Flashback. Jill Shalvis

not to mention the complete and utter chaos around them, there was no way she could see him clearly. Still, he had to admit it stung. “It’s me, Aidan. Hold your breath now, on my count.”

      “Aidan, my God.”

      “Ready?”

      “The boat’s going to go, every inch of it, isn’t it?”

      Yep, including the few square inches they were standing on. In fact, it was going to go much more quickly than he’d have liked. Since they couldn’t get to the dock, it was into the ocean for them, where they’d wait for rescue.

      “No,” she said, shaking her head. “There’s got to be another way.”

      Unfortunately there wasn’t, and he quickly stripped out of his jacket and gear because the protection they offered wouldn’t be worth the seventy-five pounds of extra weight while treading water and holding up Kenzie to boot. At least she was conscious. She didn’t appear to have on any shoes, or anything particularly heavy on her person, all of which were points in her favor.“Onthree,okay?Remembertoholdyourbreath.”

      “I don’t think—”

      “Perfect. Go with that. One—” He nudged her in front of him, pushing her to the railing.

      “Aidan—”

      “Two—”

       “Are you crazy?”

       “Three.”

      “Hell, no. I’m not going into the—”

      He dropped her into the water, and she screamed all the way down.

       Chapter 2

      KENZIE HIT THE ICY OCEAN, and as she took in a huge mouthful of water, she realized she’d forgotten to hold her breath, a thought that was completely eradicated when Blake’s Girl exploded into the early dawn.

      In the brilliant kaleidoscope, she barely registered the splash next to her, or the two strong arms that came around her, supporting her as flying pieces of burning debris hit the water all around them.

      Aidan. My God, Aidan…That it was him boggled her mind. She tried to remind him that she could swim on her own, but the shock of the cold water sapped both her voice and the air in her lungs, and also hampered the working of her brain.

      She’d never experienced anything like it. Never in her life had she been so hot and so frozen at the same time. The heat came from the flames, so high above them now that she was in the water, but no less terrifying. And yet, an icy cold had taken over her limbs, making movement all but impossible, weighing her down, sitting on her chest, sucking the last of the precious air from her overtaxed lungs.

      Someone was screaming, and Kenzie envied their ability to draw air into their lungs because her own felt as constricted as if she had a boa slowly squeezing the life out of her.

      The scream came again.

       Huh?

      It sounded sort of like her.

      And then she realized, as if from a great distance, that it was her screaming, which meant that somehow she was breathing. Okay, that was good. So was the man holding her in the water, tucking her head against him, shielding her from the pieces falling out of the sky at his own risk. Without him, she’d have gone down like a heavy stone and she knew it.

      “Shh,” he was murmuring. “I’ve got you. It’s okay, Kenzie, it’s going to be okay…”

      She was hurt, but not so hurt as to stop the memories bombarding her at the sound of his voice. How could she not have instantly recognized him?

      He was the first man who’d ever broken her heart.

      He’d ditched his helmet and she could see his face now. He didn’t look happy to see her, and honestly, on that point, if he hadn’t been saving her sorry ass, they’d have been perfectly in sync. “Aidan.” She could see the fire reflected in his eyes. Blake’s Girl was really blazing now. “My God, we almost—”

      “I know.” His short, dark hair was plastered to his head. Water ran in rivulets down his face, which was starkly pale. His long, inky-black eyelashes were spiky, and he had a cut above one eyebrow that was oozing blood. In spite of all of that, she had the most ridiculous thought: wow, he looked good all fierce and intense and wet.

      Aidan Donnelly, first real boyfriend. First…everything… She could hardly believe it, certainly couldn’t processit,soshecranedherneck,staringattheboatthat looked like one big firecracker. “It just blew, and I—”

      “Kenzie—”

      “—I mean one minute I’m sitting there missing my brother, and the next…”

      He looked into her eyes, his cool and composed. “It’s going to be okay, but I need you to—”

      “And it blew. I was just sitting there, surrounded by his things, missing him, and then boom. My Choos are probably halfway to China by now. I really liked those Choos.”

      “Kenzie,” he said in a tone of authoritative calm. “I need you to listen to me now. Can you do that?”

      She could take a gulp of air. But listening? The jury was still out on that one. Her ears were ringing. And the water was so damn cold. In fact, she was shaking and hadn’t even realized it, shudders that wracked her entire body and rattled her teeth.

      “Hold onto me, Kenzie. That’s all you have to do, okay? Just hold onto me.”

      Right. Hold onto him. She’d grown up here in Santa Rey, and once upon a time she’d held onto him plenty. She’d held onto him, laughed with him, slept with him…

      Actually, there’d never been much sleeping involved between them, a thought which brought an avalanche of others. Him fresh out of the firefighters’ academy and possessing a body that had made her drool, not to mention the knowledge of how to use that body to make hers go wild…

      But that had been what, six years ago? Hell, she could barely think, much else handle any math at the moment, so she couldn’t be sure.

      He was towing her out, away from the boat and any danger of falling debris, while shouting something to two firefighters on the other side of the burning vessel, both of whom had hoses on the fire.

      She’d been in a fire before. On the set of her soap opera, Hope’s Passion, before it’d been cancelled. But that was under carefully controlled circumstances. This wasn’t a TV show with lines for her to follow. This was the real thing, with no makeup department standing by to color in pretend injuries, dammit.

      She’d have loved a script right about now, with a happy ending, please.

      At least she was still breathing.

      Hard to beat that.

      Blake’s Girl hadn’t gotten so lucky.

      Neither had Blake. Oh, yeah, there was the familiar rush of pain, slicing right through the numbness from the cold water, lancing her heart—the pain that had been with her since she’d learned Blake was dead. Making it worse, adding confusion and anger to her grief was the fact that he’d been accused of being an arsonist and murderer.

       God, Blake…

      Another chunk of burning debris fell from the still flaming boat, and she imagined it was something of Blake’s, something she’d never see again. Or maybe it was her own suitcase, or her laptop, which wasn’t a big loss in the scheme of things, but it held the scripts she’d been writing…

      At least if she died, she would no longer be a freshly unemployed soap star.

      It was so damn ironic—she’d never been able to come home when Blake had been alive because