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nodded. “The walking wounded.”
    She crossed the room and knelt beside him, placing the toast and hot chocolate on a tray between them. She nodded toward the generator. “Do you really think you can fix that thing?”
    He shrugged. “I’ve never thought of myself as a mechanic. But in a jam, I’ve been forced to repair a motorcycle engine, a truck’s driveshaft, and the broken wires on my sound equipment. Not to mention the time I had to defuse a bomb.”
    “A…bomb?” Her hand went to her throat. “Where?”
    “Myelinore. A town so small it isn’t even on a map. I was following the trail of a group of terroristswho had blown up a U.N. truck and had taken a survivor as hostage.”
    “Why?”
    “Because they wanted to get world attention.”
    “No. I meant, why did you follow them? Why didn’t you just report the incident and let somebody else do the tracking?”
    “Oh.” He gave that quick grin that always did strange things to her heart. “I was the only one around. If I hadn’t followed them, they’d have gotten clean away. And the man they’d taken hostage was a friend of mine who had a wonderful wife in Paris, along with two small children. I figured I’d never be able to face Monique and her kids if I didn’t do all I could to save Henri.”
    “And did you? Save him?”
    “Yeah. After nearly getting us both killed. When the terrorists left him bound and gagged in a deserted house, I broke in, thinking I’d just untie him and we’d slip away. But the terrorists had very cleverly booby-trapped the place before they left. There wasn’t enough time to escape, so I had to figure out which wire to cut or we’d both have ended up like that rabbit with the hawk.”
    Ciara shivered. It occurred to her that the danger she’d sensed about Jace Lockhart was very real.
    “Weren’t you scared to death?”
    “There wasn’t time to think about being scared. I did what I had to.”
    I did what I had to. Those words triggered a memory of her childhood. She’d once asked her motherhow she had kept going, when she’d found herself alone with six children depending on her. And her mother had said, I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself, honey. I just did what I had to.
    Ciara shook aside the eerie feeling, to concentrate on Jace. “After you’d freed Henri, and had escaped the booby-trapped house, what did you do?”
    “We ran as far and as fast as we could, and hid in the forest until we could make our way back to safety.”
    “Did you ever go back to that town? Myelinore?”
    “There was nothing to go back to. When the terrorists were done, they’d blown it clean away. The few buildings that remained were empty. All the residents had fled.”
    Ciara’s voice lowered. “And Henri?”
    Jace smiled then, and she could see in his eyes a sense of satisfaction. “He went back home. To Monique and his kids. The last I heard, he was serving as an advisor to the U.N. team in Paris. And living quietly in a cozy cottage in the country.” He bit into the toast and shot her a look. “Hey, this is good.”
    “Of course it is.” She sipped her chocolate, still reeling from all the things he’d told her. His life was so different from anyone else’s she’d ever known. And so far removed from her life in Hollywood that she couldn’t even begin to imagine it. “Why does it surprise you that I can cook?”
    “I didn’t expect you to be handy in the kitchen.”
    “I’m not really. But I do know how to make a fewthings. Breakfast, mostly. I make a really mean omelette.”
    “Good. You can show off your skill tomorrow morning.”
    “What makes you think I intend to cook tomorrow?”
    “Because, if I’m making dinner tonight, it’s the least you can do to show your appreciation.”
    “I think I’ll wait until I’ve tasted your cooking. I may not be so grateful.”
    “Coward. You’re going to eat those words.”
    “Thanks. But I’d rather eat steak. I’d like mine medium, with a few