Teddy told herself it wasn’t really all that bad, with the power out, here on this remote little island, miles from anyone.

Her laptop was charged, and so was her Wi-Fi hub, so at least she could still watch Tim Riggins and his tight end in the Dillon Panthers football uniform.

Plus, she had a few books tucked away that she was supposed to read—one of which she was really looking forward to, because it was the latest Marina Alexander adventure. She’d saved it as a reward for finishing her book, and now she could dive in without feeling guilty.

Teddy had the flashlight, and she was certain she’d seen some candles in the drawer in the kitchen when she’d been looking for scissors a few days ago. That would help brighten things up a little.

But the wind whipped at the cottage, and the place shook with every renewed gust of wind. With the crashes of thunder sounding like a hundred massive plates tumbling to a tile floor, and the mean streaks of lightning scarring the sky, Teddy felt frighteningly isolated and more than a little nervous.

Still, she managed not to work herself up too much. “It’s good research,” she told herself—aloud again, for obvious reasons. “Now I’ll know exactly how someone feels when they’re stranded in an unfamiliar place in the middle of nowhere with a terrible storm raging around. At least I won’t have to worry about anyone breaking in in this weather— Ah—!”

She choked back most of the scream as her heart leapt into her throat. She darted to her feet, staring at the dark, shadowy figure running toward the cottage.

“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod,” she whispered, looking around for something to use as a weapon. A broom. A tennis racket. A chair.

A knife! From the kitchen. And a frying pan, because, well, blood.

She bolted into the kitchen, hunkering down as she ran in a probably vain effort to keep from being seen by her soon-to-be attacker.

By now, the figure had reached the door, and she heard it rattling in its hinges.

And then, as she lifted the heavy frying pan, she heard the most terrifying noise of all: the sound of a key being fit in the lock.

Ohmigod.

Okay.

Stay calm.

But her knees were watery and her heart was pounding so hard that she thought she might faint. Images from The Shining tore through her fertile mind as she ducked behind the edge of the kitchen door, holding the frying pan at the ready.

Maybe, with the lights out, the intruder wouldn’t know she was there. She could take him by surprise, and clock him with—

Oh, damn, her laptop was open and on…the screen was a dead giveaway.

Dead.

Don’t think about that right now, Mack.

Her thoughts went in hysterical loops, and Teddy realized right then and there that she much preferred writing about dangerous, scary, suspenseful scenes than living them.

The door eased open, and the figure—tall, dripping, wearing something shiny and dark that covered him from head to knee—stepped in.

She nearly fainted when she saw him look directly at the laptop screen.

“Teddy?” the figure called. “Are you here?”

She nearly shrieked with relief. And shock. In fact, she dropped the damned frying pan from shaking fingers. It landed on her toe.

“Ow! Oscar?”

“Teddy! What are you doing in the dar— Oh, the power line.” He pushed back his hood, then stripped off the dripping rain slicker.

She dropped the knife on the kitchen counter—no need for him to know about that; she was cool as a cucumber—and stepped over the frying pan.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” she cried, with all the vehemence of pent-up nerves mingled with wild relief.

“I…” He seemed ill at ease, but it was difficult in the dim light, cast only by her computer screen, to read his expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have any way to reach you. I—I forgot to leave my key.” He held up the offending item, the little metal object that had nearly given her a heart attack when he’d slipped it into the lock.

She managed to find her voice. “You came back because you forgot to leave your key?”

Okay, that wasn’t what she was hoping for—in the twenty seconds she’d had to assimilate that Oscar had returned—but at least she wasn’t here alone anymore. Even if he was a jerk.

“No, I came back— I came back because—well, I realized I left in a hurry, and we were sort of…in the middle—or, at least, the beginning of something.” He toed off his boots and stood uncertainly in the center of the shadowy room. “I came back because I wanted to know what that something was. If anything.”

Oh thank God.

Teddy thought that, but she didn’t act upon it. Not right away.

Until her legs carried her across the room and she slid into his embrace.

“I’m glad you came back,” she said as his arms came around her. “For a number of reasons—not the least of which being it’s really effing nerve-racking being here by myself during this damned storm. With no power. And ghosts around. And people breaking in.”

“Oh, Teddy,” he murmured with a quiet chuckle. He folded her tightly against his cold, rain-scented body. “I was so bloody stupid.”

The next thing she knew, he was kissing her. Really kissing her—as if he was dying, or as if he never needed to breathe again.

Her thoughts dissolved and she was only aware of Oscar: his strong, sure hands, his mouth, the solidness of his body, the taste and scent of him. Her eyes closed and she tipped her head back as he slid his mouth along the edge of her jaw, nibbling and nuzzling that sensitive spot beneath her ear. His mouth was doing insanely delicious things to her, sending hot shivers through her body, making her hair rise gently along the back of her neck.

At last, a particularly violent crack of thunder brought her back to her senses—and the realization that she did, in fact, need to breathe—and Teddy eased back.

“We should—uh—catch up on a few things,” she said, reaching up to brush that stubborn lock of hair back from his forehead.

“Probably a good idea. Um…do I smell pizza? I was in a hurry to get back, so I didn’t stop to eat.”

He’d been in a hurry to get back? Teddy smiled to herself as she replied, “It was frozen, but tasted pretty good—and fortunately, I finished heating it before the power went out.”

“Speaking of which, I’m pretty sure I saw the lightning hit the tree that took down the power line,” Oscar said. He went on to explain how his Jeep had nearly been fried, and why he’d been walking to the cottage and not driving.

“I’m not ashamed to say it freaked the hell out of me when I saw you running up to the house, all shadowy and dark,” she said, pulling down a plate and glass for him with help from the light he was shining from the flashlight.

“Yes, I can imagine. I saw candles in the drawer over here,” Oscar said, and took the flashlight over to search. “And tomorrow I can get the generator running.”

“There’s a generator? How did you know that?”

He gave her a pitying look over the flames of the four pillar candles he was lighting. “I wasn’t going to stay in a place with all of my lab equipment if there was a chance the power would go out for any length of time. I couldn’t chance my samples getting ruined.”

She shook her head. “Why am I surprised? You brought your own refrigerator, after all.”

“I would have brought my own generator if necessary,” he replied, setting the candles up on the kitchen table. “Fortunately, it wasn’t, or I’d have had to leave the centrifuge at home because it all wouldn’t have fit in my Jeep.”

“Of course you would have.” Teddy shook her head as another boom of thunder rattled the dishes in the cupboards.

“Well, since we’re on a well out here in the sticks, without power, there’s no water—or toilet,” he said.

Teddy froze. “What?” She was standing by the sink and twisted the spigot sharply to prove him wrong. Nothing came out but a small blurp of water, then a gurgle. “No water?”

Now she had another reason to be thankful Oscar had come back. She’d have had no idea about the water (or toilet) and certainly no idea about setting up the generator. She lived in Manhattan, for pity’s sake.

“We can use a bucket of water to flush the toilet if necessary,” he said around the piece of pizza he was devouring. “So don’t panic too much. There’s a lake right out there, don’t forget. Oh, I forgot—there’s a hand pump in the garden. That would be much more convenient.”

Right. Like she wanted to discuss bathroom procedures with the guy whose bones she wanted to jump…

“So, you came back.” She decided to take charge of the conversation, and to forget how she suddenly had to pee.

No toilet? Really?

There went her idea of a romantic, candlelit interlude while a storm raged outside.

“First, before I explain all of that… Teddy, how’s the book going? I realized after the fact that you were—um—exaggerating or maybe even—um—lying when you told me you’d finished it this morning.”

“It’s done now. I sent it off at precisely four twenty-five today. For real. My agent even called to say she received it.”

He smiled, and to her amazement, he seemed genuinely relieved as he gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “I’m so glad. Now you can really relax.”

“Yes. I’m definitely looking forward to all the benefits of finishing.” She gave him a very warm, very deliberate smile, and his eyes widened. Then they narrowed, and when he gave her the same hot smile full of promise, Teddy’s knees nearly gave out.

She’d better sit down.

“Happy to oblige,” he murmured, still looking at her in the candlelight. “Anytime. That is part of the reason I came back.”

“Only part?” she teased.

“Well, I had to return the key.”

Her gaze shot to his in indignation before she realized he was teasing her. “Right.”

“Teddy,” he said a moment later, “why do you have the sofa in front of the connecting door over there?”

She explained about the door hidden behind the rosebush and how she couldn’t figure out where it connected to the rest of the cottage. “And I didn’t even look in the plastic bins,” she added with distaste. “I was a big old scaredy-cat.”

“Anyone would have been. Especially being here alone, with all the stuff that’s been going on.” He looked as if he wanted to say something, then thought better of it. “We can look tomorrow. I don’t think we have to worry about anyone getting there in the meantime. No one’s going to be out in this storm, breaking in or coming from the lake. It would be impossible.”

She was silent for a moment, considering a whole lot of things. Mostly that he was right, but…

“You’re thinking about how Sargent Blue could get somewhere underwater during a thunderstorm, aren’t you?” Oscar said after a moment.

She grinned. “How did you know?”

He merely looked at her, and the soft expression in his eyes made her heart go very mushy.

He understands me. How did he get to know me so well in only a few days?

“There’s no safe way,” he said, and sipped the wine, then looked approvingly at the glass. “Hm. Not bad.”

“Well, scuba divers are underwater,” Teddy said, pointing at him with a crust of pizza. “They’re protected from the storm while they’re way down there, aren’t they? And they wear rubber flippers. They’d be grounded if they came onto the sand.”

“And what about their big metal oxygen tanks when they’re walking across the sand?” he replied with a quirked eyebrow.

“I’m sure Sargent Blue—or anyone who might be doing nefarious things—can get rubber-wrapped oxygen tanks,” she retorted. “And everything else.”

“Hmm. I don’t know. I think it’d be pretty risky. Even for Blue.”

“Risky is Blue’s middle name,” she replied, then got up. “I’m still hungry—that pizza was barely enough for one, and you ate half of it.”

“We can still use the gas stove even though the power’s out—by lighting it with a match.”

“S’mores!” she exclaimed. “I deserve Celebration S’mores for finishing my book. We can toast the marshmallows right over the gas flame. And of course I have the ingredients. I’m on summer vacation, aren’t I? S’mores are a requirement for summer vacation.”

Oscar looked as if he were about to say something—probably a reminder that until today she technically hadn’t been on summer vacation—but he didn’t. She gave him a smug smile as she rummaged through the kitchen drawers.

It didn’t take long to get everything together. She found a long, two-pronged meat fork that worked perfectly for toasting the marshmallows, and Oscar laid out the graham crackers and chocolate bars in a little assembly line.

“You have peanut butter cups here, too,” he said, looking at her with adorable confusion.

“Yes, of course. I like them better than just plain chocolate. Smoosh it between the graham crackers and the hot marshmallow—see how the peanut butter and chocolate gets all soft and gooey?” She demonstrated, then offered him the first s’more.

“I’m sold,” he said, after devouring it in one bite.

While the storm raged around them, rattling the windows and sending tree branches tumbling to the ground, they sat in companionable silence, eating s’mores and drinking wine in the candlelight.

“I’ve gotta say, this is pretty damned perfect,” Oscar said after finishing his fourth s’more. “And much as I’d like to finish out the evening in a more comfortable place as soon as possible—like, right now”—the look in his eyes made her insides go as hot and gooey as the marshmallows—“I should do something more difficult first.”

Her gooey insides solidified into stone. “What’s that?”

He drew in a breath, then exhaled. “I need to give you an explanation, and then I need to—um—answer a few text messages.” He set his phone on the table, and she saw that he had a lot of unread notifications on it. “And after that, if you’re still speaking to me, I want…you.”