It shouldn’t have been her problem.

She was a stranger in town. Someone with no links to the area, with no skin in the game. But when Ally saw the couple stumbling along the side of the road, there was no way she could drive on by.

The girl looked to be in her early twenties. Her legs were wrapped in skinny jeans that clung to her slender frame, and the oversized hoodie and blaze of blue and pink hair made her look more like someone who belonged in Portland rather than this town in the middle of nowhere. The boy with her was at least six inches taller, and it seemed to be taking all the girl’s strength to keep him upright.

They were a couple of miles from town. As Ally’s hired Nissan approached, the guy stumbled, and the girl lost her grip from around his waist, dodging just in time to escape hitting the road with her friend.

Ally stood on the brake. The car fishtailed and shuddered to a stop in a scream of burning rubber. Somehow, she remembered to flick on the hazard lights. Her fingers ached from clenching the wheel. The frantic beating of her heart made her dizzy, and she sucked in breath after desperate breath.

The girl was bent low, tugging at the guy’s arm. Trying to get him on his feet again. She cast a glance back at Ally’s car; fear and panic in her kohl-rimmed eyes.

“Jesus,” Ally cursed under her breath. If she’d been going any faster, he’d have been under the wheels. Adrenaline burning through her system, she shoved open the car door and made it out onto the road. “What the hell are you doing?”

The girl straightened. “I’m sorry. You’re okay, though, right?” Her eyes were wide. Frightened. “My friend isn’t feeling so good. I-I…” She looked down. Tugged his arm again.

Ally covered the ground to them in a couple of seconds. “Is he sick?” The stench of Jack Daniels hung heavy in the air. She crouched, and tipped up the guy’s chin, examining his face. He was a baby. An oversized, underage… His eyes flickered open. A sweet smile curved his lips. “Hi.”

“He’s drunk.”

The girl chewed her bottom lip.

Up close she wasn’t as old as Ally thought at first. “You’re twenty-one?”

The girl’s face reddened. “No. I’m twenty-two.”

Ally knew bullshit when she heard it. “What’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know my name.” Defiant. Defensive. She gripped the boy’s shoulder.

“I’m Ally. And if you want my help, you’ll have to give me something. I’m not calling you Girl all night.”

“Sophia.”

“I’m Rory,” the drunk at their feet slurred. “I think I’m gonna be sick—” Before he had the chance to finish his sentence, Rory hurled over the tarmac.

Ally focused all her attention on Sophia. “Okay, Sophia. Here’s what’s going to happen.” She’d been exactly where Sophia was now: in charge of a guy too drunk to walk a straight line. Needing help. In Ally’s case, it had ended with a public arrest, a trip to the drunk tank and a call to her father, who left her there to teach her a lesson.

“I’m helping you.” She moved to Rory’s side. Thankfully, he’d stopped vomiting. “We need to get you both into my car, and get Rory home.”

Sophia gave her a disbelieving look.

Ally pointed at herself. “Do I look like a serial killer? Wise up, girl. You can’t manage him on your own, and I’m not leaving you here in the middle of nowhere to be hit by the next car coming along. Help me get him up.”

They took an arm each and, struggling, wrangled him to his feet. Then, with his arms over both of their shoulders, managed to put him into the car.

“Get in front,” Ally ordered Sophia.

Rory lay across the backseat. Singing. Off key.

Ally started the engine. “Where does he live?”

Sophia gave directions, and Ally drove. After a while, the singing ceased, and loud snores emanated from the backseat.

“How old is he?” Ally shot Sophia a glance. “Don’t lie.”

“Seventeen.”

“And you?”

“Nineteen.” Sophia twisted her hands in her lap. “My father will kill me.”

Ally knew that feeling. “You think that now, but he won’t.”

Sophia turned beseeching eyes to Ally. “He thinks I’m staying at a girlfriend’s house. If he finds out about this, he’ll totally lose it.”

“So where were you going tonight? What was your plan?”

Sophia turned to look at Rory in the backseat. “We were going to stay out. It’s a clear night; we planned on having a few drinks, and then hanging out in Rory’s backyard. He has a tree-house.”

And parents who didn’t give a shit either, by the sound of it.

“He has to go away tomorrow. I won’t see him for a week.”

Rory coughed.

God, he better not throw up in the car.

“Turn here.”

Ally followed Sophia’s directions and pulled up next to a pretty, wooden house half hidden in the trees. No lights were on, and there was no car out front. She killed the engine. Turned to Sophia. “Help me get him to the front door.” Between them, they manhandled the stumbling teen to the dark house, where he collapsed on the doorstep. A few jabs on the doorbell went unanswered. There was no-one home. “I’ll have to call his parents.”

Sophia bent to search through Rory’s pockets. Her shirt rose up, revealing her back, and what Ally saw there made her draw a shocked breath.

There were healed wounds on Sophia’s skin. Welts. Before she could stop herself, she reached for them, touched the raised marks with her fingertip.

Sophia recoiled.

“Did someone hurt you? Your father?” She couldn’t keep the fury from her voice. “We need to get child services involved, you can’t…”

“Stay out of my life, okay?” Sophia’s voice was so high it was almost a scream. She pulled down her shirt and tucked it into her skinny jeans. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t need anyone’s help, and I don’t need some busybody reporting to child services.” She stroked Rory’s cheek, whispered something in his ear, and kissed him. “I’ll make my own way home from here. Thanks for helping us.”

Ally grabbed Sophia’s arm. This remote area was devoid of streetlights—the dark was all-encompassing, and there was no way in hell she’d let the girl walk away alone. “Wait, I’ll give you a lift.”

“I can’t go home, and I don’t want Rory’s dad to…”

“I’ll take you to your friend’s house then. I’m not going to make things worse for you, I just want to help, I promise. Come on, I’ll drive the car down the lane a little, and you can wait there for me while I deal with his parents.”

* * *

Jace unfastened the top button of his shirt, and shoved down his tie with a couple of fingers. He rarely worked nights, but this evening had been an exception because they’d reached a critical point in negotiations with a new European client. Working late had been worth it—the contract to supply one of the Netherlands’ biggest coffee house chains was in the bag.

Negotiating face-to-face would have been preferable, but time away from home was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He’d taken advantage of his mother’s generosity in looking after Rory too many times over the past couple of months—traveling to Seattle to visit Crystal.

Being a single father was tough. Sometime soon, he’d have to break the news to Rory that there was someone new in his life, and introduce them, but not yet. He wasn’t sure yet.

He stopped off for a takeout cup of coffee and a hot-pink frosted, sprinkle-dusted donut before the drive home, and had just climbed back into the car when his cell chirped. He eased the donut onto a paper napkin on the passenger seat and answered the call.

“What’s up, Rory?” Jeez, he hoped they weren’t going to have this conversation again. How many times would he have to lay down the law to his own kin tonight?

An unmistakably female clearing of the throat. “You’re Rory’s dad.”

He frowned. “Who’s this?”

“My name is Ally. I’m calling you from Rory’s phone because…”

Jace gripped the wheel. “Is he okay?” His heart was pounding out of his chest. “Is Rory hurt?”

“Rory is not hurt.”

There was a noise in the background. The female—Ally—shushed, then started talking again. “Rory is not hurt, but I do need you to come home straight away.” She breathed in. “I’m sorry if it’s inconvenient, if you and your wife are on a date or something, but it’s important.” There was a touch of judgment in her tone, as though she thought he should be sitting at home with his son. This must be the girl Rory was talking about. Damn, Rory must have snuck her into the house to say goodbye before tomorrow or something, but why was she calling? Why wasn’t Rory talking himself?

“Put him on the phone.”

“I don’t think…”

“I’m not asking you to think. I’m telling you to put him on the phone.”

That shut her up. A moment later, the situation became clear.

“Dad? Hey, Dad, how’s it going?” The slurred words were followed by a fit of giggles, then Ally was back.

“He’s drunk. I managed to help him as far as the doorstep, but I can’t get him inside.”

“I’ll be there soon.” Jace tossed the liquid from his cup, and wound up his car window.

They lived a few miles out of town, in a house that had been in Jace’s family for generations. After his mother’s fall a couple of years ago, she’d announced that living outside town was too difficult and had moved in with a widowed friend who lived on Main Street.

She said she wanted to be able to walk to the store rather than drive. But living in an all-male household probably was an element that factored into her decision too. Rory was grown. He didn’t need her any longer. In town, she could meet up with friends. Play cards. Drink margaritas without setting a bad example. Watch her soaps without battles for the remote control.

Most of the time Jace was happy about her decision. Tonight, not so much. Having an adult around had its advantages. Rory’d never dare get blind drunk with his grandma on the premises.

Jace gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles whitened. There were only a couple of houses down the lane that cut through the forest of tall Douglas fir, so the small silver car parked, almost hidden, further along the track caught Jace’s attention immediately. He slowed, fished out his notebook and jotted down the license plate—the action more reflex than anything else.

Then he swung the wheel, and captured his home in the headlights.

A dark figure sprawled on the doorstep, leaning his back on the front door.

Another figure straightened in the headlights’ glare. She looked down at Rory, long wavy red hair swinging around her face.

Anger propelled Jace from the car before the noise of the engine faded. He stalked up the couple of steps leading to the porch, and instantly crouched. “Rory.”

Rory’s eyes flickered open. His gaze was unfocused.

“Rory.”

Rory blinked. “Dad?”

“What did you drink?” Jace spoke to the stranger, without looking away from his son’s face. “What did he drink?”

“Jack Daniels.”

Her voice was calm. As if she didn’t care that his son was in danger of alcohol poisoning. Jace handed her the front door key. “Open the door, I’ll help him in.”

Getting Rory to his feet was like dancing with a dead great white shark. Jace managed to wrangle him to the sofa where he spent a few minutes examining him more closely. Rory was drunk, but he could make eye contact, and answer basic questions. He didn’t need medical attention, just to stay hydrated and to be watched to ensure his condition didn’t deteriorate.

Jace hurried to the kitchen and filled a glass from the faucet. He returned to make Rory drink, then eased him down to lie on the sofa.

Where’s the girl?

He glanced around and saw her near the doorway.

Not a girl. A woman.

I must be hallucinating. Blood pounded in Jace’s ears. Despite the evidence of his eyes, his brain refused to accept the presence of this woman in his home. He scanned her features: curling red hair, longer than it had been; high cheekbones, eyes that particular otherworldly shade of pale jade he’d never seen on another person before or since. Full lips. Did she still taste of strawberries?

Anger gripped, hard. His back straightened, and his jaw clenched. “You?” Blood pounded in his ears.

“You planned this?” Jesus, she must be some sort of deranged bunny-boiler. “You tracked me down somehow—and corrupted my son?” He took a step toward her. His hands curled into fists at his sides, and it took everything in his power to resist reaching out and gripping her upper arms. Damn. Despite the fact the woman was obviously a psycho, his body responded to her scent in the way it had all those months ago.

She stood her ground—anger flashing in her eyes.

“I planned nothing. I didn’t know your name then, and I still don’t.”

“So you hooked up with my son by chance?” He didn’t even bother to hide the sneer in his voice. “Made him fall in love with you? He’s a little young for you, don’t you think?”

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t—I don’t know your son. Tonight is a weird quirk of fate. I never planned on seeing you again.”

He wanted to shake the truth out of her.

“Tell me your name.” She tilted her chin up to stare him in the eye, everything about her proud, determined, defiant.

“Jace Carter. You said your name is Ally?”

Her eyes widened, and she gasped as though he’d said he was Count Dracula or something. She took a step back and twisted a lock of hair between her fingers in a move so instantly familiar it was as though their last meeting had been only yesterday rather than months ago. Then tucked the strand behind her ear. “Yes.”

“Ally what?”

“Ally Moore. Listen, you’re making a mistake. I… ” She shook. And maybe another guy would have taken pity on her due to the desperation flashing in her eyes.

But he wasn’t that guy. “Sit.” Jace planted his hands on his hips. There was no way he would let her go without an explanation.

“Jace.”

The way she said his name, husky and low, made his body tighten. He’d dreamed of her screaming his name as her fingernails scored his back. Had planned on making her forget her stupid rules about no names, no details, on their third round of lovemaking. That was before he woke to find her gone.

“Rory is home safe now. I have to go.”

Jace pointed to the chair. “Sit.”

For a split second, it seemed as though she would disobey. Her eyes flickered to the door and then back to his face, and whatever she saw there made her reconsider. She sat.

“Rory told me he was seeing someone, but I never expected it to be you.”

Something dark and dangerous gripped his insides and squeezed.

“You…” Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. Before she had a chance to try again, Jace held out his hand, palm first to silence her.

“This is some twisted shit.” He ran his hand through his hair. “You ran out on me. I woke up and you were gone. Now you turn up at my house with my seventeen-year-old son.” His teeth gritted so tight his jaw ached. “You gave him drink, which is against the law, and God knows what other things you’ve been giving him.”

The thought of her naked body and his son in the same room made nausea roil in Jace’s gut.

Her sharp laugh held no humor. “You think I’m dating your son?” She shook her head setting the red waves tumbling. “I don’t believe this. You’re completely delusional if you think for a second I’d screw a teenager and give him alcohol. I’ll say it again.” She glared. “I don’t know your son. I met him for the first time tonight when I almost ran him down. He was weaving all over the road, and I stopped. I’m a good Samaritan, not a predator.” She glanced at Rory. “He doesn’t seem capable of confirming this at the moment, but I can assure you it’s true.”

“Are you telling me he was alone? Just walking along, drunk?” He wasn’t naive enough to think that Rory didn’t drink—hell, every kid in Shepherd’s Crook had sneaked a beer sometime or another—but wandering around drunk in the middle of the night was totally out of character.

“I…ah…” Ally avoided his gaze. She bit her lip. “He wasn’t alone. There was a girl with him.”

“So where is this girl? Who is she?”

Ally’s throat moved. Her lips pursed. “She directed me here, and left. I don’t know her. I don’t know anyone in this town; I’m on vacation.”

Some part of that last statement was a lie. “You just happen to be vacationing in Shepherd’s Crook?”

“It pains me just as much as it does you that we’re in the same town. I never expected to see you again.” She crossed her arms and stared him straight in the eye. “I had no desire to see you ever again.” Her gaze darted to his lips then back to his eyes. A trace of pink flushed over her cheekbones, and somehow he knew he wasn’t the only one remembering that kiss at the stroke of midnight that New Year’s Eve, or the spectacular night of sex that followed in a quickly rented hotel room.

Focus. He breathed in and out through his mouth.

“So you don’t know him.”

“No. I met him for the first time tonight.” She held his gaze.

Telling the truth. The knife-edge of tension gripping Jace eased a fraction.

“Can you give me a description of the girl?”

“You should ask your son about that. When he’s sober.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to go.”

“I need to take some contact details for you.” Because there was no way Ally Moore was running out of his life again without a means of tracking her down. “Address and cell phone number.”

She gave him the address of a house outside town, and a cell phone number. He tried the number, and heard it ring in the pocket of her jacket.

“You didn’t trust me to give you the right number?” She frowned.

“People lie.” He didn’t elaborate, seeing no need to justify his wariness. “How long are you in town?”

“Just a week or two.”

Rory groaned from the sofa. Jace needed to force another pint of water into his son and get him cleaned up. Much as he wanted to detain Ally, it would have to wait. “This isn’t over. I’ll call you.”

“Of course.” Ally glanced around. “Can I just use your washroom before I leave?

He opened the door of the sitting room and pointed down the corridor. “First door on the left.”

She’d walked out on him before; she had it in her to do it again. He’d spent months trying to find the mysterious redhead after that crazy night. Had questioned friends and strangers alike who had been at the party and might have known her.

To no avail. The nameless woman who’d turned his world upside down had vanished like steam into the ether. He’d thought he was finally cured of the obsessive itch to know more about her, but now it pricked at his skin, burrowed beneath, making him feel alive for the first time in months.

Minutes later, she returned. He walked her to the door, then opened it wide and glanced out at her car. “You could have parked closer.”

“I guess I could have.” She extended her hand. “Good night, Jace.”