The collision rocked the ground, shattering the peace of the night, a cacophony of terrible noises he would never forget. Grinding metal, the scream of brakes, the force of the vehicles coming together, folding like accordions. The sight and sounds sent chills down his spine. Sparks flew, the convertible tumbled over and over, spilling gas everywhere. The Volkswagen, a compacted scrap of twisted metal, slammed into the mountain, flames licking along its length and up along the dried grass.

The smell of gas and flames and blood hit him hard. Jake hesitated long enough to report the accident from his cell phone. Leaping from the Ferrari, he sprinted toward the closest car, the crushed Volkswagen. The road was strewn with shattered glass and metal fragments. Shaina and her new boyfriend lay motionless on the ground in the distance, blood running from them in streams. Neither had been wearing a seat belt and both had been thrown several feet from the car. He doubted if anyone could have lived through the force of that head-on collision, but something propelled him forward in spite of the flames moving quickly along the road.

Gas was everywhere, even splashed along the mountain-side where the Volkswagen had tumbled end over end. Inside the Volkswagen, two occupants were hanging upside down, held by their seat belts, heads and arms dangling limply. He pulled at the nearest door. It was already hot with the flames licking at it from the flaming grass on the mountain. With superhuman strength he tore it open and reached inside to unsnap the passenger's seat belt. The body fell into his arms.

It was a woman, covered in glass and blood but alive. The burning gas left him no time to examine her first. He lifted her out of the crumpled vehicle, closing his ears to her cry of pain. He ran a distance from the cars to deposit her on the grass. Blood was pumping from a terrible gash in her leg and he yanked off his belt and wrapped it tightly around her thigh, just above the gash.

When he turned back, the Volkswagen was already engulfed in flames. He had no hope of bringing out the other victim. He hoped the occupant had been killed instantly. Resolutely he turned toward the convertible. He had covered half the distance when an agonized cry froze him in a fragment of time that would remain etched in his mind forever.

"Andy!"

The woman he had rescued had somehow managed to get to her feet, which was a miracle, considering her injuries. She stumbled back toward the Volkswagen. For a moment he could only stare incredulously. She had broken bones, was covered in deep, ragged gashes, her face was a mask of blood, yet she was running back, right into a wall of flames, and she moved with astonishing speed.

For a split second, pure shock held Jake frozen to the spot. The gasoline on the road had ignited. The flames actually licked at her legs, yet she continued to race toward the fiercely burning vehicle. The woman had to have known the car was going to explode at any moment, yet still she ran toward it.

Jake cut her off just a few feet from the car, snatching her up into his arms, sprinting away from the intense heat and building conflagration. She fought like a wildcat, kicking, scratching, the blood making her so slippery he lost his hold more than once. Each time he dropped her, she didn't hesitate to turn back, her eyes on the burning car as she tried to run and then crawl back toward it.

"It's too late," he cried harshly, "he's already dead!" Ruthlessly he flung her to the ground, covering her body with his own, pinning her down while the earth beneath them rocked with the force of the explosion.

"Andy." She whispered the name, a lost, forlorn sound wrenched straight from the heart.

In an instant, all the fight went out of her. She lay motionless in Jake's arms, small, completely vulnerable and broken, her eyes staring up at him, unseeing. Again, time seemed to stand still. Everything tunneled until he was focused wholly on her eyes. Enormous, tilted like a cat's, aquamarine with dark orbs, unusual and mesmerizing, now haunted. She seemed familiar-too familiar. He knew her, and yet he didn't.

For the first time in his life he felt a strong protective urge welling up out of nowhere. He became aware of the gathering crowd staring down at the woman as others leaving the party came upon the scene. Instinctively he shielded her, barking orders to check the overturned convertible, to ensure an ambulance and the police were on the way.

He worked furiously at stemming the flow of blood pouring from the woman's temple and from her leg. A part of him knew he should be thinking instead of Shaina and the child she was carrying, but his mind was consumed with the woman he protected. All he could do was vow silently not to allow her to slip away as she so clearly wanted to do.

Her grief-stricken green eyes begged him to let her go. Where had he seen those eyes before? He looked into them again, drawn by some unseen force. Almond shape, pupils round and black, the irises a rare aquamarine, the blue-green surrounded by a golden circle. Unusual. And yet somehow familiar.

"Let me go."

Jake found himself leaning close to her, his breath warm against her skin. He held her gaze with ruthless command, letting her know he refused to allow her to slip away, that he would hold her to him through sheer will alone. "No." He said the word implacably. "Did you hear me? No." He denied her a second time, his teeth snapping together in finality as he applied more pressure to the pumping wound in her leg.

She closed her eyes and turned her face away from him as if she had no fight left in her. The ambulance was there, paramedics pushing him aside to work on her. A short distance away, firefighters draped a blanket over Shaina's friend. It occurred to Jake with grim satisfaction that this was one accident Shaina's father could not make go away with his money.

More paramedics were working desperately at Shaina's side. It took him a minute to realize they were taking the baby-his son. His heart in his throat, he waited until he heard the triumphant cheers. The child was alive, which was more than they could say for the mother. He waited to feel emotion-any emotion-at Shaina's death or at the birth of his son. He felt nothing at all, only a sense of contempt for the way Shaina had lived and died. Silently cursing his own cold nature, he looked down at the woman lying so still, her dark eyes staring past the paramedic to the burned car. He shifted slightly while they worked on her, to block her view.

Jake followed the ambulances carrying his son and the woman to a small hospital. Although the place seemed a little primitive by Jake's standards, the overworked staff seemed to know their jobs.

"I'm Officer Nate Peterson." A young highway patrolman thrust a cup of coffee into his bloody hands.

Her blood. The woman with the mesmerizing eyes. Her blood was all over him. Jake's shoulders sagged and all at once he was immensely tired, but he needed to find out if she was still alive.

"Can you tell me what happened, sir?" the officer asked. The young patrolman was shaking so badly he could hardly hold his pen. "Andy and I were good friends," the man admitted, choking back emotion.

"Tell me about him," Jake said, curious about the man who inspired such loyalty that a woman would run through fire to save him, even with her own terrible injuries. A man who could make a patrolman shake and hold back real tears. Jake could feel the genuine emotion pouring from the other man. He looked around the hospital and found others looking just as distressed.

"His name was Andrew Reynolds and he was twenty-five, best mechanic in town. He could fix anything with an engine. I was best man at his wedding only five months ago. He was so happy that Emma married him. They were so happy."

Emma. That was her name. "Is she still alive?" He held his breath.

The patrolman nodded. "As far as I know. She's in surgery. Did you see the accident?"

Jake crumpled up the paper coffee cup and threw it in the trash can. "Shaina and her friend were drunk. I followed them from Senator Hindman's party. Shaina Trent, the woman, was carrying my child. I'm sorry, I don't know the man."

He gave the rest of his statement as clearly as possible, knowing the skidmarks would bear him out.

Jake overheard a young nurse crying in the hall and he walked over to her on the pretext of comforting her. "Are you all right?" He used his voice shamelessly, the tone that was both mesmerizing as well as commanding, designed to put everyone at ease.

She sniffed several times, her eyes bright and a little interested when she saw him. Jake stuck out his hand and patted her shoulder. "I'm Jake Bannaconni." He knew the name would be recognizable, and when her eyes widened, satisfaction settled in his belly. "Can you tell me about the woman? Is she alive?" He looked at the nurse's name tag. Chelsey Harden.

Chelsey nodded. "She's in surgery. She's only twenty-one. I can't believe this happened. She called me earlier today and said she'd just found out she was pregnant. She was so happy. She was telling Andy tonight at dinner. I bet she didn't even have a chance to tell him." She covered her face for a moment and broke into sobs.

Jake patted her shoulder again. "I take it you two were friends."

Chelsey hiccupped and blew her nose. "Very good friends. I went to school with Andrew and he introduced us. Now she has no one. Andrew's parents died last year in a car crash and Emma told me her parents had died when she was a teen. They only had each other. It seems like some kind of curse or something, all these car wrecks." Her face whitened and she covered her mouth with her hand. "I'm sorry. Your wife was killed as well. I'm so sorry."

Jake shook his head. "We weren't married, but we were having a child."

"He's going to be fine. He's a little early, but he's very healthy," Chelsey hastened to assure him.

"How long will he have to stay here?"

Meaning how much time did he have to set things in motion. He had a vague idea what he wanted to do, but no real plan. It was obvious the staff felt sorry for him. His pregnant girlfriend had run off with another man. Shaina was the paparazzi's dream. She loved the spotlight, and her exploits kept many gossip magazines in print.

The world believed that she'd left Jake brokenhearted, and it suited them both to let that assumption go unchallenged. Now that Shaina was dead, sympathy would surround Jake, and he could use that to his advantage.

"You'll have to talk to the doctor, but for a preemie, he's healthy. Maybe a week, but I honestly couldn't tell you." Chelsey let out a soft sigh. "Emma really wanted a family. It was so important to her and to Andy, because they didn't have anyone at all, so they kept saying they would have a big family."

Jake raked a hand through his hair. He should have his son transported immediately back to a hospital in Texas and return home. This wasn't his mess to clean up. But he knew he wouldn't. He had looked into Emma Reynolds's blue-green eyes and something had opened up in him, something nameless he didn't understand. Whatever it was, he couldn't just walk away.

A man approached, and beside Jake, Chelsey straightened, immediately changing her demeanor to a very professional face. The newcomer must be a hospital administrator. Someone had probably recognized Jake and they were sending the big guns to make certain he was comfortable with his son's treatment.

"You're burned, Mr. Bannaconni, on your hands and arms. You need to have that taken care of."

"I didn't even notice," Jake said truthfully, but he allowed the hospital staff to lead him away to an examination room.

He sized up the hospital administrator as his burns were treated. Dignified. Sincere. He was fiercely proud of his hospital-Jake could tell that the moment the doctor began showing him around-yet clearly the hospital had little money to bring in modern equipment.

Jake seized the moment, murmuring about a sizable donation for the care his son had received, asking questions about his child, about how long he'd have to stay, about the repercussions of an early birth and what he could do to better help the hospital care for him. And then he managed to turn the conversation to Emma Reynolds and how terrible he felt for her situation. What were her injuries? Did she need special doctors? He would be more than happy to fly in who or what they needed to help.

Dr. John Grogan, head of the hospital, tried to convince Jake that Emma Reynolds wasn't his responsibility.

Jake looked very grave. "I'm well aware that the rest of the world might think that, but the mother of my child was responsible for Emma's injuries and the death of her husband. Since apparently Emma has no one else, taking care of bills and making certain she has anything she needs is the least that I can do for her." He glanced around and lowered his voice. "I'd prefer that no reporters know I'm here or that my son is still here."

Grogan nodded. "We're a small hospital, Mr. Bannaconni, but we're very discreet."

Jake let out a relieved sigh and slumped a little to show how tired and upset he was. "Please let Emma's doctors know I'm willing to help out. I need to see my son now, if that's possible."

The first step toward inserting himself into Emma's life was accomplished. He let himself be led to the nursery where he donned a gown, mask and gloves to stare down at the wrinkled little boy who lay naked in the small incubator beneath the glare of the hospital lights.

"HOW is she today, Chelsey?" Jake asked as the young nurse came down the hallway toward him. "I've just come back from seeing my son and thought I'd peek in on her."

Emma's room was the first room closest to the nursery. She was pregnant and the OB doctor wanted her nearby in case she began to miscarry after her traumatic ordeal. It was easy enough for Jake to use the excuse that she was so close to his son to look in on her. Though conscious, Emma had been listless and unresponsive to the doctors and nurses. But when he walked in, her blue-green gaze would jump to his face and stay there.

Chelsey sighed. "She doesn't talk to anyone, Mr. Bannaconni. We're all a little afraid for her. But I heard your son was doing better. He's breathing on his own now and it's been only three days."

"Yes, he seems much better, although he should be gaining more weight, they tell me." Jake paused with his hand on Emma's door. So far no one had ever stopped him from going in. Today he wanted Emma to give the staff her permission to allow him to help her. "I'm going to try to give Emma a reason to live today. You gave me the idea the other day when we talked."

Chelsey patted his shoulder and this time her smile was flirtatious. "I hope you can find a way to get through to her."

Jake smiled back, letting his gaze slide over her with a man's interest. Chelsey's breath caught in her throat and she gave him a little wave as she sauntered off, her hips swaying more than usual. Jake pushed open the door to Emma's room and slipped inside.

As he entered he heard Chelsey giggle. "He's so hot, Anna. My God, when he smiles I think I'm going to orgasm on the spot."

He glanced at Emma and knew she'd heard Chelsey's comment. He closed the doors on the laughing nurses and crossed to her side.

Emma held her breath. He was back. She could go far away from the others and not have to face the reality of being completely alone again, not have to think of her beloved Andrew as dead, not have to deal with losing his baby, but then this man would come in and sit down, filling the room, filling her head with the scent and sight of him, compelling her to live again. He forced her back to the surface every time, where there was no escape from the terrible grief that overwhelmed her.

Silently she pleaded for him to go, to just let her be in the fuzzy, disconnected state that protected her from feeling-but once his gaze focused on her, it didn't leave.

"How are you today, Emma?" He always sounded intimate, talking to her as if they were best friends-more than friends. Closer. He used the pads of his fingertips to stroke back her hair. "Are you feeling any better?"

Each time he touched her, no matter how light, she felt as if electricity arced between them, zapping her alive again, so that the fears and the sorrow were closer than ever. And he held her there, gently but firmly, forcing her to look at her empty life while unimaginable grief poured into her, holding her prisoner.

She didn't answer him. She never did, just looked up at him mutely, begging him to let her drift back into her safe little cocoon.

Jake dragged a chair to the side of the bed, spun it around and straddled it. "I named the baby this morning. I didn't ever think much about what to call him, but I wanted to give him a good name, something that he'd be happy with even as an adult. I found a baby book on names in the waiting room."

She couldn't look away from his face. His tone was soft and low and very intense, but there was something that was a little off. She couldn't tell what it was. His eyes never left her face. He reminded her of a leopard with his golden-green eyes and his unblinking, piercing stare, so focused on her there was nowhere to hide.

He leaned forward. "He's so little, Emma. I swear I could fit him in the palm of my hand. It scares me to think of taking him home when I don't know the first thing about taking care of a baby. Does it scare you? You're going to have a baby. Did they tell you that? That the baby is still alive with only you to protect it?"

Her breath caught in her throat and her hands moved to cover her stomach. Was it true? She could feel her heart pound, hear it thundering in her ears. She'd willed herself to die, she'd wanted to die, and she would have taken her baby-Andy's baby-with her. She closed her eyes briefly, afraid she'd heard wrong.

Jake sighed softly and ran his fingers through his hair as if in agitation. "That's what scares me. There's only me to parent, to give the baby a good home, and I'm so far from the real deal." That admission slipped out and his voice rang with truth.

She swallowed-hard. Her throat convulsed. It took effort to part her dried lips and she had to reach for her voice. When it came it was thin and shaky and nearly unrecognizable. "Are you certain? About my baby? Are you certain I didn't lose it?"

He leaned closer to her. Jake Bannaconni. She'd heard his name spoken in hushed, awed whispers, but she still couldn't figure out why she knew him. What was there that was so familiar, and why did she feel as if his will held hers?

"Your baby is fine, Emma. The doctor said even with the blood loss, the baby appears to be healthy." Jake covered her hand with his. "There are no signs that the pregnancy will terminate. You're going to be a mother."

Tears burned behind her eyes again. Her baby. Her precious baby was safe. She wasn't entirely alone and there was a small piece of Andy growing inside of her. "Thank you for telling me about the baby. I was afraid to ask and no one thought to tell me. They only told me about my head, my leg, a million other injuries, and . . ." She trailed off and stared up at the ceiling, blinking, tears welling in her eyes.

"Andrew," he supplied gently. "I'm sorry, Emma. We both have to live with what happened. And we both have babies to raise by ourselves." He flashed a small smile. "I have the feeling you'll be much better at the parenting part of it than I will."

"You'll be a good father," she reassured him absently. "Don't worry so much." How in the world was she going to take care of a baby?

Jake picked up Emma's hand from where it lay quietly under his, his thumb moving along the back of it. His touch was achingly familiar. "Have they said when you can get out of here?"

Emma shook her head. "Where would I go?" The thought of her apartment, her home with Andrew, was too much for her to contemplate. She couldn't face going back to their home and trying to pack up Andy's things.

"We'll deal with it later, when you're feeling stronger," he assured. "I called my lawyer and asked him to look into insurance for you and a settlement of some sort. I hope you don't mind, but I at least wanted to get the ball rolling for you. I know you don't want to think about money, but it will be important when you have the baby."

Emma lifted her lashes, allowing her gaze to drift over his face. There was something about him that haunted her, commanded her, drew her like a magnet when she wanted to be left alone, to simply disappear. No one else compelled her as he did. She could simply go inside her mind and stay there, not face life without her beloved Andy. But once this man entered the room, he seemed to steal her will. She knew him. The memory of him nagged at her, yet she couldn't place him.

She could remember the events leading up to the accident, sitting in the car, so excited, the news of her pregnancy on the tip of her tongue. But she was holding back, determined to wait until they were at the restaurant and she could see Andy's expression, watch his eyes and his mouth when she revealed they were going to have their first child. He'd died without ever knowing. She hated that. Her gaze flicked again to Jake's face.

She didn't remember the crash. She remembered after, when there was pain and fire and Jake staring at her, stopping her from following Andy. His eyes fascinated her, pulled at her, a predator searching for prey. His focused stare made her uncomfortable, yet in some strange way comforted her. Maybe if her head ever stopped throbbing and the doctors backed off the pain medication she could think more clearly, but right now his personality was too strong and she couldn't think.

"How do I know you? I can't recall that we've ever met, but when I look into your eyes, I feel like I know you."

"I'm the man who pulled you out of the car." He looked down and withdrew his hand from hers to rub at his temples, as if he had the same headache she did. "I'm sorry I couldn't get to your husband. The fire was everywhere."

She saw burns on his hands and her heart jumped. She reached out and caught his wrists, turning the scorched palms over. "Is this from pulling me out of the car?"

Jake drew back, something inside him shaken from the touch of fingers on his skin. It wasn't sexual. He responded to women in a sexual way as a rule and he didn't mind relating to them in a physical way. He controlled women easily when they had a mutual attraction, but this was something altogether different and he didn't trust the feeling at all. "Yes." His voice came out gruffer than he intended.

She let out a small sigh. "I'm sorry you were hurt."

"Emma," Jake said softly, "what matters is that you and the baby are safe." He regretted pulling away from her when she'd voluntarily reached out to him.

Chelsey popped her head in the door. "You need anything, Emma?" she asked, but her gaze devoured Jake.

Emma's face closed down, her eyes going vague. When she didn't respond, Chelsey frowned and looked at Jake. He rose and patted Emma's limp hand.

"I'll get you a few things from your apartment, Emma," he said deliberately. "I'll be back this evening." He nodded toward the hallway and Chelsey followed him out. "I'll need her key and the address," he told the nurse.

"I don't want to get into trouble," Chelsey said.

Jake stepped closer, leaning down as if to keep their conversation totally private. His voice was low and compelling, but he knew the heat of his body and the scent of his cologne enveloped her. She inhaled and a small shiver of awareness went through her. "I wouldn't let you get into trouble. Emma has to snap out of this, and if she has a few things familiar to her, it may help. You're just helping your friend and you saw she didn't object."

Chelsey nodded and hurried away, to return with the key and a small piece of paper with the address on it.

"You're a good friend to Emma," Jake said as he pocketed the key and quickly walked away before she could change her mind.

JAKE found Emma's apartment building with little problem. He stood in the doorway and surveyed the small living space. Small? Hell, it was tiny. The furniture was old and worn with use, the china was chipped and cracked. The couple had nothing. He stalked through the four rooms. This entire apartment would fit into his master bedroom. Frustration grew with each step and he paced back and forth, prowling like the caged cat he was. There was something here he couldn't quite put his finger on. Something he needed to understand, had to understand. It was a burning drive in his gut.

Everything was very neat and clean, so much so he found himself throwing out the dead roses in the little vase. They seemed an obscenity in the atmosphere of the apartment. He paced restlessly again, quick, fluid steps of sheer power. There was a key but he was missing it. He halted abruptly. Pictures were everywhere, on the walls, the desk, a small bureau, and there was an album sitting on a coffee table.

He studied one of the photos. The couple was looking at each other, as they seemed to be in every other picture, as if they only had eyes for each other. Their expressions were genuine, love shining brightly between them until it was almost tangible.

He traced Emma's lips with a gentle fingertip. He had never seen two people who looked so happy. It was in their eyes, it was in their faces. Emma took his breath away. In most of the pictures she wore little or no makeup.

She was very small, almost too slender, with an abundance of flaming red hair framing her fragile heart-shaped face. He had never had the slightest attraction to skinny women-he preferred lush curves-but he couldn't stop staring at her face, her eyes. He touched her picture again, tracing the outline of her face, his other hand gripping the cheap frame until his knuckles were white. He put it down abruptly.

The kitchen was filled with baked goods, including a hardened loaf of bread that had obviously been baked from scratch. The bathroom held two toothbrushes, one white, one blue, side by side in a container. There was a pregnancy test kit right next to the small soap dish. In the corner of the mirror, someone had written "Yes!" with lipstick.