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the contradictory data, but her brain kept returning to the moment when she rounded the back of his car and reality began deviating from her foreknowledge. Why was he alive? Why wasn’t he dead?
    “Come on, Nat, that scan took forever. You must have lots of pretty pictures of my heart by now.”
    “And a very pretty heart it is,” Nat answered, half-sarcastic, half-serious, before grabbing a pen and reaching for the sheet of labels she’d gotten out earlier. As she filled out the sticker with his name, the date, and the time she’d drawn the blood, she added, “But there’s nothing wrong with it.”
    “So did I have a heart attack or didn’t I?”
    “Your troponin levels say yes. But your heart shows no evidence of damage, which means no.” She set the pen down, and then placed the label neatly on the vial.
    “I’m confused.”
    “Join the crowd,” she muttered. She looked in his direction, trying not to notice his physicality. She’d gained at least fifteen pounds, probably closer to twenty, in the past decade, but he’d added muscle. The definition in his upper arms and chest was noticeable. And regrettably hot. “You weren’t exercising strenuously a couple of hours ago, were you?”
    Colin grinned at her. “Not unless eating an extra slice of cake counts. All that chewing, you know.”
    She didn’t smile back. “Elevated troponin levels indicate damage to muscle, usually cardiac. But your heart is fine.”
    “That sounds like good news.”
    “I suppose.” She pressed her lips together. “If you went to a hospital, they probably wouldn’t even keep you overnight for observation. Troponin tests can be wrong, but the scan should be conclusive.”
    “So I’m going to live?” All humor had disappeared from Colin’s face. His grey eyes were intent on hers, his strong mouth set in an even line.
    Natalya spread her hands. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
    “Come on, Nat, you can do better than that. Tell me my future.” She could see he was making an effort to sound casual, but his eyes were anything but.
    “I don’t do that anymore, remember?”
    “Exigent circumstances,” he responded. “When am I going to die?”
    She licked her lips, waiting. But his question didn’t spur anything in her mind, no flood of images, no quick fleeting glimpse of an unknown place that still seemed familiar. She shook her head in his direction.
    “Will I die tomorrow?” he persisted. “This week? Next week?” He stepped closer to her until he was so close she could almost feel the warmth radiating from his skin and she had to tilt her head up to look into his face.
    She shrugged. “No idea. I don’t see it.” He was in her space. She should step away from him or at least order him to back off, but she didn’t, torn by her own mind’s mixed messages. She didn’t want him to affect her. She didn’t want to show him he affected her. But part of her—maybe it was the girl who had taken his presence in her life for granted, believed they were for always—simply wanted to lean into him and exult for a moment that he was still living, still breathing.
    A smile broke over his face, curving his lips, lifting his cheeks, crinkling his eyes. And then his hands were on her, tugging her close. Her mouth opened to protest, but he was kissing her before she could form the words.
    His kiss earlier had been questioning, searching, but this kiss demanded and took. She kissed him back. It was impossible not to. Her eyes closed and she lost herself in the moment; familiar, yet different, the long-suppressed craving bursting into life, heat rushing through her and pooling in her core. Their lips parted and returned, tongues tangling, little gasping breaths escaping, until Colin began stroking his way along the line of Natalya’s cheek, lips teasing and nibbling.
    She let her head fall back, giving him better access to her sensitive neck and ears. He knew just how to kiss her, just what she liked. That hadn’t