Cecilia, present day

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Running. So much running.

It was becoming her specialty, her superpower.

Cecilia Thiele—world-class sprinter when things got tough and uncomfortable.

She’d had a lifetime to practice that particular skill.

“Fuck,” she muttered and then winced and smiled apologetically when a mom with her two young sons slid her a look.

One of them was about Hunter’s age and whispered, or rather attempted to whisper because somehow when kids that age tried to whisper, their voices ended up carrying. And the shuttle they were in wasn’t large.

Which meant she heard the little boy’s excited statement with crystal clarity. “Mom she said the f-word!”

The younger of the two boys said, “I thought the f-word was fart. She said fu—”

“Oh look,” CeCe said, leaning over him to point out the window. “That tree is huge!”

It wasn’t really, but it got the boys attention off one another and their focus out the window rather than on her unfortunate use of the non-fart f-word.

The mom gave her squinty eyes for a second before grinning. “Definitely not the first time they’ve heard it, nor will it be the last.” She shrugged. “Just trying to keep that one”—she tilted her head in the direction of the littler brother—“out of the loop for as long as possible. He always saves that kind of stuff for the most inopportune moments.”

The dad chuckled and slung an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Like the grocery store checkout line.”

“And the dentist.” The mom grimaced. “And the school play.”

“I’m sorry,” CeCe said again. “I should know better. I’m a nanny.”

“Oh!” the mom said, a faintly calculating note in her voice. “Well then maybe in payment for your huge transgression, we can hit you up for a kid-free night while we’re here. How long are you staying?”

“Lizzie,” the husband warned. “You’re laying it on really thick. You’re the one who taught Tate his first bad word after all.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Well, at least he used it correctly.”

“At the dentist. ‘Get the goddammed thing out of my mouth,’ were his exact words if I remember correctly.”

CeCe giggled as the woman popped him on the arm. “Shh! I just got him to stop saying it.” She glanced up and smiled. “I’m just kidding about the babysitting,” she said as the shuttle slowed to turn into the resort. “But if you’re ever lonely and want a little company, here’s my cell.” She passed over a card. “We’ll be here for ten days.”

Cecilia glanced down at the paper and noted the California address for a company that she didn’t recognize. She’d known they were from the States, given their accent, but they both had a hint of twang that didn’t scream the Golden Coast.

“Oh, how funny,” she said, noting the location was near the firm where Abby and Jordan worked, RoboTech. “I live just outside of Marin.”

Lizzie clapped her hands. “So we’ve traveled halfway around the world to meet someone who only lives thirty minutes away?”

“Small world,” the husband said and extended a hand. “I’m Sam. It’s nice to meet you . . .”

“Cecilia,” she supplied. “Nice to meet you too. And it’s lovely scenery all the same,” she said to Lizzie. “I hope you and your boys have a fabulous trip. I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”

“Text me!” Lizzie whispered as they departed the shuttle. “We can do a spa day! I need some girl time.”

CeCe couldn’t help smiling at Lizzie’s energy. There was something incredibly infectious about her, like a little old granny whom nobody could deny anything. “I will,” she whispered back.

Then she gathered her suitcase, which had been delivered to the London hotel overnight and pulled it in the direction of registration. Thirty minutes later, she was on her way to her very own glass-roofed cabin.

And it was ah-mazing.

The first thing CeCe did was drop her bag on the floor and hurry over to the window-encased dome at the end of the cabin. A bed sat beneath the glass and she jumped on top of it to stare up at the sky. Though it was still daytime, it was already getting dark.

Would this be the night that she saw the aurora borealis?

Hopefully. But maybe not. She at least had time. Lots of time and she would see them, dammit.

For once in her life, one of her dreams was going to come true.

Sighing at the oh-so-lovely thought, she pushed off the bed and set about hanging up her jacket and tucking away her clothes. Then she cranked up the sauna—her cabin had a private one—because that seemed like a very Finnish thing to do.

Later she would walk over to the restaurant for dinner before double-checking the forecast.

Solar activity was predicted to be low for the next few days, but CeCe didn’t plan on letting that stop her.

She’d tape her eyelids open if necessary.

Her clothes ended up in a pile near the bed, but she didn’t bother picking them up. She could be messy for once and not worry that she would potentially be setting a bad example for her charges.

Naked, she strode toward the sauna and had just sat on the wooden bench, ladle of water in her hand, ready to dump over the hot rocks, when there was a knock on the door.

“Dammit,” she muttered and spooned the water onto the rocks before standing and reaching for a towel that was hanging outside the door. It was probably a staff member, having forgotten to tell her something important.

The steam hit her skin and beads of moisture slid down her chest, between her breasts and lower, between her thighs.

She was hot and wet all over, but that had been a common problem of hers of late.

“Seriously,” she muttered and headed for the door, throwing it open without glancing through the peephole.

Which was seriously an idiotic thing to do.

Because standing on the other side of the door wasn’t a staff member with a forgotten bit of advice or a slightly pesky query.

Nope.

Standing on the opposite side of the pane of wood was none other than Colin McGregor.

And she, Cecilia Thiele, idiot of all idiots, lost her grip on her towel.