Blind Faith by Christiane Heggan

would envy. His neck was thick, his bare chest broad and solid, and at the moment, covered with a thin sheen of perspiration.
    Shamelessly, she let her gaze linger on the powerful thighs as he bounced around the punching bag with the grace of a dancer. Each punch sank into the heavy bag with a solid thud and was quickly followed by another. He was strong and fast, but Kelly wasn't surprised. He had been an amateur boxer once and on the verge of turning professional when he had changed his plans and entered the police academy instead.
    Though it didn't show now, there was an edgy quality about him that instantly made him stand out from the rest of his colleagues. Even the criminals and witnesses he questioned sensed it and knew better than to play games with him. Maybe that's why his arrest conviction ratio was one of the best in the department. No one dared bullshit Nick Mcbride .
    She would be lying if she said she had never thought of him in a sexual way. It was difficult to be in the presence of a man like Nick and not feel a little weak in the knees. But she had never acted on those feelings. After two disastrous relationships, Kelly had sworn off men, at least for the moment.
    Besides, he didn't have a stellar track record himself in the romance department. Rumor had it he was too passionate about his work, almost to the point of being fanatical about it. Coming in second to a job wasn't something many women could put up with. His ex-wife certainly hadn't, and to Kelly's knowledge, neither had anyone after her.
    She waited until he had sunk the last punch and was reaching for a towel from a nearby bench before pulling away from the door.
    Seven.
    At the sound of quick, sharp footsteps hitting the concrete floor, Nick looked up and slowly wrapped his towel around his neck as Kelly Robolo made her way across the room.
    Considering that only five weeks ago she had been close to dying, she looked remarkably well. Her black hair, longer than he remembered, was cut in practical layers and framed a face his sister thought belonged on a cover model. Her eyes were by far her best feature. They were large and dark and in constant motion, as though afraid they'd miss something.
    As she walked toward him in that quick, purposeful stride, he took in the rest of her, the lean tweed skirt that reached midcalf , and the bulky Irish fisherman sweater that kept her figure from becoming a distraction. Having seen her with a lot less on, he knew that could be a problem.
    He had met her three years ago when she had needed information on a swindling scheme she was investigating. Though Nick didn't work with reporters as a rule, he had made an exception for Kelly--partly because her reputation preceded her and partly because he had liked her right away. She didn't act cute or flirtatious like some reporters he knew.
    And she wasn't afraid to follow a lead no matter how risky it might be.
    In
Philadelphia
, her name alone could evoke admiration or fear, depending on who stood at the receiving end of those four dreaded little words.
    "Kelly Robolo is here."
    Maybe the respect he had felt toward her was the reason he had broken his golden rule about working with reporters. And he had lived to regret it. He had trusted her and now his best friend was dead.
    She stopped in front of him. "Hello, Nick."
    Nick wiped his face with the towel. He had no idea what she could possibly want with him, but it had to be serious for her to come here.
    The last time they had spoken to each other was in the hospital, four days or so after the shooting. And he had been the one doing all the talking then.
    He gave a short nod. "Kelly."
    The chilly greeting didn't seem to faze her, or if it did, she didn't show it. "Do you have a minute?" she asked.
    "No." He started unrolling the hand wrap around his knuckles.
    "Look, Nick. I know I'm not your favorite person right now, but when you lashed out at me that day at the hospital, you didn't give me much of a chance to