CHAPTER ONE

      Two months later...

      LOCKED IN A stall in the ladies’ room at Manhattan Mercy, Penny leaned against the polished metal separating wall and stared at her watch.

      Across from her, perched atop the toilet-paper dispenser, sat a white plastic wand that could change her footloose existence forever.

      It seemed emotionally safer to watch the hand on her watch ticking by than to stare at the tiny display for the entire minute it would take for the one line to appear, or two—results on the test she’d put off taking for three weeks.

      At first, she’d been unable to accept it was necessary. She’d had condoms. They’d used condoms. They hadn’t even been purchased at the cheapo general store, they had just been in her bag in case some kind of life opportunity happened. It was New York City. She could conceivably run into anyone. Like that guy from that movie...the one with the smoldering eyes. And maybe he’d be drunk, bored, or somehow seduced by her ability to walk and chew gum at the same time, and then...magic would happen. If she had condoms.

      A week later, she’d accepted they may have been old condoms.

      Last week she’d known for sure she needed to take a test. It had really only taken a week or so to take it...

      Still, hoping it was negative felt wrong. Because what if it wasn’t? She’d already be in the running for Mother of the Year from procrastinating on a pregnancy test without making disappointment the first emotion she felt for a tiny life she’d created.

      Definitely the sort of thoughts you never ever tell your child. Or anyone else.

      Or even better, thoughts to avoid having altogether.

      Every second the tiny hand ticked, her stomach grew heavier and more rumbly. When it finally passed the sixty-second mark, she lowered her wrist but still couldn’t bring herself to look at the test.

      This was not how women took pregnancy tests in commercials. They had pink bathrooms and a partner waiting outside the door, ready to celebrate, with something bubbly but nonalcoholic.

      Which she didn’t want anyway.

      It would be all right. Everything would be all right. Nothing bad would happen just because she looked at the little window...

      She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, shoring up her flagging courage that came with a twinge of self-disgust. The fact she even needed to boost her bravery should shame her into looking. Courage was a cornerstone of her entire personality. If something scared her, Penny had a personal maxim to run toward the thing, unless it was a bear.

      Another deep breath slowly exhaled didn’t help either.

      Nope.

      A minute—or even two now—wasn’t sufficient time for this. Why didn’t they make delayed response pregnancy tests so you could work up to it? It wouldn’t have to take that long for the testing, just some kind of delay on the display.

      I feel I’ll be ready to look at this Thursday. Push the Thursday button. Then take that many days to come up with a plan for how not to freak out.

      She couldn’t wait for Thursday. She also couldn’t look at the thing in a bathroom stall. Leaving aside questions about her emotional maturity, if she wanted to get in the pre-flight and maintenance checks before their shift started, she needed to go now.

      She snatched the little wand and stuffed it into the thigh pocket on her flight suit, zipped that pocket closed, and barreled out of the stall to clean up and get upstairs.

      The whole not-looking business was even dumber than her hike through a hurricane. She didn’t need to look, the answer had burned into her frontal lobe before she’d swiped her debit card at the pharmacy. Regular Rosie didn’t miss a single period, let alone two, for no reason. The test was a formality, therefore she was extra-stupid for not just looking at it.

      Gabriel would’ve told her so too, only she’d been unable to tell him about any of this before now. He would’ve picked her up, and squeezed her like an orange until she tinkled on the damned wand.

      The morning after that night, which she still found herself lingering over in quiet moments, he’d suggested the things they’d done never leave the motel room. It became the No-Tell Motel, minus all the sleazy connotations, because he’d declared it and she’d agreed. It was the sensible thing. Gabriel never suggested things that weren’t sensible, and sometimes he was the only reason she did things that were sensible. She’d seen the sense, despite not really wanting to see it.

      When he’d opened the door to leave the room, she’d grabbed his head and kissed the breath out of both of them one last time so she could hold to that agreement. The hedonistic part of her, the part that loved life and experience, hated giving up that experience so quickly.

      But? Sensible. She wasn’t in the market for a relationship, at least not a relationship relationship, even if she could’ve carried on a little longer. Tried out other rooms and, through trial and arduous study, gathered the data to support the hypothesis their night had borne: sex with Gabriel Jackson was as good as it got.

      But so was working with him.

      She really had no idea what friendship would be like with him, or anything else outside work and the unspeakable night because, despite her efforts, they hadn’t gotten to the cards and friendship-building conversations. They’d showered...vigorously. Then they’d made a mess of the bed even more vigorously. The wine had been drunk in between all that. There had been other pit-stops where they’d consumed cheese and sausage because stamina required fuel, but none of the business their mouths had gotten up to had been in the vicinity of talking.

      Unless you counted that talk. The sexy smattering of words between lovers.

      Just like that.

      Don’t stop.

      Oh, God...

      Heaven help her, she was doing it again. Thinking about all that, which had caused all this. The consequences.

      She took the stairs at a run, pounding up the ten flights separating her current floor and the helipad on the roof.

      At the top, with blessedly buzzing lungs and legs, she checked her watch on her way to the chopper. Just over two minutes. She’d have to do better if she was going to make it up eighty-six floors at the Empire State Run-Up in the New Year. If she even could do the stair-climbing marathon while pregnant.

      She climbed into the thing she’d been calling “Baby” for two years and worked through the checklist to go over gauges and start it up. Only when she’d finished did she sit back and reach into her thigh pocket to pull out the wand. Before giving herself a chance to think anything or to get worked up, she flipped it over and read the display.

      Two lines.

      Yep.

      Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement. A full look tracked Gabriel’s long stride eating up the distance between them.

      “Dang it.” She stuffed the wand back into the pocket and zipped it as fast as she could.

      Then the door opened and he gave her a look.

      “What?”

      “Why aren’t you starting it up already? Is there a problem?”

      “What problem? There’s no problem,” she blurted, too fast and too loud, then gestured haplessly at nothing, trying to get back on course. “I’ve already done the checks. Why are you...?”

      He