It wasn’t okay, not by a long shot.

This was exactly how her parents had died—a bad snowstorm, black ice, a truck plowing into their car. A mangle of flesh and steel so horrendous it had taken the highway patrol six hours with the Jaws of Life to get their bodies out. There had barely been enough of her father to bury.

Caroline had woken up more nights than she could count in a sweat, imagining her parents’ last seconds of life. The terror as they saw the truck looming suddenly out of the snow, the heart-sickening realization that it was too late. Her father had been impaled on the steering wheel, his legs sheared off at the thighs. Her mother had lived for two weeks, in a coma.

And Toby, poor Toby. Sweet, gentle Toby. Condemned to live the next six years of his life in a wheelchair, in constant pain, only to die before he reached his twentieth birthday.

She saw that in her dreams, lived it, night after night after night. And in her nightmares was the constant presence of Death, coming to take her, too, as it had taken the rest of her family. She couldn’t hope to cheat him forever.

This had the dark, metallic taste of her nightmares, only it was real. Caroline dug deep for control, found it, eased away from him.

“What was that?” Her voice was high-pitched and breathless. She looked up into Jack’s face, dark and intent. The only sign of stress was white lines of tension pinching his nostrils. He was being brave, so should she. She drew in a shuddering breath and tried to keep her voice level. “What happened to the car?”

“Tire blew,” he answered grimly. “Front left.”

Oh God, no. Her tires were old and bald. Caroline had been putting off buying new tires, hoping to hang on for at least another month, knowing it was foolish and knowing she had no choice.

She’d nearly killed them because she couldn’t afford new tires. And now one of them was flat.

It was just too much. Changing a tire in this weather. How on earth did you change a tire in a blizzard?

“Do you have a spare and a jack?” he asked.

“Yes.” The spare was as old as the other tires, but she did have one, and a jack. Considering the condition of everything else in her life, it was probably rusted and would snap in two in the cold.

It was so tempting just to put her forehead down on the steering wheel and weep out her rage and frustration, but as emotionally satisfying as it would be, it wouldn’t get them home.

A vicious blast of wind rocked the car, and Caroline clutched Jack’s jacket for balance. Dear God, they couldn’t stay here while she dithered—they’d freeze to death. Caroline turned in her seat and put her hand on the door handle, hoping her hands would stop shaking soon.

“What do you think you’re doing?” That deep voice was harsh. Caroline looked over her shoulder in surprise. His brow was furrowed, and he was frowning at her, the skin stretched tautly over his high cheekbones.

“Ah…” What did he think? They couldn’t stay here a moment longer than necessary. “Getting out to change the tire. We need to get home soon before the weather gets even worse. In a little while we won’t be able to drive in the streets.”

Night had fallen. The glow from the streetlights couldn’t penetrate the snow, and it was almost completely dark in the car. All she could see of him was the whites of his eyes and his white teeth. He touched her arm, briefly.

“Pop the trunk and stay in here. Don’t open your door, not even for a second.”

There wasn’t time to protest. The passenger-side door opened briefly, and he slipped out. In that one second that the door was open, a gust of wind blew a snow flurry into the car, sucking out the heat. Caroline opened the trunk and heard metal clanging in the back.

A second later, he was at her front left fender, jacking the car up, working almost blind. Every once in a while, the fierce wind would part the curtain of snow, and she could see him, large and dark and intent, kneeling by the fender. She switched on the overhead light, hoping it could help in some small degree, though she doubted it. It probably comforted her more than helped him.

Sooner than she could have imagined possible, he was knocking at her window.

He bent to put his mouth close to the glass. “Do you want me to drive?” he shouted, his deep voice carrying above the howl of the wind.

Oh, God, yes! Yes, yes yes!

The hell with politically correct. The hell with duty. The thought of driving in this weather over black ice with her bald tires made her break out in a sweat. It was another accident just waiting to happen.

Caroline met his eyes through the glass and nodded.

“Scoot over and buckle up.” His hands were cupped around his mouth, but even so, his words barely carried.

He wasn’t going to make her get out and circle the car. Bless him. Caroline managed to make it over to the passenger seat without breaking her hip on the stick shift. Jack waited until she was in the seat and pulling the seat belt over her chest before opening the door.

He could barely fit his legs in the footwell and had to ratchet the seat back to its fullest extent, bringing it even with hers. He started the engine, letting it warm up.

Caroline turned to him, a large dark shadow in the dark. “That was quick. It would have taken me an hour in this weather, if I’d even be able to manage it at all.”

He looked over at her. One corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile, just a quick flash of white teeth. “I’ve changed a lot of tires under enemy fire. You learn to be fast.”

“I’ll just bet you do. Listen—” Caroline breathed deeply. She owed him an apology. “I want to thank you for changing the tire. That was my responsibility and—oh, goodness, you’re hurt!” Something dark and liquid gleamed on his right hand. “Heavens, first you change my tire for me, then my car bites the hand that feeds it. I’m so sorry.” She fumbled in the glove compartment and came out with tissues, which she held against his hand. The tissue turned immediately dark red. He’d gashed his hand badly. She changed tissues. “Hold that against your hand for about five minutes until the bleeding stops. You might need stitches, that’s a nasty cut. We can stop at the emergency room of the hospital on the way.”

“No.” The deep voice was gentle as he covered her hand with his. She’d taken her gloves off to drive and felt a jolt as his large, rough hand covered hers. His hand was hot, radiating heat not only to her hand but to the rest of her body.

It was electric, the feel of his skin against hers. In the darkness, his hot hand seemed to anchor her. His grip on her hand was light, but the effect of it was enormous. Heat zinged through her, a sharp contrast to the cold, to the panic she’d felt.

She’d been frozen with panic, and his touch sent strength and heat through her system.

He squeezed lightly, then lifted his hand away. “I heal fast, don’t worry about it. We need to get going now, or we won’t get home at all.”

“But your hand—”

“Is fine.” He switched off the overhead light, put the car in gear and stepped on the accelerator. In a moment, they had crossed back over to the right side of the road. “Don’t worry about my hand. Just direct me to your house. We need to get there as quickly as possible. Where do I turn?”

He did heal quickly. The deep gash had almost stopped bleeding.

Caroline peered out the window uncertainly, though visibility was nearly zero. It was impossible to tell where the intersections were. The only way to find out would be by crashing into a car.

“Keep on straight down this road for three-quarters of a mile, then turn right. I’ll try to navigate for you.”

“Okay,” he said calmly. He was driving much faster than she had dared to. She would have said something—fast driving scared her—but he was clearly in total command of the car, and the more quickly they got home, the happier she’d be.