He laughed, then sucked it up when she glared at him. “I’m not kidding,” she warned him. If she’d had the strength, she’d have grabbed him by the shirt again and snarled right up into his face. “You’re not going anywhere near my-”

“Agreed,” he said quickly. “Do you want to call your sister, tell her I’ve got you and that we’re coming?”

“Yes. My cell phone died, and she’s probably worried-” She took the cell phone he offered, but she couldn’t get service. Then another contraction hit and hit hard, making her drop the phone. “Oh, God, oh, God…”

Hunter squeezed her hands and stayed with her, right with her, looking completely unnerved but not leaving her.

Something tugged inside her at that and it wasn’t the baby. “You don’t have to do this,” she whispered miserably. “I’d probably be running hard and fast if I were you.”

“No, you wouldn’t. And I won’t, either. And that-” he offered her a very small, very short smile, but it was a real one “-wasn’t an empty platitude.”

She had no idea why she suddenly felt like crying, but she blinked it back. “Cece.”

“What?”

“My name is Cece.”

He smiled, and it was a stunner. “Well, then, Cece. Let’s get you the hell out of here.”

THE NEXT SEVERAL HOURS nearly killed Lizzy. They were stopped by a police unit in a boat and had to talk their way past the enforced evacuation. Then they helped a family of four get across Third. And another after that.

When they finally made it to Cece’s condo, it was nearly dark. It’d taken all damn day to get there, and the place was empty. Lizzy knew this because she ran through the rooms until Jason caught her hand. Solemn and exhausted, he pulled her to him. “She’s not here, Lizzy.”

Right. Which meant that Cece had gotten out, and was somewhere safe. Which also meant that she had proof that Cece no longer needed her anymore, and Lizzy could finally have her own life, guilt-free.

Except…except maybe she’d really been free all this time and simply using Cece as an excuse, when it hadn’t been Cece holding her back at all.

But her own fear.

Tugging free of Jason, she took the stairs to the second level and looked in Cece’s bedroom for the third time. The bed was unmade, her cell phone plugged in to a charger on the nightstand, not charging because there was no electricity.

Jason came into the room behind her, quiet, a solid, comforting presence. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that maybe she’s at the hospital, or my place.”

Jason pulled out his cell phone. “Shit.”

“Wet?”

“Wet and fried.”

She whipped out hers. Wet, too, but somehow miraculously, still working. Of course she hadn’t gone for a full-body dunk like Jason had. She called her house, but the landlines were still down. She called the hospital but the lines were busy. She tried Mike’s cell, but her neighbor didn’t pick up. Then she got Cristina, and found out that the E.R. was still turning people away. She tried the San Luis Obispo hospital next, but Cece wasn’t listed as being there, so she shut the phone and shivered.

Jason’s hands settled on her arms. “This isn’t over. You just need some sleep-”

“Where is she?”

“Evacuated, at a shelter, is my guess,” he said.

“Yeah. Which means she’s alone and afraid. Cold and wet-” She broke off because her voice cracked, horrifying her.

“Ah, baby.” He turned her to face him and stroked a hand over her hair. “You’re so tired.”

She was. So damn tired. And cold. She set her head down on his shoulder, just for a minute, because surely nothing really bad could happen while she was resting against his broad shoulder.

“You need out of your clothes,” he said, running his hands up and down her spine.

She knew this. She was a nurse. She knew they both needed to be dry, needed, also, fuel for their bodies, and rest, if only for a few minutes.

Jason pulled off her rain poncho, then the sweatshirt beneath, leaving her in just the T-shirt he’d given her, which clung to her like she’d just competed at a wet T-shirt frat party. He crouched down to untie her soaked shoes, lifting each foot to pull them off, along with her socks while she stood there and shivered.

“With the power still out,” he said. “There’s no hot water. No dryer. We’ll spread the clothes out and rest while they dry.”

“I’ve seen the movies.” She looked down at the top of his head. “You’re going to strip me, then give me a line about hypothermia and use it to get me into bed.”

Still crouched in front of her, he raised his head and flashed a set of teeth in the dimming light. “Damn, you’re onto me.”

His mouth was smiling, trying to make light of what wasn’t a light situation at all, but his gaze didn’t even make the attempt. His eyes were dark, bleak and full of concern.

For her.

Oh, damn. He was still her greatest fantasy. “You know, I’ve seen hypothermia in people who’ve been out in far less than we’ve been.”

Straightening, he slid his hands up and down her arms. “Does this mean you will crawl into bed with me?”

“Maybe. For the greater good and all.” She reached for his sweatshirt, lifting it past his mouth-watering abs, pushing the material up until he took over, tugging it off. Her breath caught at his bare torso, hard and rippled with sinew. “We need to follow the rules regarding hypothermia,” she said softly, her fingers running over the tattoo along his biceps.

“Rules?” he asked a little unsteadily.

“You have to take off everything.”

“Far be it for me to break the rules.” Lending a helping hand, he made quick work of the T-shirt and tugged down her pants, leaving her in only her bra and panties as he kicked off his own shoes. “Christ, you are beautiful.”

And with him looking at her like that, she felt it, but suddenly, without the clothes, she got even colder, and her shivering became violent and involuntary.

Jason saw the change and immediately the sense of play left his face. He pulled her to him. “Okay, now we’re getting serious. Warming you up, and then sleep. Sleep before anything.”

“I just don’t think I can.”

He scooped her up. “Sure you can. It’ll be dark in a few minutes.” He set her on the bed. “With the power out, it’ll be pitch-black. We can’t do anything more until daylight anyway.” He yanked down the covers and nudged her onto the mattress.

“K-kay,” she said through her chattering teeth. “But only for a few minutes.”

“A few hours,” he corrected, stripping off his pants, getting into the bed with her, tugging the blankets over both of them. Then he pulled her in, deliciously warm and strong. “Sleep,” he commanded.

She opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t follow orders, but he felt so toasty that she sighed instead, and snuggled in.

And, shockingly, slept.

10

CECE WAS DOING her damnedest to pretend she was anywhere else other than in the storm of the century, in the back of a stranger’s Hummer.

In labor.

“On a beach,” she muttered to herself. “In the South Pacific. It’s hot and dry and there’s a cute cabana boy serving me a fruity drink-”

She broke off at the choked laugh from the man in the driver’s seat taking her through the craziness toward the hospital.

Hunter. He of the tall, dark and quietly strong persuasion, with the badass ’tude.

“I’m pretending I’m not here,” she told him.

“Good. Keep pretending. And when this is over, I’ll get you that fruity drink.”

“No can do. I’m done with badasses. No offense intended.”

“None taken.”

“Oh, and on my beach, I’m not as fat as a whale. Just so you know.”

He met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Are you seriously comparing yourself to a whale?”

“Well, look at me.”

“I am. I have been. I just see a pretty woman, scared half to death and trying to be strong.”

Her breath caught. And then again as the familiar tightening began. “Oh, God. Oh, shit,” she gasped as another contraction took her, tunneling to her very core. She tried to ride through the pain, but the storm swirling outside the windows scared her. What if they couldn’t get to the hospital?

She could see Hunter’s broad shoulders, flexing as he shifted the Hummer. They were wide shoulders, strong and capable. God, she hoped he was capable.

And, damn, but this contraction was different.

Harder.

“Close your eyes,” he directed from the front seat. “You’re on that beach, Cece. You’re warm. Hot even, in your favorite bathing suit. And your favorite people are with you. Who are your favorite people?”

She was writhing on the seat, dying, and he wanted her to discuss her favorite people. “Anyone not talking to me in the middle of a contraction.”

“I’m trying to distract you.”

“I’d rather you do something more useful-like have this baby for me.”

“Yeah, no can do, sorry.”

“No, I’m the sorry one. I’m sorry my parents died when I was a teen, which made me angry and stupid. I’m sorry that all the men I wasted my time dating in that stupidity only wanted in my pants, and I let them because that’s how I measured my worth-by how many men wanted me. I’m sorry you’re just the poor schmuck who had the misfortune of finding the preggo chick. The really pissy preggo chick.”

He said nothing to that and, into the awkward silence, as her contraction eased, she bit her lower lip and fought tears. God, she was so tired of herself. “I’m just sorry,” she whispered.

“Contraction over?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “And also the pity party for one, though I might backslide at the next contraction.”

“Fair enough. And for what it’s worth, anyone who doesn’t value you is the stupid one.”