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She began to cry in frustration after realizing she forgot her cell phone and therefore couldn't call her roommate to pick her up.

"No problem," I assured her. "I'll drive you home. But you might want me to take you to the ER first." She rejected that idea, mindful of the long wait in emergency rooms. Bending down to get a closer look, I could see the ankle beginning to swell. "Well, at the very least, you need to get an ice pack on that thing." She wiped away her tears and nodded. After I helped her up, she leaned against me, standing on one foot. I wrapped my arms around her, inhaling the sweet sweat glistening from her body. On impulse, I gave her a quick peck on the neck. She began to turn her head to face me when I scooped her into my arms, carried her to my car and settled her in the front seat. An awkward silence followed in the few minutes it took to reach Walton Woods. "I feel really safe in your arms," she finally said as I carried her up a few steps into her apartment.

Her roommate, a tall, slender girl named Samantha, gasped at the sight of Lindy in the arms of a strange man. Lindy introduced us, then described what happened: "And Mr. Renshaw, my chivalrous PO here, was kind enough to take me home. He rescued me." Had we been alone, I might have done more than just kiss her. Instead, I helped Samantha prepare an ice pack, then left.

She limped into my office the following week on her scheduled report day. She showed me her ankle, still swollen but obviously on the mend. She looked relieved after I told her that her urine had returned from the lab clean. "See, I told you I was keeping out of trouble. Well, last Saturday excepted," she added, drawing her mouth into a mock look of embarrassment. Then she confronted me: "Speaking of which, right before you carried me to your car, you kissed me, didn't you?"

Normally honest, I hesitated, unsure of where she was going with this. She might be thinking blackmail, I surmised, a way to coerce me into letting her court-ordered conditions slide in exchange for keeping her mouth shut. It could be my job if management got wind of what happened. I hemmed and hawed. "Well, I, I..."

"Come on, admit it," she prodded.

I looked away for a second, then turned back to face her. "Yes, I kissed you," I said grinning, feeling like a boy caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Then I turned serious. "Look, you were in pain and scared, and I did what anybody might have done if-"

"There's no need to make excuses or apologize Mr.-can I call you Brad?" I nodded. Folding her hands on my desk, she looked me straight in the eye. "Truth be told, Brad, I was about to kiss you back. But then you turned away and lifted me up, so the moment was lost. But maybe now it's time we admit there's something going on here irrespective of my legal problems."

"Huh huh, and what's that?" Still guarded, I played na__ve.

"What's that? Something called chemistry." She gave me one of those looks that said, AS IF YOU DIDN'T KNOW. "You feel it as well as I do, from your sexy blue eyes to your big broad shoulders."

"Think so?"

"Come on, dude,I picked up on it the first time I reported. The way you looked at me, your body language. That kiss only confirmed it."

"You're on probation, Lindy, and I'm your probation agent," I said, squirming in my seat. "It's taboo for agents and offenders to socialize, much less date. You have to know that."

"Fine. Then we'll forget the dating part. Let's just sleep together." We both roared, and it came as a welcome relief from what had been a tense moment. "But seriously, Brad," she said after we calmed down, "it wouldn't hurt if we got together for lunch, would it, one little lunch?"

"Well, that WOULD count as a community contact," I said, watching her face light up.

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