“Incredible. And two surgical procedures later, you now see perfectly.”

“I don’t know perfectly, but well enough. Probably better than you without your contact lenses.”

He raised his eyebrows. “If you could see that in this lighting, then you’re doing all right.”

She nodded toward the bar’s street window. “Car headlights helped. My mother actually deserves most of the credit for how I turned out. I never felt handicapped. I learned to use what I had.”

“And you gained your sight from some kind of stem-cell procedure?”

She nodded again. “In England. They did a lot of the early work in ocular regeneration. It was an amazing time of my life, and a little overwhelming.”

“I can only imagine.”

No, he couldn’t even begin to imagine, and Kendra didn’t want to talk about it. She glanced up at a large TV over the bar. A live remote newscast was at the scene of a horrific traffic accident, and the reporter was struggling to make sense of the carnage and twisted metal strewn over the roadway.

Dean turned to see what had grabbed her attention. “Quite a pileup.”

She nodded, her gaze narrowed on the screen. A helicopter shot of the scene showed that the roadway was covered with work lights, police cars, and fire trucks, and was atop a tall white bridge.

She suddenly straightened in her chair.

Then she stood up and stepped closer to the television. Dean quickly joined her at the bar.

“The Cabrillo State Bridge,” she said, studying the overview that the helicopter shot offered.

“The one that goes toward the zoo?”

She nodded. “Those idiots. They’re treating it like an accident.”

He turned toward her. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“Because it’s not an accident.”

Dean laughed, but cut it short when he realized she was serious.

“Um, why do you think that?”

Kendra was still staring at the television and shook her head in disgust. “They’re blowing it. I can’t believe it. They’re totally blowing it.”

“I still don’t get how—”

Kendra muttered a curse beneath her breath. “I wish we’d never seen this damn thing.”

“I’m starting to wish that, too,” he said dryly. “Want me to ask the bartender to change the channel?”

“No.”

“Come on, let’s go back and sit down. I’ll tell you all about myself.” He tried to take her arm, but she remained planted at the bar.

“I know quite a bit already,” she said absently, her gaze still locked on the television. “I know you’ve been to prison.”

He froze. “What?”

Her eyes narrowed on the screen when another camera angle came on the screen. “When you were younger.”

He was silent. “Nobody knows that.”

“You grew up in Florida, then spent some time in the Northeast. Maybe your college years? Are you an Ivy Leaguer?”

“You Googled me?”

“What? No, life’s too short.” She swore again. “I can’t believe those damned cops don’t see what’s right in front of them.”

“Let’s get back to me for a second. Does your mother know about the prison thing? Because if this got out—”

“Don’t sweat it. I didn’t know until two minutes ago. I was just looking you over to see what Mom saw in you, and it popped up.”

“What else ‘popped’ up?”

“You’re a motorcycle enthusiast. That’s where a lot of your time and money goes. Not just riding, but the tinkering. You have a Harley Sportster. I’m thinking you did some degreasing on it today.”

“Jesus.”

“I take that as a confirmation.”

“Either you were spying on me, or you’re psychic.”

“Neither.” She was still concentrating on the screen. “Fools. Not one homicide detective there. Not one. All accident investigators.”

Dean smiled. “Your mother said you were very observant and not to let it rattle me. I’m just now realizing what she meant by that. And, for the record, you did rattle me.”

“Sorry. Mom always tells me to wait and let things just come out in conversation. I was distracted.”

“Don’t be sorry. I like it. I’d always heard that blind people develop their other senses to an amazing degree. I guess you’re living proof. But it must be more than that.”

“I’m a little obsessive. No, a lot obsessive. I now treasure everything that I can see. And I won’t let go of what I learned from my other senses when I was blind. I don’t take anything for granted.”

“I’ll accept that answer. But you have to tell me how you knew all those things about me.”

“Sure.” She pointed to the television screen. “But first I need you to drive me there.”

“To the accident?”

“It’s not an accident, remember?”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

He was silent a moment. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those fetishists who get off on—”

“Someone needs to talk to them before they break down the scene and destroy evidence.” She turned and looked him in the eye. “I walked here. Either you’re giving me a ride there, or I’m calling a cab.”

“So our date is over?”

“It’s only over if you don’t give me a ride.”

Dean looked back at the television, where the news copter was circling the platoon of emergency workers and their flashing vehicles. He shook his head. “Got to be the weirdest date of my life.”

*   *   *

KENDRA’S CELL PHONE RANG WHEN they were on the road only ten minutes. She made a face when she glanced at the ID. “Mom. I was half expecting this.”

“Really? We haven’t had time for her to wonder if I’m threatening your virtue.”

“It’s not my virtue Mom’s concerned about.” She accessed the call. “Hi, Mom. I’m with Dean Halley now. I didn’t no-show, and I haven’t scared him off yet.” She looked inquiringly at Dean. He shook his head. “No, he thinks I’m weird, but he’s sticking with me.”

“Brave man. I knew I could count on him. He’s a fine teacher and a great guy. You have to admit I did a good job of bringing you two together. Now all you have to do is cement the relationship.”

“A relationship neither one of us wanted from the beginning. Why, Mom?”

“You know the answer. Dean is steady and wonderfully normal. He’s as close to the guy next door as I could find. That’s what you need, Kendra. Dean could lead you away from all those police and FBI types and make you enjoy it. He’s intelligent, gorgeous, and has a sense of humor. The only thing he’ll want from you won’t be anything more complicated than sex.”

She chuckled. “I told Dean you wouldn’t be concerned about my virtue.”

“Screw virtue. I’m concerned about your life. I want you safe.”

“I know, Mom,” she said gently. “And that’s the only reason I gave in about tonight. I love you and wanted to give you the chance to play Mother Teresa and save me from myself. You’ve done that all my life and done a great job. Tell me, are you missing it?”

“Maybe a little. You were my whole life for quite a while.” She cleared her throat. “But that doesn’t mean that I’m not right in this. Now, do you like Dean?”

“We haven’t had time to—” She glanced at Dean. “Yes, I like him. At first, I thought that he was too pretty, but maybe he can’t help that. And he doesn’t try to dodge, and I think maybe he’s honest.”

Dean smiled, still staring out the windshield. “You do know I can hear everything you’re saying, right?”

“You didn’t put him through any hoops?” Diane asked.

“Not intentionally.” She had just spotted blinking lights ahead. “Look, Mom, I have to go. I’m in his car and I—”

“You’re going out to dinner?” Diane sounded pleased. “That’s progress.”

“Yes, isn’t it? I’ll talk to you later, Mom.” She hung up.

“You’re very close,” Dean said quietly. “I thought so when Diane was talking about you to me. But you just confirmed it.”

“I love her. She made me what I am. Both physically and mentally.” She grimaced. “Well, maybe not quite. I take full responsibility for my faults and the wild oats I’ve sown. She had nothing to do with them.”

“Wild oats? You’re a music-therapy teacher.”