Storm Watch. Jill Shalvis

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,”