off the engine and stepped out into the wind that had pestered him on his three-hour drive from the city. Despite all, she would be happy to see him. He knew it.

Still he hesitated. What if she wasn’t? She hadn’t called to check on things in two years—not since the funeral. It was as if she’d vanished from the face of the earth.

Before Curtis could take a step toward the building, another car pulled up behind him, a sheriff’s car. It parked against the curb and a lanky guy with graying brown hair unfolded himself from behind the steering wheel and shot him a glance that seemed less than casual. He wore a sheriff’s badge.

Curtis nodded at the man and returned to his car. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to approach Greta. But she was worth the wait. And she was too important for him to give up. She was still so beautiful.