An industrial park near downtown Detroit 2:04 A.M. on a Friday night...

"Pooky! Watch out!"

Callie watched in horror as her cousin stood in the middle of the seemingly deserted street in a zombielike trance. So captivated by something in a store window, he never noticed the speeding car heading in his direction.

Callie vaulted over the workhorse, through the construction area, and dashed out into the street. The bright headlights of the red sports car shone on her face, right before the sound of tires screeching led her to believe the driver had finally noticed the pedestrians in his path.

The smell of burning rubber was strong and ominously close, but Callie had no time to think about that. Her complete attention was focused on reaching Pooky before the car did.

Although Pooky was a solid hundred pounds heavier and several inches taller than she, Callie threw her full weight of 102 pounds into her cousin. She felt a slight breeze and saw a flash of red out of the corner of her eye just as the two entangled bodies went tumbling across the grassy knoll.

"My shoe! I just bought those yesterday!"

"Forget your shoe. Are you okay?" Callie did a quick inspection of her cousin, giving him the once-over. Her heart was still pounding at top speed, and she felt short of breath when she allowed herself to think about how close she'd come to losing the only family member she acknowledged.

Pooky attempted to sit up and felt the slight weight bearing down on him. "Callie."

"Yes."

"Will you please get off my back?"

"Oh." Callie sat back on her knees, still studying every inch of her cousin for injury. The bright fuchsia skirt was stained with oil from the pavement, and there was a gaping hole in the fishnet stocking, but beyond that everything else appeared to be normal. Or as close to normal as Pooky ever came.

Pooky held up the surviving shoe. "Damn. These were originally priced at one hundred and twenty-five dollars. I got them on sale at sixty percent off. Do you know how hard it is to find quality designer shoes — in a size thirteen — at sixty percent off?!"

Callie felt her bottom lip tremble with laughter, even as the water filled her eyes. She couldn't imagine what she would do without Pooky. This odd creature, despite all the flamboyant looks, was the only thing standing between her and complete devastation. No one could guess with a look the type of bravery and strength of will that was hidden beneath that burgundy wig. Unable to stop it, Callie felt a single tear slide down her face.

Pooky stood. "What are you crying about? I'm the one out seventy bucks, not to mention the cost of this outfit." Pooky reached down and lifted Callie to her feet as if she weighed little more than a child, which in truth she did.

Callie dusted off her worn green coveralls and haphazardly swiped at her eyes. "We both know that dress only cost you the price of the fabric, since you make all your clothes yourself."

Pooky reached up and carefully adjusted the wig that amazingly enough had survived the fall. "That's not the point. I still —" Pooky stopped in midsentence, noticing Callie's trembling body for the first time. "Hey now, sugar bear. I'm fine, really." Pooky twirled in a circle with arms outstretched. "See?"

Callie grabbed her much taller cousin around the waist. "I almost lost you."

"Girlfriend, please," Pooky called over a shoulder, limping back out into the middle of the street to collect the other shoe.

"God's not ready for me yet, and the devil knows better than to mess with this."

Callie shook her head and swiped at her eyes again, feeling closer to calm. When would she learn that nothing, not even a near-death experience, could rattle this menace to society she lovingly called Pooky.

"Well, until God's ready or the devil gets braver, I guess I'm stuck with you."

"Guess so," Pooky answered distractedly, too busy inspecting the damaged shoe.

Only then did Callie remember that they were not alone on the empty street. She turned her head in the direction where she'd seen the flash of red. The car had finally come to a stop several yards away. It had crashed up against the side of a Dumpster.

Callie covered her mouth with both hands. "Oh my God," she whispered, breaking into a dead run. She heard the clippity-clap of Pooky's one-shoe gait and realized her cousin was right beside her.

Ten feet from the car they both stopped in their tracks as the passenger side door slowly creaked open. One long leg emerged and clumsily flopped to the ground, soon another joined it. They waited, frozen in time, for the body attached to the legs to make an appearance, but it never did.

Julian Cruise attempted to sit up. He willed his considerable strength to move his aching body but nothing happened. It seemed that getting the far side door open had zapped him of what little reserve he had remaining after the traumatic impact. His driver's side door was jammed, and he vaguely remembered slamming against something large and metal.

His vision was blurred, and when he lifted his arm to his face, he discovered there was no pain in his upper portion. He did a quick mental inventory and realized his lower body took the brunt of the blow, but as far as he could tell, nothing was broken.

A vision came into his blurred sights, and he recognized the outline of the woman he'd swerved to avoid hitting. He took comfort in the fact that she was apparently all right. He casually noted that she was much larger than he first assumed, not more than an inch or two shorter than his six feet. She was a big-boned girl. Really big boned. His analytical mind quickly took in what he could discern of the image in front of him.

Her bright fuchsia dress was the definition of tacky, and the fact that it almost matched the burgundy wig exactly only added to the overall tastelessness. He promptly concluded that she was a streetwalker, but as she bent over him, he gave up that hypothesis. Julian decided that this had to be the ugliest woman he'd ever seen. If she had to make her living seducing men, he was pretty certain she'd starve to death. And that darkening around the chin area that suspiciously resembled a five o'clock shadow certainly did not help matters.

"Mister? Are you okay?" Her soft, husky voice sounded like a siren alarm to his pounding head. He tried to nod but was unsure if he was successful.

"Is he okay?" A head popped out from under the large woman's arm.An adorable little face that was twisted in concern.

"I don't know," the woman answered. "He seems disoriented."

"Mister, we're going to get some help for you, okay? You just stay right there."

"Where is he going, Callie?" came the woman's sardonic reply.

"Maybe we should try to get him out of the car."

"I don't think we should move the body."

"He's not dead, Pook! Just hurt."

Julian silently listened to the strange conversation. He rubbed at his face again, trying to make sense of the image. The second figure was as confusing as the first. The cover-alls and twisted baseball cap gave the appearance of a workman, but the size of the person clearly suggested a child. And there was something about the face, that rich golden skin and soft mouth. He surmised that this must be the amazon's child, a preadolescent boy.

"You know first aid, right?" The boy looked up at his mother in frustration.

"The Heimlich maneuver, but I don't think that's going to help us now, Callie."

"Well, hell! At least I'm trying to think of something! Stop being your typically sarcastic self and help me out here."

Julian frowned, thinking that if this was his disrespectful child, the boy would be quickly brought to task for speaking to him in such a manner.

"Look, I'll go find a phone. You stay with him." The mother turned to leave; her son grabbed her arm.

"Be careful, Pooky."

Julian thought that was a strange nickname for one's mother. He saw the mother's faint wink of an eye.

"I told you the devil knows better than to mess with this." The mother disappeared from his line of vision, and he was left with the child.

"Hang in there, mister. Help is on the way."

The boy leaned over him, and Julian caught his first clear image of soft brown eyes framed in the longest lashes he'd ever seen. He thought it odd that a woman that ugly could produce such an attractive child.

Julian fell back on the seat in exhaustion, thinking that for the kid's sake, he hoped the boy developed some more manly features soon or else high school was going to be a really tough four years. With that thought, he fainted.

Callie leaned over the unconscious man, looking for signs of life. The slight lift and fall of his chest gave her some small comfort. Amazingly enough, the man seemed essentially un-injured. Other than the slight disorientation he displayed, the fact that he was semilucid was a very good indication. He might come out of this practically unscathed, which was more than could be said for his classic car. She leaned forward a little more to get a better look at his face.

Callie Tyler had two distinctly unique abilities at her disposal. Her phenomenal gift for fixing anything on wheels and her uncanny ability of reading people. With one look, she knew without a doubt that this well-dressed, overly handsome man was gonna be trouble. He was unconscious now, she thought, but eventually he would wake up, and when he did, he would have retaliation on his mind.

She studied the milk-chocolate man laid out like dessert.

He had a finely featured face that did not seem to jive with the brawny body that came with it. His build gave the impression of a man who used his physical strength often. Even in a relaxed position, the bulging biceps were pressing against the light blue dress shirt. But his face was...Callie twisted her mouth in thought and decided scholarly was the only word that fit. Yes, he looked scholarly. A thinker, not a builder.

She tilted her head to the side to study his profile and realized that at his temples, short-cropped curls were just starting to show signs of a little salt being added to the pepper. What a lovely profile it was, accentuating full sensual lips that begged for attention. Callie found herself mystified by the perfect heart-shaped mouth outlined by a thick black mustache. She felt something like a compulsion to reach out and gently run her finger across his full bottom lip. So she did. That's when she noticed the cleft in his chin and found herself cooing like an idiot. How could something so small add so much to a face?

She felt the urge to follow her finger with her tongue, tracing those beautiful lips and then moving down to the little cleft. Only with the shake of her head was she able to break the spell. Something about this unconscious stranger was pulling her in like quicksand. She stood straight and stretched. It was really no great mystery when she thought about it. It had been almost two years since she'd been in anything resembling a relationship. Face it, Callie, your horny hormones are on overload. In fact, this was probably the closest she'd been to a true member of the opposite sex in months. Callie smiled to herself. Sad as it was, an unconscious man was turning her on like crazy. It was understandable — in his sleeping state he seemed close to perfect, but Callie knew that wide-awake he would be anything but. "And it doesn't take a scholar to figure that out," she whispered to her sleeping ward.

Left with nothing better to do until Pooky returned with help, she turned her attention to the banged-up vehicle. She stepped back several feet and surveyed the damage from all angles. A 1965 Corvette Stingray in cherry apple-red with a soft white drop-top. Now this was the ideal male.

She ran her hand along the smooth body, simply in awe of the craftsmanship that went into each and every curve. Callie didn't doubt for a minute that this car was built with loving hands. She finally came to the driver's side, and her lust turned to sorrow.

She could not see the extent of the damage because of its position against the Dumpster. From what she could see, most of the damage looked superficial, but she would have to see the driver's side door to be certain. It was a small car, and Callie knew she was strong despite her size. She braced her body against the car and her feet against the Dumpster and tried to pry the two apart. It didn't work. She needed a crowbar or something similar. She went back around the car to get the keys out of the ignition, hoping there would be some type of tools in the trunk.