The Pregnancy Plot. Carol Ericson

catch their color from here, but they glittered dangerously.

      “Who told you that?”

      “Maisie—the woman at my motel.” He’d led Maisie on, but she would at least verify that they’d had a conversation about how the owner of Moonstones might need help repairing the place. “I’m new on the island. I came here to do some writing, but I also need to earn some cash.”

      “Maisie, huh?” The gun slipped a little and she tapped the toe of her sneaker on the sandy ground. “I can check out your story.”

      “Go right ahead.” He waved his hands in the air. “Can I put my arms down now?”

      She loosened her grip on the shotgun and pinned it against her side. “I could use some help around here, but I fully intend to check you out.”

      “I thought Break Island was one of those friendly, small-town places.” He cocked his head. “Didn’t realize you could get shot going up to someone’s front door.”

      “You didn’t go up to my front door.” She tipped her chin toward him. “You came around here to the side.”

      He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I was admiring the deck and the fire pit, or at least admiring what it could be.”

      She ran her tongue along her lower lip, her shoulders still rigid. “Yeah, I plan to fix that up...eventually.”

      He hadn’t expected Nina to be on edge, unless she always greeted strangers with a shotgun. Had someone attempted to contact her already? What did she know about her ex-fiancé’s disappearance?

      “I can help you with that.” He cleared his throat as his gaze swept across her lean frame, no baby bump in sight. He’d have to pretend he knew nothing of her pregnancy. “I’ll be on the island for a while, and I need some gainful employment.”

      “What do you write?”

      Shoving his hands into his pockets, he kicked at a rock on the crumbling path. “I’m a former marine, did a few tours in Afghanistan. Thought I’d write what I know, a fictional account.”

      Her eyes widened and her fingers curled around the butt of the shotgun. “Y-you’re military?”

      “Retired.” He thought it best to stick as close to the truth as possible, but his military background bothered her—must be memories of her ex-fiancé, Simon Skinner. She had ended it with Skinner before he disappeared. Maybe they’d had a bad breakup.

      With his hands still stuffed in his pockets, he lifted his shoulders to his ears. “Just thought I had an interesting story to tell, but the book’s not a bestseller yet. Hell, the book isn’t even written yet. That’s why I need to make some money while I figure out if this story will write itself.”

      “I do have a soft spot for military men.” She blinked and rested one hand on her stomach. “My...my stepfather was in the navy.”

      And her ex-fiancé was a navy SEAL before joining Tempest as an agent...and winding up dead.

      “I hope you’ll give this vet a chance.” He swept his arm across her property. “I can help you out here.”

      She puffed a breath of air from between her lips as if she’d been holding it. “Maybe. Give me a day or two to check you out, and a couple of references wouldn’t hurt. Can’t pay you much more than minimum wage.”

      “I’ll get right on the references. Thanks.” He pointed to the purse she’d dropped on the ground next to her before leveling the gun at his head. “Were you going out?”

      “I’m going across the bay to the mainland to pick up some supplies.”

      “Can I help you?”

      “No.” She picked up the gun in her hands again and made a move toward the house.

      She hadn’t been joking about looking into his background first. A woman in her condition should be cautious and he was glad Nina was, unlike some women he knew, but she’d obviously brought her big-city paranoia to the small town.

      As she retreated to the house, he scuffed through the sand toward the front gate and left it open behind him. He clambered on top of a pile of rocks and faced the bay, his eyes watering at the sharp, cold breeze stinging his face.

      He hadn’t brought the full Bennett charm into play yet—just didn’t seem right with a pregnant woman, even though he wasn’t supposed to know she was expecting—but it looked as if it was going to be harder than he’d imagined getting close to Nina Moore.

      And for some strange reason, he’d completely changed his mind about this assignment after meeting his quarry. He couldn’t wait to get close to Nina Moore.

      * * *

      NINA LOCKED THE FRONT door behind her and cursed the weeds as she slogged through them to the sagging gate. Her pulse jumped as she spied Jase on the rocks in front of the property next door. Was he waiting for her?

      She’d felt such a connection to him the moment he’d turned and faced her shotgun. He had a quality that reminded her of Simon—not his looks. Simon was a good-looking guy, too, but his red hair and broad features were worlds apart from Jase’s dark intensity. Both men had an air of watchful readiness about them, as if they could spring into action at any moment.

      They also both shared a commanding presence, giving her the uneasy feeling that she’d do their bidding even at her own peril. All a man had to do was promise to lead and she’d follow him anywhere.

      Must be the pregnancy hormones making her crazy. She shook her head and tossed her ponytail over her shoulder.

      She latched the gate and veered left. Her sneakers hit the wood planks leading to the boat dock where Dad’s sixteen-foot boat bobbed in the water. Keeping one eye on Jase still peering at the bay, she started the seventy-horsepower engine. It sputtered and coughed and then rumbled to life. She aimed the boat toward the line of shore she could just make out in the distance.

      The salty breeze whipped the ponytail across her face, and she stuck out her tongue to catch the spray just because she felt like it. She glanced over her shoulder at Jase, still on the rocks, his figure getting smaller and smaller although he still loomed large in her mind.

      It must be that inner spit and polish that gave military men their bearing, leaving the impression of invincibility. That’s why Simon’s behavior had been so frightening. At first she’d pegged it as post-traumatic stress disorder and had encouraged him to visit a therapist, but he’d have none of that. The same personality traits that gave him supreme control in the face of danger also led him to an impenetrable stubbornness.

      She sighed and slightly shifted the course of the boat. If Simon ever wanted to be part of his son’s life, he’d have to get some counseling first.

      She shivered and stamped her feet—in a puddle. She looked down, gasping at the pool of water sloshing over her sneakers. The spray hadn’t been that high or wild to flood the boat—not yet anyway, although a storm was on its way down from Alaska.

      She skimmed the toe of her wet shoe across the bottom of the boat and more water gushed in. Bending over, she ran her fingers across the fiberglass surface, her tips tripping over the edge of some electrical tape.

      “Are you kidding me?” She peeled back the tape, exposing a hole in the fiberglass the size of a quarter and getting bigger as more water gurgled into the boat.

      She rose, jerking her head toward the mainland and then toward the island. Faster to go back.

      She eased into a turn and started chugging back to Break Island. The boat lurched and listed as it took on more water the faster she went. When the water got ankle-high, she slowed the boat and tried to bail out with a bucket.

      When the left stern started to dip, she abandoned the idea of a bailout and eyed the shoreline of the island. Even if she could swim that distance with her clothes dragging her down, the water