Jaimie: Fire and Ice (The Wilde Sisters 2)

Fine wasn’t quite what she meant, but she was determined to brave it out.

Good.

The last thing he needed was a hysterical female on his hands.

But she was definitely female, even with her body obscured by the voluminous folds of his robe, or maybe the very size of the robe, the way she was almost lost within it, only emphasized her femininity.

She was also doing her best to hang onto her composure.

She was an uninvited guest; he had not pretended otherwise. Now the city had gone dark and she was trapped far above it with a stranger.

He had to admire the way she was handling things.

She was also trembling. Fear? He didn’t think so. The wet clothes were getting to her. He had to get her out of those clothes, especially now that they might be stuck up here for who knew how long. She could wear one of his sweatshirts, a pair of his sweatpants rolled up.

The problem wasn’t what she could put on but how to get her to do it.

Instinct warned him that there might be some inherent difficulty in a man telling a woman he’d just met that she had to get undressed, even if it was for a strictly honorable purpose.

OK. First things first. He had flashlights. Batteries. Candles. Even a one burner propane stove. It was time to get them out.

“Well,” he said briskly, “we don’t want to sit around in the dark all night.”

“All night?”

“It’s best to be prepared for the worst, right?”

“Right,” she said, after a couple of seconds.

“Besides, it’ll be more cheerful if we have some light, a cup of coffee…”

“Coffee,” she said, and flashed a quick smile.

“Coffee. Some soup.” He smiled, too. “That dinner I was talking about before.”

Her smile faded. Her shoulders stiffened.

Jesus, he was an idiot. A little while ago, he’d been flirting with her, talking about dinner. It had made her uncomfortable. Now here he was, bringing up the topic again.

“Hurricane Sandy,” he said. “Remember? She taught me a lesson. I have a little stove. Flashlights. Batteries. Candles. Even one of those wind-up radios.”

“Oh.”

He could see some of her tension easing.

“It’s all upstairs.” He reached for her hand. “Come on. There’s just enough light to get us up there if we’re careful.”

He took a step. She didn’t.

“You won’t fall, I promise. I know this place inside out. Just hang on to me and—”

“I keep a flashlight and candles in my kitchen.”

Zach arched an eyebrow. “And?”

“And, why would you keep those things upstairs?”

“I don’t know. I just do. Now, come on. Hold on to my—”