CAROL ERICSON lives with her husband and two sons in Southern California, home of state-of-the-art cosmetic surgery, wild freeway chases and a million amazing stories. These stories, along with hordes of virile men and feisty women, clamor for release from Carol’s head. It makes for some interesting headaches until she sets them free to fulfill their destinies and her readers’ fantasies. To learn more about Carol, please visit her website, www.carolericson.com, “Where romance flirts with danger.”

MILLS & BOON

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For the LA women (and men) of the Los Angeles Romance Authors (LARA)

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

Extract

Chapter One

The nurse handed her the blurry picture of her baby boy, and Nina tilted her head to the side, trying to figure out if the white, fuzzy appendage in the upper-right corner of the photo represented a foot or an arm. At just about eighteen weeks that appendage could be anything—even that which distinguished him as a boy.

The nurse smiled and flicked the edge of the ultrasound. “Well, at least if his father can’t be here, you can send him his son’s picture.”

Nina pasted an answering smile on her face, ignoring the knife in her heart. “Yes, I’ll do that.”

If she could ever find her baby’s father.

She hadn’t wanted to get into the whole complicated story of her ex-fiancé’s disappearance off the face of the earth, so she’d just told her obstetrician that her baby’s father was in the military and was deployed. All good lies contained a bit of the truth.

“Make sure you stop by the front desk to make your next appointment.” The nurse closed the door behind her so that Nina could get dressed.

That was another issue she hadn’t discussed with her doctor yet. There wouldn’t be another appointment if she decided to pull up stakes and move to Washington.

The paper crinkled as she slid off the examination table. How had her life gotten so complicated in such a short period of time? She’d been happy with her job, happy with her fiancé and safe.

Safe? Where had that come from? She crumpled up the paper gown and shoved it into the trash can. She didn’t have to dig too deeply for the answer.

She’d been feeling uneasy ever since Simon had started blowing up at the smallest issue until his ranting and raving had gotten so severe, she’d broken off their engagement over four months ago. Then he’d dropped off her radar for good. Or had he?

She squeezed into her fat jeans, making a mental note for the hundredth time that week to shop for maternity clothes.

Since her breakup with Simon, she’d had the unsettling feeling that her ex-fiancé had been stalking her—watching her, following her. She had no evidence at all to back up that suspicion, only a creeping feeling of dread. Looking over her shoulder and checking her rearview mirror had become habits for her—habits she didn’t like.

Habits that gave her even more reason to leave LA for her family’s bed-and-breakfast up in the Puget Sound area. The TLC that place needed since her stepfather passed away would be enough to keep her occupied.

Slipping her feet into her wedges, she hooked the strap of her purse over her shoulder. She kissed the ultrasound picture of her baby and slipped it into her purse.

She breezed into the reception area. Leaning over the counter, she said, “I need to make my next appointment.”

“Of course.” The receptionist’s fingers raced across the keyboard of her computer. “Does this same time next month work for you, Nina?”

If the great Pacific Northwest hadn’t called her home by that time. Nina peered at the calendar on the phone cupped in her hand. “Yes, and Tuesday or Wednesday of that week looks good.”

“Perfect.” The receptionist checked some boxes on an appointment card and held it out between two fingers.

“Thanks.” Nina took the card and dropped it into her purse.

While she waited for the elevator that would take her down to the parking garage below the building, her cell phone buzzed. She glanced at the display and sighed.

Six months ago she’d been thrilled to land this job, designing the interior of a beach house in Malibu, but after Simon had gone AWOL and she’d found out she was pregnant, she had no patience for this demanding client.

She answered the call anyway. “Hello, Jennifer. Were the tiles delivered on time?”

“They arrived yesterday. I opened one of the boxes and I’m not so sure I like that yellow and blue.”

Of course you don’t.

The elevator doors slid open, and Nina stepped into the car, nodding at a woman holding a squirming toddler in her arms.

The woman dipped her chin while blowing a strand of hair from her face. “You need to get in your stroller now, Ben.”

How did kids even move that way? He looked like a giant worm. She placed a hand on her belly. Would her baby be wiggly like that?

“Nina? I said I don’t like the color.”

She blinked. “If we send it back, it’s going to be another two weeks, at least, before the vendor can get another shipment from Italy.”

“Two weeks? I can’t wait. Everything will be done by then.”

“You loved the colors a month ago.”

“You’re right. I’ll keep them.”

“I’ll let Fernando know the tiles are in. He and his assistant will be out tomorrow for the installation.”

She ended the call at the same time the elevator stopped at the first level of the parking structure. The woman had coaxed her son into his stroller and rolled him out the door, calling over her shoulder, “Don’t worry. It’s all worth it.”

Nina’s mouth dropped open when the doors slid shut on mother and child. Had she been sending out that silent motherhood vibe?

She shifted her weight to her other foot, vowing to swap her high, wedged heels for flats any day now. She didn’t need a psychiatrist to tell her that her refusal to switch up her clothes to accommodate her pregnancy was a form of denial. She absolutely wanted the baby, but the pregnancy had been a surprise, and coming on the heels of her breakup with Simon, it had been an overwhelming surprise.

But one she could handle, one she couldn’t wait to handle.

The doors swooshed open on her parking level and she got a whiff of exhaust fumes. She waved her hand in front of her face. She’d definitely be breathing cleaner air if she made the move from LA to Washington, but she’d be leaving her life and her friends behind.

As she headed for her car in the far corner of the parking lot, her cell buzzed again. She held her phone up to her face in the dim light of the garage and squinted at a text from Jennifer—more doubts about the yellow tile.

Pinning her purse to her body with the inside of her elbow, she used both thumbs to text Jennifer some more encouragement. She sent the text and looked up.

“Three C?” she said to herself. She’d missed her aisle.

As she backtracked, a slow-moving car on the row above caught her attention. Unlike when she’d arrived for her appointment this afternoon, the parking garage sported plenty of empty slots. No need for that car to be rolling along at such a slow speed past vacant parking spaces.

In contrast to the speed of the car, her heart rate ticked up a few notches. She turned down the aisle where she’d parked her car and moved as fast as her shoes would allow.

Holding her key fob in front of her, she clicked it over and over just to make sure the car would be unlocked when she reached it.

She glanced over her shoulder at the other car, a black sedan, now crawling down the ramp to her level. She slid out of her shoes, grabbed them with one hand and jogged toward her car.

A woman getting into her car turned to stare at her. Nina didn’t care what she looked like running to her car.

She grabbed the handle, pulled open the door and dropped onto the seat, smashing her fist against the automatic lock. The woman who’d been eyeballing her started her own car and pulled out, giving Nina full view of the end of the row.

The slow-moving sedan showed up in the aisle, and Nina cranked on her ignition. If that car decided to follow her, she’d drive straight to a police station. If the driver was Simon, he’d get the picture soon enough that, baby or no baby, she’d press charges against him for stalking if he kept up this cloak-and-dagger stuff. All he had to do was call her.

Her car’s ignition clicked, but the car didn’t start. She tried again, clenching her teeth against the grating sound coming from her car. She didn’t need car trouble now.

She cut off the unresponsive engine, took a deep breath and turned the key one more time. Again, the engine failed to turn over.

The black car had turned around on the next level and was heading back toward her again. A cold fear seized her. She didn’t know if it was Simon or someone else in that car with the tinted windows, but she sensed a powerful evil heading in her direction.

She cupped her hands over her barely discernible belly, and a surge of protectiveness rushed through her body. She removed her key from the ignition and pressed the red panic button on the remote.

Her car alarm blared alternately with her honking horn as she slid down in her seat.

With her nose just above the steering wheel, she watched the car zoom past her.

A minute later, a man and a woman were knocking on her car window.

She buzzed down the window, and the woman poked her head inside the car. “Are you okay?”

Nina’s heart slowed its gallop. “I’m fine. I...I was trying to start my car, and I hit the alarm on my remote by mistake.”

No point in revealing her emotional instability to anyone else. That’s all it was—pregnancy hormones running amok.

The woman stepped back. “We saw you slip down in your seat and thought you were having some kind of medical emergency.”

“No. I’m fine.”

The man shrugged and turned away, obviously less interested than the woman, concern still creasing her face.

“Can you start your car now?”

Nina turned the key and got the same noise. “I guess not.”

“Can you get a ride?”

The man glanced at his watch.

“I have an automobile club service. I’ll call them.” Nina popped her door handle, since she had no intention of waiting for the tow truck in this rapidly clearing parking lot.

The woman smiled. “You take care now.”

Nina slung her purse over her shoulder and trudged back to the elevator, periodically glancing over her shoulder to look out for the black sedan.

Was it just a coincidence that her car broke down at the very same time a mysterious vehicle seemed to be shadowing her in the parking structure?

Maybe, maybe not, but the scare had just sealed her fate.

She was leaving LA for Break Island, Washington, sooner rather than later.

* * *

JASE FLIPPED UP the collar of his jacket and shoved his hands into his pockets, as the ferry chugged into port. Who the hell would leave sunny Southern California for this godforsaken island in the middle of Puget Sound at this time of the year?

Crazy pregnant lady.

When Jase reached land, he ordered a cup of coffee from the window next to the ticket office. He balanced the cup on the edge of a planter and pulled out his phone.

Jack Coburn picked up on the first ring.

“Jack, I made it to Break Island. I have no idea why anyone would want to open a bed-and-breakfast on this rock. No wonder the place closed down.”

Coburn cleared his throat. “Fishing, sailing, hiking, bird-watching at the sanctuary, and ferries to Vancouver and Seattle. The Moonstones B and B didn’t close down for lack of business. Nina Moore’s mother became ill and passed away. After her mother’s death, her stepfather committed suicide.”

Coburn always did his homework. Jase had known all that about Nina Moore’s tragic history, but he’d been too busy arguing with Coburn about this babysitting job to really take note of her background. Sad stuff—and she didn’t even know about her ex-fiancé yet.

Coburn read his thoughts. “You would’ve remembered all that if you hadn’t been so intent on protesting the assignment. I need you focused, Bennett.”

“I’m on it, boss. Protect the pregnant lady.”

“We have to cover all our bases. We don’t know what’s going on right now or what to believe from Max Duvall’s crazy stories.”

“The body of Nina Moore’s fiancé hasn’t turned up yet, has it?”

“Nope.”

“Maybe he’s not even dead.”

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t change our mission.”

“Protect the pregnant lady.”

“Exactly.”

Jase ended the call and squinted through the gray haze that enveloped the small town rolling out in front of him. Maybe the pregnant lady had escaped to Break Island to hide her condition from her ex-fiancé. He snorted and snatched his coffee from the planter.

Wouldn’t be the first time a woman had tried to hide a pregnancy from a man.

He checked into a small motel in the center of town and returned to the office to get to work. He touched the bell on the counter, and the motel’s proprietor came out from the back.

“Everything okay in your room?”

“Everything’s fine.” He picked up a flyer about the island’s bird sanctuary and tucked it into his pocket. “Maisie, right?”

“That’s right.”

In true small-town fashion, Maisie had introduced herself when he checked in. “On my way in on the ferry, I noticed a B and B on the shore. It looked kind of rough but still open. Any chance the owner needs some help fixing up the place? I’m looking for a little work, and that’s right up my alley.”

“I don’t know if Nina’s looking for help, but she should be. Moonstones has been empty for a few years now and could sure use some TLC.”

“Thanks, Maisie.” He rapped his knuckles on the counter. “I think I’ll head over there and see if I can offer Nina some TLC.”

Once outside, Jase adjusted his shoulder holster beneath his blue flannel shirt. He’d fit right in with these lumberjack types.

He jogged down the steps of the motel, which sat at the end of the main street, and headed for the path that led down to the beach. He made a left turn, hugging the shoreline as he scuffed along the sandy path toward Nina’s B and B. Moonstones perched on a rocky beach on the far edge of town, along with a few other beach houses. Nina must’ve really wanted to get away from it all.

He traipsed through the sand and clambered over some rocks to get a good view of the building before approaching it.

A tangled garden spilled over the ramshackle fence that ringed the property. One blue shutter hung by a broken hinge, revealing a crack in the window. This didn’t look like a prime spot for someone expecting a baby.

But Coburn had ordered him to get close to the subject, and this ramshackle B and B offered the perfect opportunity. He wouldn’t be his grandfather’s disciple if he didn’t know his way around a hammer and nail—even though Dad had disapproved.

He shuffled through the dry sand and crossed the road to the B and B. The battered wooden gate sagged and he pushed through to the garden in the front. Using the rusty hook, he latched the gate behind him.

This place wouldn’t provide much security if someone wanted to get to Nina. He had to make sure that didn’t happen.

He veered off the overgrown walkway to the front of the B and B, slogging through the knee-high weeds, and cut a path to the corner of the building. He peered around it, taking in a deck with patio furniture stacked in the corner and a fire pit crisscrossed with charred logs.

Squinting, he could almost envision a circle of guests around a roaring fire, toasting marshmallows as the waves lapped at the dock where the boats gently bobbed. Almost.

He hooked his thumb in the front pocket of his jeans and started to turn back...but the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being readied for use stopped him in his tracks.

Chapter Two

His adrenaline pulsed for two beats, as his finger twitched for his weapon. Then he took a deep breath. If one of his enemies had a gun on him, he’d already be dead.

A woman’s voice barked out an order. “Put your hands in the air and turn around...slowly.”

He complied and added a smile to his face for good measure.

Nina Moore held him at bay with an old shotgun that looked as if it had seen its best days during the Civil War. Her dark ponytail hung over one shoulder and she widened her stance as she leveled the barrel of the shotgun right between his eyes.

Crazy pregnant lady.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing on my property?”

“My name’s Jase Buckley and I heard you needed some help fixing up this place.”

Her eyes narrowed. He couldn’t quite 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 would be freezing cold. Would her baby feel the cold?

How had this happened? She kicked the side of the boat. When she’d checked out the boat a few days ago, she thought she’d found one thing at Moonstones that still worked.

The boat limped several more yards toward Break Island, and Nina climbed onto the seat cushions and waved her arms above her head. Did she even have a beacon on this thing?

In the distance, across the water, two boats seemed to be charging hard toward her. One had come straight from the boat docks on her side of the island and the other had rounded the bend from the town side of the island. Had they actually seen her or were they just out for a boat ride across the bay?

She flapped her arms to her sides like a giant bird and jumped—bad idea. The water in the belly of the boat sloshed and the outboard motor swung to one side, lifting the other side of the boat out of the water.

She stepped off the seat and shuffled to the leeward side of the boat. A loud crack resounded and the whooshing sound of water pushing through a small opening had her grabbing the bin where Dad had stored life jackets.

Why hadn’t she thought of that before? Gripping the edge of the lid, she paused, lifting her head to check on the progress of those two boats. The one from the docks by the B and B was still making a beeline toward her, while the other seemed to have disappeared. Maybe that one never saw her.

She grabbed an orange life jacket and slipped it over her head. She knew how to swim, but the flotation device would keep her afloat until her cavalry came to the rescue in case the cold water made her cramp up or her heavy clothes dragged her down into the murky water of the sound.

The boat rocked and she planted her feet on the deck beneath the water to steady herself, but the little fiberglass boat couldn’t take it. One side of the boat went under and the force flung her into the icy embrace of the bay.

The cold sucked the air from her lungs for a moment, paralyzing her, and then she made a grab for the side of the capsized boat. Her hands clawed against the slippery fiberglass until she found a hold.

The hum of an outboard motor got louder and louder, and she would’ve yelled out to make sure the boat was going to stop but her teeth were chattering so much she couldn’t get a sound past her lips.

She didn’t need to. The other boat’s motor cut out as it drew next to her incapacitated vessel. It floated around to her side, and a strong hand reached for her.

“Oh, my God. Are you all right, Nina?”

Tossing wet strands of hair back from her face, she looked into the dark eyes of Jase Buckley—her savior, or was he?

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“You have a complicated life, Nina.”

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