Storm Watch

by

Jill Shalvis

www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author

USA TODAY bestselling author JILL SHALVIS is happily writing her next book from her neck of the Sierras. You can find her books wherever romance novels are sold, or visit her on the web at www.jillshalvis.com.

Twelve super-sexy books.

All the gorgeous military heroes you can handle.

One UNIFORMLY HOT! mini-series.

Don’t miss Mills & Boon® Blaze®’s first twelve-book continuity series, featuring irresistible soldiers from all branches of the armed forces.

Watch for:

THE SOLDIER by Rhonda Nelson (Special Forces) July 2010

STORM WATCH by Jill Shalvis (National Guard) August 2010

HER LAST LINE OF DEFENCE by Marie Donovan (Green Berets) September 2010

SOLDIER IN CHARGE by Jennifer LaBrecque (Paratrooper) October 2010

SEALED AND DELIVERED by Jill Monroe (Navy SEALs) November 2010

CHRISTMAS MALE by Cara Summers (Military Police) December 2010

Uniformly Hot!

The Few. The Proud. The Sexy as Hell.

Available in August 2010 from Mills & Boon® Blaze®

BLAZE 2-IN-1

Amorous Liaisons by Sarah Mayberry & Naked Ambition by Jule McBride

Storm Watch by Jill Shalvis

Endless Summer by Julie Kenner, Karen Anders & Jill Monroe

To Brenda Chin, for letting me write all these sexy firefighters and military heroes my way.

OK, it’s your way, but you let me think it’s my way.

The mark of a great editor…

Chapter One

JASON MAUER STAGGERED through the fifty-mile-an-hour winds and into the house with three things on his mind—food, sleep and sex.

Thanks to Uncle Sam and the National Guard, he hadn’t been home for any real length of time in years, home being the small California beach town of Santa Rey. When he was in town, he shared a house with his brother, Dustin, and hoped to find the fridge stocked with at least sandwich makings and, please God, a beer or two.

As for the sleep…well, he had a bedroom. The question was could he shut down enough, push away the haunting memories long enough to actually get some shut-eye.

The jury was still out on that one.

Which left sex.

He needed a woman for that, at least the way he liked it, and seeing as he’d been working his ass off on his last military stint, spending some special quality time at every national disaster that had hit the news, plus a bunch that hadn’t, he was fairly certain he was lucky just to be alive, much less naked with a woman.

With a bone-weary sigh, he dropped his gear and headed directly toward the refrigerator. He should call his brother, his sister and his mom, and let them know he was back a few days early…but they’d be all over him, wondering if he was really okay, if he’d recovered from his loss.

He hadn’t.

So he didn’t call, not yet. Instead, he looked out the windows into the growing dark, even though it was barely five o’clock in the afternoon in June. From the kitchen window, he watched the ocean pound the shore, the waves pushing fifteen feet minimum. The winds had stirred up some seriously ominous clouds, and he was surprised to see trees doubled over from the gusts.

He’d seen bad weather in his time—hello, hurricanes Rita and Katrina—but nothing here on the supposedly mild Central California coast.

His stomach growled, reminding him that it’d taken him all day and three flights to get here, bad storm or not, and he couldn’t remember the last thing he’d eaten. Peanuts, given to him by a cute flight attendant? No, a candy bar grabbed at the airport.

And the damn fridge was empty.

Yeah. Pretty much how his life felt at the moment. Empty as hell. Matt would laugh at that and tell him to get over himself.

But Matt was dead, six weeks now.

Still shell-shocked, Jason’s gut clenched hard at the thought of his best friend lying six feet under, and suddenly he was no longer hungry. Fuck it, he thought. Fuck thinking, he was going directly to bed, no passing Go. He kicked off his shoes, and so damn tired he practically staggered like a drunk, moved down the hallway. He was “in the tween” as his sister, Shelly, would say. In between military life, which was all he’d known since high school, and his old life, which no longer even seemed real.

Which world did he want?

The government wanted him back, of course. He was highly trained and valuable. That wasn’t ego, but fact. He was a rescue expert who worked with nerves of steel. Or he had…

His family was hoping he’d stick here. His mother, living twenty miles north of Santa Rey in San Luis Obispo, wanted him to be safe and sound. His sister, who lived with her while going to Cal Poly, wanted him to date her friends. Dustin—here in Santa Rey—was his partner in their on-the-side renovation business, and wanted him home to be a more active presence.

As for what Jason wanted? No clue. None. Zero.

Zip.

But he had a few weeks to figure it out. With a sigh, he looked around the empty house. Dustin lived with his fiancé, Cristina, most of the time these days, which left the place looking a bit neglected. It’d been just waiting for him to come back to help Dustin finish the upgrades, so they could sell it and move on to the next project. Dustin had redone the kitchen and both bathrooms. He’d pulled the carpet and refinished the original hardwood floors. And he’d done a good job, too. All that was left was a couple coats of paint and some tile in the entry, and this house could be flipped, something Dustin was eager to do.

As for himself, he was having a hard time caring. About anything—except his three simple needs.

Since there was no food and no willing woman, he’d get right to the sleeping portion of the evening. The room was furnished—as opposed to the last time he’d seen it, when it’d just had a mattress on the unfinished floor. Now there was oversize knotty pine furniture, complete with a king-size bed. It seemed hugely luxurious compared to what he was used to, and it hit him.

He really was back in the real world.

Physically, anyway. Mentally? Not yet. Not even close. He didn’t even know if he could come back to his world and not be ready to protect and serve twenty-four/seven. Not be hard and cold and willing to do whatever it took…

Be normal.

With the wind continuing to batter the house, he stripped off his shirt and flicked on the small TV over the dresser.

No reception.

He pulled out his cell phone and searched for the weather, and discovered the reason. Apparently he’d walked into an unprecedented storm, with even heavier rain and wind expected. For an extra bonus, flash-floods warnings were in effect.

Wasn’t that special. He hadn’t dealt with a flood since six weeks ago, in the Midwest, where his unit had been called in to assist with SAR.

He and Matt had both gone in, but only Jason had come out.

Yeah. This was going to be a kick.

He headed straight for the bed and felt some of the tension leave him in anticipation of sleep. With a long sigh, he stripped out of his pants, then stretched out on the mattress with only his boxer briefs and dark thoughts.

Tired and edgy, and feeling old for his twenty-nine years, he let himself relax, hoping like hell he was too far gone into exhaustion to dream. As he drifted off to the wild winds pummeling the house, his stomach growled, and he promised it that even if a naked woman appeared at his side right then and there, food—not sex—was next on the list.

JASON AWOKE with a jerk and leaped to his feet to run for his gear. When he realized he wasn’t on the line but back at home, he lay down again and swiped a hand over his face as the rain and wind continued to batter the house around him.

He didn’t like to admit that he wasn’t decompressing fast enough, or that his hand was trembling, but he’d deal with both. Because that’s what he did—deal with things. That was his claim to fame, his skill, his MO.

Letting out another long, careful breath, he took in his surroundings and realized it was nearly dawn.

Which meant he’d slept straight through the night.

And then he realized something else. He’d been awoken by an assortment of brain-racking noises. The crazy wind. The steady drum of rain pounding on the roof and the windows.

Adding to the racket was the ringing of a phone, and then the click of a message machine.

“You know what to do at the beep,” came Dustin’s recorded voice from somewhere nearby.

And then a soft, female voice, crackling through static and hard to hear. “Dustin? Dustin, are you there?”

The male in Jason, the one who hadn’t been with a woman in so long, took in the pretty voice and thought, Go, Dustin, but even through the incredibly bad connection, he recognized that she wasn’t trying to be seductive and fun. No, she was filled with nerves. Something within Jason automatically reacted to that, the same something that had put him in the military in the first place, the thing that made it impossible for him to walk away from a fight or someone in trouble, and he lifted his head, searching the still dark room for the phone.

There wasn’t one, not in here.

“I think I need help,” she went on as Jason ran out of the bedroom to find the phone, wondering if she was Cristina, Dustin’s fiancé. With the horrible connection, there was no way to tell for sure, but he doubted it. The Cristina he knew didn’t ask for help.

He finally narrowed in on a blinking red light on the nightstand in Dustin’s bedroom, and knew he’d found the machine. He reached for the phone connected to it, but the receiver wasn’t in its cradle. “Shit.”

“Dustin?” she said again, her voice breaking up with static.

Jason could hear the storm ravaging in the background, both through the phone and the windows, coming in with unexpected surround sound.

“I know you’re not scheduled to work this weekend,” she went on, “so I’m really hoping you’re there.”

“Hang on,” Jason told the machine and slapped on the light, squinting into the sudden brightness as he searched for the on-the-loose phone. Gotcha, he thought triumphantly, eyeing the cordless handset lying on a dresser. He hit the talk button with his thumb and…nothing.

The battery was dead.

“Don’t hang up,” he yelled at the machine as if she could hear him, and once again went running, slamming his shoulder into the doorway. “Goddammit.” In the living room, he looked around in the wan light for another phone.

There. On the small table beside the couch. Lunging for it, he barked “Hello!” into the receiver, just in time to hear the click.

He’d lost her.

He was getting good at that, losing people—and yeah, there it was, right on cue, the helplessness surging up into his chest, making it impossible to breathe without pain.

He rounded back toward the bedroom, holding his aching shoulder, going for his cell phone. Seemed he was on a mission after all—to first find Dustin and then, through him, hopefully the woman with the worry in her voice, the woman who needed help.

AS LIZZY MANN TOSSED aside her cell phone and drove through winds that were jarring her little Honda around like it was nothing more than a Matchbox car, she wished her sister would call again. Not that wishing had ever gotten her anywhere with Cece.

Ever.

“Evacuations are beginning,” the deejay announced through her radio, and Lizzy tensed.

“The Santa Rey bowl is filling up, starting at Main,” he said. “All the way to the high school.”

“Don’t say Eastside,” she murmured, glancing at the radio as if she could actually affect the report. “Please. Please, don’t say—”

“And all of Eastside, starting at Second.”

Naturally, and for Lizzy, the storm took a right turn from nasty into Hell-ville. Because Eastside was where she had to go. Of course it was where she had to go. Because this wouldn’t be a Cece situation if it didn’t put Lizzy in danger or jeopardy.

Not fair, Lizzy reminded herself. Her sister had changed. She really had. Yes, growing up after losing their parents meant that Lizzy had always been the mom, the one in charge, but now they were both adults. And what might have started out as a New Year’s resolution, a slightly drunken one, had become a new life’s resolve for Cece. Her baby sister was getting her stuff together, turning things around. No more drinking, drugs, lying and, especially, no more wild men. No more men period.

Actually, they’d both made that vow.

Since then, for the past six months, Lizzy had watched Cece bloom into a determined, independent twenty-four-year-old, which had been amazing to witness.

But that was about to be tested, because her sister was alone in this storm, and given her lifelong fear of them, she was also most likely terrified. And an alone, terrified Cece was never a good thing.

Sure, they’d talked earlier, at Lizzy’s midnight break at the hospital, where she worked as an E.R. nurse. Cece had sworn she was fine. But now she wasn’t answering her phone.

Lizzy was well aware that this was all her hang-up, that Cece was smart enough to evacuate, but Lizzy had been the mom for so long she couldn’t rest until she knew for certain.

Especially now that Cece was pregnant…

Unfortunately Lizzy’s car wasn’t equipped for driving in these conditions. Her tires were shot, and with the roads under a few inches of water, there was no way she could get to Third Avenue, where Cece had moved shortly after her transformation six months ago.

She’d called her neighbor, an ex-cop named Mike, but he hadn’t picked up. She’d left him a message to keep an eye on her place, and let her know if anyone showed up there. Her next call had been to Dustin. They were friends from the hospital where Dustin, an EMT, often delivered patients. She had a whole group of friends from the hospital who would have helped, but for proximity reasons, she’d tagged Dustin as her best bet. He could get to Third in the storm with his SUV. All she had to do was find him. She knew he wasn’t scheduled to work at the firehouse today, and he wasn’t at Cristina’s place—she’d checked.

Which meant he had to be home. Hopefully.

“Going to get more than twenty-four inches of rain,” the deejay said. “Crazy.”

Two feet of rain, Lizzy thought, her fingers tightening on the steering wheel. Two feet in California. It boggled her mind. On a good day, Santa Rey was a sweet, little, quirky, fun beach town, with tourists filling the unique downtown streets, enjoying the outdoor cafés, shops and art galleries while skate-boarders and old ladies alike vied for the wide oaklined sidewalks.

Not today.

Today, Lizzy was alone on the roads, the beach void of the surfers and tan seekers.

She turned onto Dustin’s street, water spraying up on her windshield from the already flooded curbs, blinding her for a second. The only car in his driveway was a Jeep she didn’t recognize, but Dustin had a huge garage. If he was home, and she hoped like hell that he was, he’d be parked inside. Pulling up the hood on her thin hoodie sweatshirt, she opened her car door.

And stepped into several inches of water.

The icy wetness seeped up into the hospital scrubs she hadn’t taken the time to change out of, the thin cotton clinging to her calves and sucking the breath out of her lungs. She eyed Dustin’s house, which, like her own, was on a raised foundation, as were most of the other houses on this street, and therefore elevated off the ground. Hopefully, the concrete footings would be enough to keep them from flooding.

Unfortunately, Santa Rey sat squarely between a set of low, gently rolling hills on the east and the Pacific Ocean on the west, in a little nature-made bowl of a valley.

Now with fifteen-foot swells threatening to rise even higher, and the heavy rainfall steadily sliding down the mountains with no growth to stop it thanks to last year’s tragic wildfires, that bowl was filling up.

Leaving the town in serious trouble.

By profession, Lizzy was good in an emergency. Her job depended on it. She was strong of mind and body and spirit, and she knew how to be cool, calm and collected.

Or at least appear that way.

But right now, she was having a hard time. She just needed to see Cece, and then she’d relax.

Sloshing through the water up Dustin’s front path, the driving wind nearly knocked her off her feet. At the door, she pounded her fist on the wood to be heard over the unbelievable din of the storm raging around her, and reached for the doorknob at the same time, surprised and relieved when it turned in her fingers. “Hello!” she called out into the dark house. “Dustin? It’s me…”

The living room and kitchen lights weren’t on, but she saw a light coming from down the hall. She turned back and fought the front door closed. “Dustin? Cristina?”

In answer, a shadow came along the hall. A very tall, built shadow, over six feet. But here was the thing—Dustin wasn’t six feet. Plus he had a long, lanky runner’s body that tended toward skinny.

Truth was, Dustin looked like Harry Potter all grown-up, complete with the sweet and kind characteristics—not like his body had been honed into a lean, mean, fighting machine.

Such as the one heading toward her.

Uh-oh.

He kept coming at her, in tune to the house shuddering and moaning around them, like something out of a horror movie, and she reminded herself that horror movies made her laugh. But she instinctively moved back a step, tripping over her own two very wet feet and—

Landed on her ass.

She’d been doing Tae Bo for at least five years. She should be able to kung fu his ass—all she had to do was stand up and execute a roundhouse kick—

Except the shadow crouched down to her level. “Are you okay?”

The question only further scattered her brain. Why would a bad guy ask her if she was okay? “Keep your mitts off me.”

“Okay.” He lifted them in surrender. “Are you the woman who called here? Do you need help?”

Dawn had barely broken and, with no lights, he was still nothing more than a dark outline of a man. A very tall, built man that she blinked up at. “How did you know I called?”

“Because I was trying to get to the phone. I couldn’t find it, and then when I did, the battery was dead.”

He didn’t sound like a bad guy. He sounded like a sleepy, slightly irritated guy who’d been woken up, his voice low and raspy.

“You hung up too fast,” he told her.

Yeah, definitely irritated.

And also, oddly familiar. Who the hell was he?

Chapter Two

“CAN YOU HEAR ME?” he asked her. “Are you okay?”

Lizzy knew that voice. How did she know that voice?

Why did she know that voice?

The guy straightened to his full height. She heard a click, and then the room was filled with light from a lamp next to the couch.

Her bad guy was wearing a pair of army-green boxer briefs.

And nothing else.

Well, except a gorgeous body that appeared to have been chiseled with the same care and build of a Greek god, layered with sinew and sleek, tanned skin and dipped in testosterone for good measure.

Holy smokes. “Um.” She shoved back her hood. “I’m looking for Dustin—” But as she focused in on him, specifically on the tribal band tattoo on his biceps, she broke off her words. He had a tat on his pec, too, a military troop number, which was new, but the one on his arm was not, and her gaze jerked up to his face.

His voice had been familiar for a reason, and her confusion vanished, replaced by shock and surprise, and not a happy one at that. Yeah, she knew him—as the bane of her existence.

At least that’s who he’d been in high school—Jason Mauer.

Dustin’s brother.

He was staring at her, as well, full recognition on his face. “Wow. Lizzy Mann, all grown up.”

“I was about to say the same.”

At her bring-on-the-icicles tone, his lips curved. “So you’re still uptight and pissy, I see.”

“I have my moments. You still an ass?”

He laughed, the sound low and rusty, as if maybe he hadn’t laughed in a long time. “Have my moments.” He eyed her scrubs. “Dr. Mann now, right?”

Everyone in Santa Rey had known she’d gotten a full ride scholarship to UCLA to follow her childhood dream of becoming a doctor. Apparently he didn’t know that she hadn’t actually gone, that she’d stayed here and raised Cece, and was only now pursuing that dream again, thanks to a grant her hospital had just awarded her to go to medical school in the fall. “No. Just Lizzy. What are you doing here? I thought you were in the National Guard.”

“I am. Was.”

“You’re out?”

He spread his hands and lifted his shoulders, as if not sure. “In between gigs, I guess you could say.”

Because their last names had both started with M, she’d sat next to him in every single class from elementary school all the way through to graduation. She hadn’t talked much—she hadn’t been able to, what with tripping over her tongue every time she so much as looked at him.

Which hadn’t mattered because he hadn’t looked at her in return. He’d been far too busy being both a football and a basketball star. Oh, and being popular. And going after every girl in school—except her.

Yeah, when it came to Jason, her teenage memories were all some variety of the same theme—humiliation and resignation. That wouldn’t be the case for him. He’d been a restless student, far more into his sports than his studies, but it hadn’t mattered. Not with his easygoing, laid-back charm. The teachers had fallen all over him, always making Lizzy help him catch up when he missed school for a game. That she’d been so shy as to make that nearly impossible had amused him to no end. He’d spent endless hours entertaining himself at her expense, either making her repeat a lengthy explanation just to watch her trip over her tongue, or playing dumb until she’d lose her patience with him.

And then he’d lean back with all that athletic grace and gorgeousness, all stretched out and lazy as hell, and grin.

She’d hated him.

And she’d loved him.

Horrifying and simple as that.

It’d ended when they’d graduated. He’d left immediately for the National Guard, and she’d gone off to UCLA—except she hadn’t. Nope, her dreams had been sidelined when her parents had gotten themselves killed flying over the Grand Canyon in a stunt plane—their anniversary gift to each other.

And she’d given up her scholarships and stayed in town to raise her thirteen-year-old sister.

“So, talk about a blast from the past, huh?” he asked in that low, sort of gravelly voice that used to make her squirm in her seat.

Yes, but since that past, she’d found her guts and courage, and now her tongue behaved, never tripping her up at the sight of a cute guy.

“Married with kids?” he asked.

“No.”

He smiled. “Not feeling that big three-oh breathing down your neck?”

“No.” For most of the time they’d ever spent together, she’d either wanted to kill him or have his babies. Apparently that was still the case. God, she’d been so young, and very naive, and she hated that reminder. If he’d so much as quirked a smile in her direction, she’d have done anything he wanted. Luckily, he’d never known the power he’d held, and she was no longer that girl. Nope, she was a twenty-nine-year-old woman, who absolutely did not want to think about his smile, and the way it still activated all her good parts.

It’d taken a long time, but painful experience by painful experience, she’d toughened up, learned to speak up for what she wanted. Mostly, she’d also learned that things worked out much better when both parties were enamored.

Not that that had happened in a while. After a series of missteps in the man department, mostly due to her own inability to fully connect to someone because when she was so busy with Cece, she’d decided to try something new and had gone off men altogether. Cristina had joined her for a while, but then she’d done the unthinkable and fallen in love with Dustin.

Leaving Lizzy alone on her penis embargo.

Well, not completely alone. Her sister had far more reasons than anyone to give up on men, as she’d just about tried the entire male species, at least all the wild ones anyway. She looked at Jason. “Definitely not feeling the big three-oh breathing down my neck.” Her life was just beginning, actually. “Do you know where Dustin is?”

“I don’t.” He stepped toward her, the light from the lamp bathing him in a soft glow that only emphasized the gorgeousness up close and personal. She tried not to stare at him and failed.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

The closer he got, the harder it was for her to breathe, so no. No, she wasn’t okay.

Not by a long shot.

Her legs had turned to overcooked noodles at first sight of him and, despite her resolve, her brain had gone to mush. She could tell herself she’d gotten over him a damn long time ago, but the truth was, if he so much as crooked his pinkie finger in her direction, she was going to regress to that pathetic teenager she’d once been, and melt in a little puddle of longing at his feet.

Lord, this would be so much easier if he’d put some clothes on—

The wind cracked, and with it came an ear splitting thunk that shook the house and removed her from her lustful reverie, causing her to jump nearly right out of her skin.

“Just the trees along the side of the house,” he murmured, turning his head to look out the window. “Which should have been trimmed.” He turned on another light, and…and her brain stuttered to a halt as her eyes ate him up. It was like an opened bag of chips, she couldn’t stop herself.

“It’s getting bad out there,” he said, shifting back to her, his gaze searching her face. “Are you okay?” he repeated.

Oh, man. Man, oh, man. He’d changed, too. He was far quieter, far more intense.

And the most devastating—kind. When had that happened?

She came up to his shoulder. Which meant that her face was right at pec level, and now there was so much light…Don’t look, she ordered herself. Don’t—

She looked. And when her gaze dropped, so did her IQ. She couldn’t help it, he was just so perfectly made.

He put a finger under her chin and lifted it up. Right. He’d asked her a question. Was she okay? A question that brought her firmly back to the present. And the present was looking tricky. No Dustin meant no SUV, and no SUV meant she’d have to go it alone, and that wasn’t going to be easy. “I’m fine. I’m just worried about Cece. It’s probably nothing but I just want to go check on her.”

“Cece,” he said. “Your sister? Troublemaker Cece?”

He remembered. Damn. He was hot and sharp, which just didn’t seem like a fair distribution of gifts. “She called me last night at work. She said she was fine, no contractions or anything, but now I can’t get a hold of her, and—”

His eyes widened. “She’s pregnant?”

“Yes. And her cell phone is off. I’m thinking she evacuated, that it’s okay, I just need to get a damn life,” she said with a self-conscious laugh. “She’s growing up and moving on, and I need to do the same, but I just can’t go to higher ground and relax until I’m sure.” Because a very small part of her couldn’t trust her sister to do it, even though she should be able to.

It was asinine. “I can’t get to Eastside in my car. I was hoping to borrow Dustin’s SUV.”

“Okay.” Jason shoved his fingers through his hair and let out a breath, the movement of his arms stretching and flexing all sorts of muscles that pretty much made her mouth dry up. “Where’s her husband?”

“There is no husband. The father of her baby ran so fast her head is still spinning. I’d really hoped to find Dustin here.”

“I’ll have to do.”

In truth, he looked a lot like his much kinder, gentler brother. He had dark hair, cut military short. Like Dustin, he had light gray steely eyes that she knew could be warm and playful, or cut like steel.

But unlike Dustin, Jason had an edge, which had only sharpened over time, from his intense gaze to his physique, honed by the military.

“I have a Jeep,” he said. “I’ll take you to her.”

“You?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He considered her a moment, bemused as he ran a hand down his stubbled jaw. “Because you need a ride?” At her obvious surprise he shook his head. “Jesus, was I that big of an ass?”

She didn’t want to go there. No way. “All I need is to borrow your Jeep.”

“Ah. So you don’t need me. Duly noted. But the Jeep and I are a package deal. Take it or leave it.” His smile was tight, and went tighter when her cell phone rang and she pounced on it rather than respond to him.

“Hey,” Cristina said. “How goes it?”

“I’m going to go check on Cece.”

“Not in this. We were all called in on emergency shifts it’s so bad out there.”

“I just want to make sure she got out.”

“Not by yourself.”

“Not exactly.” Lizzy glanced at Jason, who was standing where she’d left him, still gloriously half-naked, watching her. “I’ve got Jason.”

He smiled grimly, and nodded his approval of her choice.

“Dustin’s Jason?” Cristina asked, letting out a low whistle. “Nice. The guy’s a virtual search and rescue team all on his own. But…”

“But what?”

“He’s…had a rough few months.”

“He looks okay.”

He arched a brow in her direction.

More than okay…

“Honey, he looks hot,” Cristina corrected with characteristic bluntness and a laugh.

Feeling her face heat, Lizzy turned away from Jason’s probing eyes. “I don’t see how that’s pertinent.”

“Then you must have failed Chem 101. It’s too bad you have that whole penis embargo going. You going to be able to resist?”

Lizzy risked a look over her shoulder. Jason had leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. Calm and steady.

Look at him, so absolutely at ease in his own skin. She grounded her back teeth together. “Not a problem.”

Cristina laughed softly. “Yeah, good luck with that. Call me.”

“I will.” She slipped her phone into her pocket.

Jason remained silent, his feelings carefully shielded. She had no doubt that he’d be an incredible asset to her out there in the storm, but unfortunately, he was far too dangerous to her mental health. “I want to thank you for offering to help. I appreciate it, but I can do this alone.”

He shook his head, annoyance crossing his features. “You always were stubborn as a—”

“Hey.”

“—mule,” he finished sweetly. As if he was sweet!

“You just got in town,” she said, lifting her chin. “I don’t want to take up your time.” Or hers, staring at his half-naked bod…

He pushed away from the wall. “All I was doing was sleeping. You’re going to need help, Lizzy.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Really? So you know how to drive in weather like this, or how to cross a flooded street? How to get into a flooded building? How to get a pregnant woman out of a flooded building?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“I’m going with you.”

This was such a bad idea. “Jason—”

“The words are thank you.”

“Fine. Thank you.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard.” In the old days, he might have added a suggestive smile, a few teasing words, anything to make her blush or stammer or act like an idiot—which she’d done more times than she cared to remember.

But there was none of that now. No mockery. No triumph.

Nothing.

“You asked me if I was okay,” she said slowly. “But I feel like I should ask you. Are you—”

“Terrific.” He turned away as the house shuddered under the cruel weight of the wind. “Listen, if we’re going to do this, we should get moving.”

“You think it’s going to get worse?”

“Yeah, I do. They’re calling for two feet of rain.”

“But flooding? Here in Santa Rey?”

“Flash floods can happen anywhere. I should know, I’ve seen just about every one of them here in the U.S. in the past twelve years.” Once again he eyed her scrubs. “You’re not dressed for this.”

“No, I came from work. I’m a nurse in the E.R.”

“Why aren’t you a doctor?”

“Long story.”

“How about the Cliff’s Notes version?”

The Cliff’s Notes version was that the world had kicked her ass. Period. She could tell him so, but she didn’t like to admit it out loud. “It’s not important now.” Especially since she still had that dream out in front of her, starting this fall, when she’d enroll in UCLA medical school.

He looked as if maybe he wanted to press the issue, but in the end he simply said, “Do you have a medical bag with you? In case Cece’s in labor?”

“As of last night, she wasn’t, but yes, I do. In my car.”

“And food?”

“Maybe a protein bar or two. Why?”

“Because I’m starving.” He crouched before a large duffel bag on the floor, which he began rifling through.

She stared at the sleek, smooth muscles in his back, wondering what had happened in the military to erase the happy-go-lucky jock she’d once known. Back then she’d spent hours and hours going over all the what-ifs when it came to him. What if he noticed her? What if he realized she was the woman of his dreams?

What if…

She’d gotten a lot of mileage out of it all, especially in the deep dark of the night. But in the face of his calm, steady assertiveness, all those what-ifs seemed so very long ago and so very childish. She had only one what-if right now, and that was what if Cece wasn’t okay? “You’re really going to take me over there.”

“As opposed to sitting on my ass when I know you’re worried? Yes, Lizzy, I am.”

Okay, now she’d insulted him. Interesting that she could.

She really wished Dustin had been here, Dustin who was so easygoing and laid-back and sweet…“Cristina said your brother’s at work.”

“Then you really are stuck with me, aren’t you.” Rising with a pair of jeans in his hand, he settled his calm, quiet eyes on her as his long fingers pulled up the denim. The act seemed shockingly intimate.

Ridiculously so, given that he’d just been standing there in far less. The jeans were loose and clearly beloved old friends, sinking low on his hips as he began to button them up. Stopping halfway, he slid his hand inside to…adjust, and as she watched, she felt her face heat. “I’ll just…” What? She had no idea so she stood there like an idiot, tongue practically hanging out.

“You’ll…?”

“No idea,” she whispered, giving up.

Seeming amused as he finished buttoning, he gave her a glimpse of the younger Jason she’d once known.

Again the house shuddered, and she braced. The sound of the driving rain was relentless as he pulled a T-shirt on over that torso, which could have been on the cover of any fitness magazine. He added an old hooded sweatshirt to his ensemble, then crouched again to dig through his bag for socks.

Then he turned and eyed her scrubs.

She knew they were unflattering, not to mention wet from her dash from the car, and clinging to her. “Those won’t work,” he said, and tossed her some clothes. “These are dry.”

She caught them to her. “I’m not going to take your things.”

“Yes, you are,” he said in the quiet authoritative voice he probably used on the job and had people jumping to obey him.

But it didn’t move her to follow his order as much as it…excited her. Yes, she was that badly off that a quiet, confident, masculine voice could excite her.

She really needed to get sex more often. Too bad she tended to self-destruct her relationships. She looked out the window. Daylight was trying valiantly to break through. The rain was still coming down so thickly it looked like a virtual sheet of water pouring from the sky. “Changing isn’t going to help for long.”

“You’re shivering.” He also tossed over a set of rain gear. “You won’t be any good to me out there if you’re not at least warm.”

She wouldn’t be any good to him? “Okay, now just a minute. I—”

“Your sister isn’t the only one who might be in trouble, Lizzy. I can guarantee it. We might run into people out there who need our help. You’re going to want to be able to give it. Where exactly does Cece live?”

“Third and Cove. Problem is they’re evacuating Eastside because the flooding is already bad.”

“Then we need to hurry.” He straightened and looked at her. Waiting.

Oh, no. No, no, no. Hell to the no was she was going to change right here in front of him. Sure, there’d been all those times when she’d secretly—very secretly—dreamed about such things, but those days were long gone.

So long gone.

This man, with his steely, unreadable eyes and grim mouth, with his big, tough body braced for whatever came his way, wasn’t the stuff of girlhood dreams.

He was all man.

Complicated, edgy man, and no longer someone she fantasized about.

And maybe if she kept saying that, she’d believe it. “Fine. I’ll change.”

At that, he gave her his full attention, his entire body emitting so much testosterone she could hardly lock her knees. “Not right here, of course,” she corrected coolly, and stiffening her traitorous knees, she stepped around him, heading down the hall to his bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

She forced herself to shake off the sensual haze and turned to stare at herself in the mirror, sucking in a breath at the sight that greeted her.

Flushed cheeks.

Glassy eyes.

“Stop it,” she whispered, and quickly locked the bathroom door, not letting herself wonder who exactly she was locking it against—her or him.

Chapter Three

JASON WATCHED HER GO and let out a long breath. He couldn’t believe it. Shy, carefully controlled Lizzy Mann, with the sweet-smelling brunette hair, and those melting chocolate eyes, the ones that had once revealed everything she thought every time she thought it, here in his house.

When they’d been young, she’d been a danger to herself for no reason other than he always knew exactly how she felt about everything: school, life, him.

But she’d be a danger to him now, because they were adults, and incredibly enough there was something there between them, something undeniable. Actually, it’d always been there, and it had nothing at all to do with her sweet, curvy body.

Okay, it had a lot to do with that curvy body, but it was more, far more. Once upon a time she’d stimulated his brain, and she’d been the first girl to do so.

And now she was no girl.

Which was bad timing all around, because since Matt’s death, he’d been pretty screwed up and wasn’t ready for a relationship. Hell, he wasn’t ready for real life. He had no idea what he wanted anymore, or even what was important to him.

Not with the damn rug yanked out from beneath his feet.

A gust of wind hit the house with what felt like a battering ram, immediately followed by the sound of glass shattering, and a short, startled scream. He whipped down the hallway just as the lights flickered once and went out. “Lizzy?”

The bathroom door opened as he craned his neck to see the broken glass, which had come from the bedroom across the hall. The window directly over his bed had blown in.

“It just scared me,” she said, following his gaze. “Sorry.”

With the driving rain the only sound around them, he suddenly became aware he’d pulled her to his side.

It’d been instinctive to do so, simply about concern, but that was draining quickly, replaced by something else entirely as his hand slowly moved up and down her arm.

Adrenaline. It was churning inside him now because of the blown window. Hell, it was still in him from his last mission.

From coming home again.

From being awoken after his first deep sleep in…forever.

From losing Matt.

It’d been a long time since he’d touched a woman, held one. Since someone had touched him in return.

Too long.

Knowing it, knowing damn well he was treading on thin ice, he bent his head for the simple pleasure of rubbing his jaw against hers.

She swallowed hard and, against his chest, he felt her hand settle, then slowly fist into his sweatshirt, not to push him away but to pull him in even tighter as she shivered.

“You’re cold,” he whispered, skimming both hands up her slim spine now.

“No. Not cold.”

God. God, he wanted…

This.

Her.

More.

Then her focus dropped to his mouth, and her lips parted, and that was all he needed. The sign that she felt it, too, this crazy heat. She wanted him to kiss her.

With that his only thought, he leaned in and did just that, all coherent thought going out the broken window as she opened her mouth beneath his and tentatively, sweetly, hesitantly, met his tongue with hers. It made him groan in sheer pleasure because, God, her mouth. She might have grown up and toughened up on the outside, but on the inside she was still soft and sweet, still just a little shy.

He’d take that, he’d take all she wanted to give and to that end, he cupped her head in one palm, running his other hand down her back to nudge her even closer. She crawled right in, right up against him as if made for the spot, accompanying the movement with a little purr from deep in her throat. He loved the way she didn’t keep her hands to herself, loved how they ran up his arms, over his chest, around his neck and into his hair.

Loved.

It.

But then more glass fell from the bedroom windowpane, flying into the room, the hallway, hitting the floor around them with a musical tinkling sound that had them tearing free of each other.

Breathing almost harder than the wind outside, she stared up at him, mouth wet, eyes wide. “What was that?”

“A damn good kiss.” He expected her to pull clear, but she surprised him when instead, she leaned back in and pressed her face to his throat. Not breathing any more steadily than she, he wrapped her up in his arms again, cupping the bare nape of her neck. Indulging himself, he bent his head and inhaled her in.

“Are you…smelling my hair?”

“Yes.” He did it again, drawing in her scent. “God, you smell amazing. I’ve smelled nothing but dust and other guys for so long I just want to wrap myself up in you.” But the house was taking a beating. He needed to cover up the window openings to prevent more damage…

“Do you have a sheet of plywood for that window?”

“I hope so.” The tree just outside his bedroom was whipping back and forth, dangerously close to the blown-in window. Glass shards lay across the bed, on top of the sheets and blankets where he’d been only a few minutes ago. “Good thing you woke me up.”

“You were sleeping there?” Lizzy asked, sounding horrified as she pulled free.

“Yeah.” He shut the bedroom door, closing off the wind and rain freely flying in, and looked at her.

Her hair had been demurely pulled back into a low ponytail when she’d first arrived, but was loose now. The dark honey strands fell to her shoulders, with long side swept bangs framing her face.

Her mouth was still wet.

Which made him want to kiss her again. Forget the storm beating the shit out of his house, forget Cece out there in it—

Okay, he couldn’t forget that. He needed to get his mind off the fantasy currently running in high def in his head, the one that had him pushing Lizzy to the wall and kissing her again until she didn’t look so worried, and then taking that kiss to its natural course, which involved no clothes and her crying out his name as she came.

But life was rarely that good to him.

So he turned her back to the bathroom door, where the only window was narrow and high up inside the shower. “Change. I’m going to the garage to look for plywood.”

“The electricity is out.”

“Yeah, it’s probably going to stay out for a good long time, too.” What the hell. He slid his fingers into her hair again, smoothing it back off her face for the sheer pleasure of feeling her warm skin beneath his palm.

She caught his hand in hers. “Before,” she said. “When I screamed? You came running.”

He looked into her eyes, and there was a long beat between them, where the icy air didn’t seem cold at all but rather shimmering with heat.

The heat coming from them.

He’d survived the past two months by putting aside emotions and feelings. It was a tactic that had served him well.

But he was feeling now, big-time.

“I slay my own dragons these days, Jason,” she said softly, and went back into the bathroom.

At the sound of the lock hitting home, he smiled grimly. She didn’t need him. Message received.

He found no plywood in the garage, which meant that the room was going to be a wreck before this was over. Hoping that would be the extent of the damage, he came back into the kitchen and took another food foray. This time, in the dubious light of the morning, he found a box of crackers and Cheez Whiz.

Worked for him.

Loading up crackers and stuffing them into his mouth, he called his mom. She answered on the first ring, breathless and excited. “My baby! Honey, are you back?”

“Yeah.” At the sound of her love practically pouring through the phone line, he let out a breath and a reluctant smile. “You okay?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m fine. Tell me you’re coming here so I can fatten you up and see for myself you’re in one piece.”

“I’m in one piece.”

“Are you sure? Because the last time we talked, you were in such a bad place—”

That had been right after Matt’s death. He’d been a mess. “Mom.” He paused, his throat tightening. “I’m good.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. When will I see you?”

“Soon as this storm is over. Is Shelly okay? The house? You both safe?”

“We aren’t flooding, we’re both staying put, and we’re fine. I love you, Jason.”

“Love you, too, Mom.”

“Prove it and get up here as soon as you can.”

He promised to do that and shut his phone, resuming the stuffing of his face with the crackers and Cheez Whiz until Lizzy came into the room.

He still couldn’t wrap his brain around it. She’d once had a way of looking at him, of seeing things in him that had made him uncomfortable, to say the least. He hadn’t liked looking into those sweet orbs and seeing himself reflected back, because he’d never liked what he’d seen.

Of course she was no longer looking at him the way she used to. She’d learned to temper her emotions. And she’d gotten good at it, too, because she was staring right at him and he had absolutely no idea what she was thinking.

She wore his sweats, which swam on her. Covered from chin to toe, she was now shapeless, which was good. Now maybe he could forget how she’d looked when he’d first flicked on the light, when her thin scrubs had been drenched through and clinging to her curves. “Warmer?” he asked.

“Yes. Thanks.” She narrowed in on the jar in his hand. “Breakfast of champions?”

He turned the jar in his palm and read the ingredients. “Hey, it’s got five percent of my daily required protein. Practically a vitamin.”

She actually smiled, and whoa baby, that was new. He hadn’t seen many smiles out of her in their high school years. She’d been too shy, too reserved. The smile transformed her face, and while he stared stupidly at her, she came close and read over his shoulder. “It’s ninety-five percent fat, Jase.”

Jase. No one had called him that since…well, since her, and he laughed, his first in a good long time. “Ready to roll?” “Yeah. Listen—” She broke off to glance over his shoulder, at the window above the sink, and her entire body went tense. “Move!” she cried, adding a shove packed with surprising strength for a little thing, taking them both down to the tile floor with a bone-jarring thud.

Above them the kitchen window shattered, spraying in glass and wind and water, all of which rained down over the top of them.

Jason managed not to bash his head on the floor as he circled his arms around Lizzy, trying to cushion her fall but not quite succeeding. Lying there flat on his back with her sprawled over the top of him, he tightened his grip when she gasped and wriggled. “Don’t move,” he demanded. “The glass.” He slid his fingers into her hair and stared up at her, searching her face. “Are you okay?”

She craned her neck to look behind them, where he’d been standing, where the majority of the glass had hit. Rain was flying in freely now, pushed by the brutal wind. The branch that had broken the window shimmied and danced in the opening. “That almost got you,” she breathed.

“Well, it didn’t, thanks to you.” He turned her head back to his. “And do you ever answer a question?”

“I’m fine. And you’re not,” she said, pointing to where blood was blooming through the material of his shirt from a slice on his upper arm. She started to push herself up but her grimace tipped him off and he held her still, reaching for her hand, which was also cut.

He sat up, which meant that she was sitting, too, straddling him. In the back of his mind he registered the fact that it was a very nice position to be in as he ran his gaze over her carefully, looking for—“Damn.” Another cut. Gently he ran a finger over her cheekbone, which was beginning to bleed. “Just a nick, though.”

“I’m okay.” Using nothing but thigh muscles, she stood, then reached down with her uninjured hand to pull him up. Very carefully she brushed the glass from him, until he grabbed her wrist and moved them both from the shattered window, back into the living room. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the couch, going for his first-aid kit from his bag.

“I will if you will.”

“So you’re still stubborn,” he noted, amused at both of them.

“As a mule. And I’m the nurse, remember?” She grabbed the first-aid kit from him as he sat next to her.

“I’m a trained medic.” He grabbed it back, holding it over her head.

“So, what, brute strength trumps brains?”

“Look at you,” he murmured. “You’ve grown claws. I’m so proud.”

“I call it a backbone.”

His smile faded. “Ah, Lizzy. You always had that.”

And while she stared at him in surprise, he got to work cleaning, gauzing and wrapping up her palm with medical tape. He swiped her cheek with antiseptic, then let her repeat the favor on him.

“If we’re done playing doctor…” she murmured when she’d finished.

He had no idea what it said about him that he loved this new version of her, all tough and no longer so reserved. Once upon a time she’d stirred protectiveness and affection within him, and definitely the normal horniness of a teenage boy. All of which he’d hidden.

The woman she’d grown into stirred a hell of a lot more. But what shocked him was that he didn’t feel like hiding from any of it.

“What are you grinning about?” she asked.

Other than he had his first hard-on in eight weeks? “I like this Lizzy.”

“You don’t know this Lizzy.”

True. But as he looked out the window into the sheer destruction of the day, he had a feeling he was going to get to know her pretty quickly. “I knew you once.”

“For a minute.”

“Longer than that,” he chided gently. “We were friends.”

She laughed. “Friends? We weren’t friends, Jason. I did your English papers, and you…”

“I…?”

“You were a jerk.”

“Not all the time.”

“All the time.”

“Come on. What about the day I taught you to kiss after that idiot Paul Drucker said you kissed like a poodle?”

“I try not to remember that day,” she said bitterly.

“I don’t know. It was a pretty good day for me.”

She turned away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“About which, the fact that we kissed behind the bleachers until you had it right? Or how afterward, you—”

She sent him a glacial glance over her shoulder. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” She paused, then let out a sigh. “But thanks for teaching me how to kiss.”

“You are most welcome.”

“You know…” She narrowed her eyes. “Now that I think about it, the whole teaching process took a lot longer than it should have.”

“Did it?”

“Yes.”

He smiled. “You kissed like heaven, Lizzy, from the get-go. Paul was an idiot and an ass.”

“So you only pretended I needed kissing tutoring? Why?”

“Hello, I was seventeen.”

With an annoyed sound, she walked away.

Yeah, he’d been an ass, but only because of what had happened next, the thing she didn’t want to talk about, and for the first time in all these years, he remembered, and felt regret. “Lizzy—”

“I’m going.”

“We’ve been through this. If you go, I go.”

“I’m sure you had other plans today.”

“Yeah,” he agreed readily enough. “I had a whole list—sleep, food and sex.” He smiled tightly. “Not that I was going to get any of that. There’s nothing good to eat here, and as it’s just me, sex wouldn’t be much fun.”

She looked at him. “Is this what you do in the Guard?” she asked. “Rescue people?”

“A lot, yeah.” Or in the case of Matt, not.

“Are you going back to it?”

“That seems to be the million-dollar question.”

She let out a half smile, full of sympathy. “Still decompressing?”

“Yeah.” More than she could possibly know, and it was a reminder, a cold slap of hard reality that he had decisions to make for a future he didn’t want to face. So it was him who turned away this time, needing to break eye contact, needing to not let her in his head.

She was quiet as he bent to put on his shoes. “When we had the big fires here last year, I worked four straight days without much more than a few catnaps. My entire life was the E.R., treating the firefighters, the victims, and when I finally got off duty and out into the parking lot where I’d left my car, I had the weirdest thing happen.”

He straightened. “What?”

“I broke down.” She lifted a shoulder. “I just sat on the curb and cried like a baby for half an hour. I have no idea why.”

He could picture it. Hell, he’d lived it. “That was sheer exhaustion, Lizzy.”

“Yes. After only four days of hell.”

Knowing where she was going with this, he shook his head. “Don’t.”

She walked toward him. “I have to.” Her gaze touched over each of his features, feeling like a caress. “I felt that way after only four days of adrenaline and fear and craziness, so I can only imagine what it’s like for you after years.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Very fine.”

Her words made him want to smile but he held back because she didn’t stop moving until they were toe to toe, until she’d once again put a hand on his chest.

Clearly she wasn’t finished with hacking at his hard-earned self-control.

“I’m sure there’s a transition period,” she said very quietly, giving him something he hadn’t had any of and didn’t want because it ripped at that control more than anything else could—sympathy. “Between what you’ve been doing, and being here…” Her hand slid over his chest until she laid her palm right over his heart, which was not nearly as steady as he’d have liked. “I imagine there’s a disconnect. A gap.”

She had no idea. “The size of the equator,” he agreed, not thrilled that his voice came out low and hoarse.

She was quiet another moment, then reached for his hand. “Don’t worry, Jase, I’m sure it’ll come to you, what you want to do.”

Well, he was glad she was sure. Because he wasn’t.

The moment broken, she dropped her hands from him and turned away.

He slipped into his rain gear while she did the same. He put two first-aids kits inside his backpack and shouldered it.

“Two?” she asked.

“Who knows what we’ll need.”

“There’s only a couple of inches so far.”

“Yeah, but even one inch in the wrong place can cause flash flooding, which can bring walls of water ten to twenty feet high. Trust me, there’s a whole town out there thinking this is no big deal, but it can turn into one in seconds. Plus, if we find Cece and she’s in labor—”

“When.” Her voice was unyielding as she corrected him. “When we find her.”

“If she’s out there,” he promised, “we’ll find her.”

“Yeah.” She broke eye contact, getting busy with adjusting her rain poncho.

Reaching out, he lifted her chin, ran the pad of his thumb over the cut on her cheek. “We’ll find her.”

She nodded, hugging herself in all those layers. He had to work hard not to add his arms to the mix. He’d come here wanting to feel nothing, but look at him, feeling emotions all over the place. Shaking his head at himself, he opened the door and, as the wind and rain drafted in, reached for her hand.

“Jason?”

“Yeah?”

She looked up into his eyes. “Thank you.”

He took in the craziness of the storm. Power lines down. Trees doubled over. Several inches of rain sloshing at the curbs. A flash of Matt’s face came to him, and his gut tightened. “Don’t thank me yet.”

Chapter Four

CECE MANN PACED THROUGH the contraction. Miraculously, it was her first real pain, meaning it was the first one to make her want to twist some guy’s nuts off.

Actually, make that every guy’s nuts off.

Not so miraculously, she didn’t like this whole labor business, not one little bit. “Okay,” she said to her belly, rubbing the insidious tightness swirling through her gut. “I need you to give me a little more time. Can you do that, hold on for your momma? Please?”

The pain actually faded, and she let out a breath. “Thank you. Because I promised your aunt Lizzy we weren’t in labor yet, so let’s just keep that promise, okay?”

She’d read in one of the hundred books that Lizzy had brought her that even once her water broke she still had twenty-four hours before things went wrong.

That hadn’t happened yet so that was good. “Real good,” she whispered, with no idea if she was talking to herself or the baby, but she thought, hoped, if she said it out loud, it would make it so.

She moved to the window of the second floor of the small condo she’d rented a few months ago—her first true sign of independence. Every day the place gave her a sense of panic—the expenses were a weight about as heavy as the baby—and also a glorious, heady sense of pride. She was making it, on her own…

She looked out into the wildest weather she’d ever seen, and had a moment before she reverted and wished her sister was here. Lizzy would know what to do. She always knew what to do. She was Cece’s lifeline, and had been nearly all her life.

She’d come, Cece knew, assuring herself, even though she’d told her not to. Lizzy would come when she got off work, and being as bossy as she was, she’d probably demand they go straight to the hospital.

Which might actually be a good idea. She had a feeling it was time. All she needed was a ride. If she had a neighbor she trusted, that’d be one thing. But she’d never been good with trust. Unless it was a gorgeous guy. Those she’d trusted too easily, and look where that had gotten her.

The next pain hit her unawares and left her reeling. “Oh, shit,” she whispered. This was going to suck golf balls, and forget being a grown-up, she wanted Lizzy. She tried calling her again, to admit that maybe she was in labor, but her damn cell phone went dead.

And she had no electricity to charge it.

Oh, God.

Screw not trusting a neighbor, she needed one. Problem was, the condo on her right was empty and for sale. She’d known someone had just bought the condo on her left, but she hadn’t yet seen any sign of life. She imagined waddling over there, knocking, then greeting whoever answered with, “Hi, there. Ever delivered a baby before?”