He pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her in a fierce hug. “I knew you wouldn’t do it. But nothing I said was working, so I decided to make you hate me so much you’d pack up and leave on the supply plane that very day,” he whispered into her hair.

“It worked.”

His embrace tightened. “I am so damned sorry for what I put you through.”

“And I’m sorry I realized what you were doing too late.”

He leaned back to look her in the eyes. “I love you, Megan. When I first arrived on the tundra and you greeted me, I felt like I was being run over by a herd of caribou.”

She opened her mouth, but he pulled her back against him again. “Shhh, just listen. I want you to think about us getting married. We can live here in Pine Creek, or wherever you want. I can work from anywhere.” He cupped her head to his shoulder, stroking her hair. “Don’t answer me right now. I just want you to think about it.”

She tried to pull away to speak.

“Shhh,” he said again, holding her in what was starting to feel like a desperate hug. “Just let what I said sink in for a while. Just…just give me a chance.”

She mumbled into his shoulder, but he just squeezed her tighter. The poor guy was shaking like a leaf, and Megan suspected it had nothing to do with his dip in the lake—despite his feeling as icy as a wet polar bear. She gave up trying to explain that he was making her cold all over again, and wrapped her arms around his waist inside his jacket to share what little heat she had left.

The baby gave a sharp kick.

“Holy hell,” Jack said, jerking back to stare down at her belly. “He just kicked me!”

“He does that sometimes,” she said, smiling at his shocked expression. She reached out and took his hand and set it on her stomach. “Wait a minute and he’ll do it again. Damn, now you’ve got me calling it a him!”

As if on cue, her belly started thumping like a snare drum. Jack laughed out loud and bent down and kissed the spot where the baby was kicking—then just as suddenly straightened, his face a dull red. He scrambled back to the fire and started stoking it again, even though it was roaring brightly enough to be seen from space.

Megan leaned back against the tree with a smile, running her fingers softly over her belly. Here was the man she’d fallen in love with on the tundra. Whenever he’d worked up the nerve to kiss her, he would turn red, get sort of clumsy, and all but apologize. One time after kissing her senseless, he’d turned and walked straight into the tent pole, bringing the entire canvas down on top of them. She was beginning to suspect his nerdiness wasn’t an act after all, since Jack Stone didn’t appear to have any more finesse than Wayne Ferris.

She was glad the nerd hadn’t disappeared completely.

Apparently realizing he was about to start a forest fire, Jack turned his attention to the dry sack. He pulled out a mess kit, a neatly coiled rope, a hatchet, some power bars, and a small plastic container. Megan knew the container held fishing line, a mirror and compass, several lighters, and an ozone light stick to purify water for drinking.

“No radio?” he said, pulling out the sleeping bag and peering inside the empty sack.

Megan shrugged. “We always carry the satellite phone. Besides, that sack is rarely ever opened because we rarely get into this kind of trouble.” She looked him directly in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Jack. I should have listened to you about not traveling back on the lake. I was being stubborn and stupid.”

He unrolled the sleeping bag and shook it open, then motioned for her to move so he could lay it out over the boughs. “You’re not in an exclusive club, sweetheart. We’d be here at least a week if I listed all my transgressions.” He sat down beside her. “Don’t ever apologize for following your passion, Megan. That’s what I love the most about you.”

“My passion?”

“Your passion for life, sweetheart. I swear you actually glow with energy when you get involved in something.” He turned to face her, his expression almost eager. “So what first attracted you to me? Be honest, now.”

Good Lord, he really didn’t have a clue, did he? No guy in his right mind asked a woman that. “Honestly?” she clarified.

He nodded very seriously.

“Your size.”

It apparently took a moment for that to assimilate before he suddenly turned away and started messing with the fire again.

“Hey—you asked for my honest answer, and I was first attracted to your size,” she told his broad, muscular back. She rolled her eyes, since he couldn’t see her. “It’s not like you’re puny or anything. You’re just not supertall. Why are you so sensitive about your height, anyway?”

“I’m not. Or I wasn’t until I met your family,” he muttered. “With your gene pool, my son will be looking down his nose at me by the time he’s twelve.” Megan immediately wiped the grin off her face when he glanced over his shoulder at her. “You little brat,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “You’re laughing at me.”

She immediately shook her head, then ended up nodding. “But in a sweet way. And only because I don’t get why you’re being so sensitive.” She rolled her eyes right at him this time. “What sort of guy asks a question like that, anyway?”

“I thought women liked sensitive men. Aren’t you always complaining that we don’t talk about our feelings?”

Well, he didn’t seem frozen to death any more. In fact, he looked rather hot. And sexy. And desirable. “I think we should go to bed,” she blurted out without thinking.

He pretty near fell in the fire, scrambling to his feet. “I’m going to get some more firewood. Hit the bushes if you need to, then go to bed.” He started to leave, then turned back. “Damn, I forgot you don’t have any boots.”

He walked over to the pile of gear he’d brought back from his own sled, and tossed her a pair of socks. Megan noticed that he’d also brought the two full bottles of beer as well as one of the empties. He picked up an empty bottle and shoved it in his jacket pocket—his hand re-emerging with her bra straps.

“Okay,” she finally admitted. “If you must know, I destroyed my bra to tie my pants closed at the bottom so I could walk.”

He tossed the straps at her with a laugh. “Good idea. At least your little swim didn’t freeze your brain,” he said. “After you put on the socks, go ahead and tie the pants closed. That should keep the socks dry while you to go to the bathroom. I might be gone a few minutes, but I’ll stay within shouting distance. I need to find a spring for drinking water.”

“That’s about as easy as finding a needle in a haystack, especially in the dark.”

“I have a hunch there’s one close by,” he said, walking out of camp.

Once again left staring at the spot where he disappeared, Megan decided that Jack’s hunches were starting to annoy her. Ninety percent accurate, her ass. She was lucky if her hunches were right half the time.

She didn’t bother putting on the socks or tying her pant bottoms closed, since she was going to have to take off the damn suit anyway. She walked a couple of yards past the tree while staying within sight of the fire, which only served to create more treacherous shadows than light her way. She stubbed her toe, cursed a bit, and hopped from foot to freezing foot with gritted teeth. She’d give her right arm for male plumbing for just five minutes!

She did her duty and ran stumbling back into camp without bothering to put the ski pants back on. She crawled up on the sleeping bag and stuck her feet in front of the fire, again gritting her teeth when they started to prickle as they thawed.

She finally put on Jack’s socks, hung up his ski pants, and checked to see if her own pants were dry. They weren’t, but she hadn’t intended to put them on yet, anyway. She balled his slightly damp shirt up for a pillow, lay down, and pulled the edge of the sleeping bag over her bare legs.