He saw there was no slight woman with glossy brown hair, teetering away as quickly as her high-heeled boots would allow.“Shit.”He’d tried to make a quick exit, throwing a couple twenties on the bar, more than enough to settle up the tab. He’d been rushing toward the door, when the bartender called him back. Poppy had left without her jacket and purse.Then at the door, the rude brunette, who must have witnessed Poppy’s abrupt departure, cut him off. He’d gotten rid of her, again, this time using his abilities to send her on her way.He swore again, both at the hindrances that had slowed him down and because he couldn’t see Poppy. He didn’t think she could have gotten very far. Between the wine and the boots, her progress would have to be pretty slow. He’d be lucky if he didn’t find her sprawled on the concrete with a broken ankle.That image spurring him on, he strode down the sidewalk toward the apartment building. Surely she wasn’t so tipsy she’d taken off in the wrong direction.One block later, he found her.
