The paramedics were deep in discussion with both Jake and Daisy. They wanted to take Daisy to the hospital, to run some tests.

"Nell."

She looked up to find Crash gazing at her. He'd straightened up and now held out his hand to hera"a silent invitation to come stand beside him.

She took both his invitation and his hand, lacing their fingers tightly together.

"Your hand is cold," he whispered.

"I think my heart stopped beating for a minute."

"She's okay, you know," he told her.

"For now." She felt her eyes fill with tears.

Crash nodded. "Now is all we've got. It stinks, but it's better than the alternative, which is not to have now."

Nell closed her eyes, willing her tears away.

To her surprise, he touched her, gently pulling a strand of her hair free from where it had caught on her eyelashes, pushing it back, dragging his fingers lightly through her hair. "But remember that line of thinking doesn't apply to every situation," he said quietly. "Sometimes taking advantage of now doesn't do anyone any good."

He was talking about...them? Was it possible...? Nell looked up at him, but he'd let go of her hand, all of his attention on Jake, who was pushing himself to his feet.

As she watched, Jake backed away to let the paramedics put Daisy on a stretcher.

"She didn't agree to go in for tests, did she?" Crash asked incredulously.

Jake gave him a you've-got-to-be-kidding look. "No chance. She's only letting them help her into the bedroom. She's still feeling kind of dizzy." He forced himself to smile as Daisy was carried past. "I'll be in in a sec, babe," he told her before turning back to Nell. "I know this is asking a lot, but... What are the chances of moving the wedding up a few days?"

Nell glanced from Jake to Crash then back. "How many days?"

"As many as possible. To tomorrow, if you can swing it."

Tomorrow. Oh, God.

"I'm afraid..." Jake cleared his throat and started again. "I'm afraid we're running out of time."

She would have to call the pastor, see if he could change his schedule. And the caterer was going to have a cow. It wasn't a weekend, so the band might be open to switching the dates. Buta"the guests! She'd have to call them individually. That meant close to two hundred phone calls. But first she'd have to find all those phone numbers and...

Crash touched her shoulder. When she looked up at him, he nodded, as if he could read her mind. "I'll help."

Nell took a deep breath and turned back to Jake. "Consider it done."

Chapter 6.

As far as weddings went, this one had been perfect.

Or rather, it would have been perfect, had the bride not been dying.

Crash closed his eyes. He didn't want to go there. All day long, he'd avoided that dark place.

The barn sparkled and glistened with the decorations he'd helped Nell hang. It rang with laughter and music. It glowed with warmth and light.

The band was great, the food was first-rate, the guests were bemused by the bride and groom's sudden change of plansa"because none of them knew the truth.

And amidst all the sparkle and joy, Crash could almost pretend that he was just as ignorant.

The champagne he'd had hadn't hurt much, either.

The crowd was really thinning out as it approached eleven o'clock. Crash watched Nell from across the room as she spun around the dance floor in the arms of a man he'd met just that evening. He blanked on the name. Tall, dark and distinguished-looking, whoever he was had just been elected to the U.S. Senate. Mike something. From California. Garvin. That was it. Senator Mark Garvin.

Garvin said something to Nell and she laughed.

Crash was certain that Garvina"along with the other 299 wedding guestsa"couldn't tell that Nell hadn't had more than two hours of sleep in the past forty-eight. The only reason he knew that she hadn't slept much was because in the past two days he hadn't had time to catch more than a short combat nap himself.

Of course, he was used to going without sleep. He was trained to be able to stay alert and functioning under severe conditions.

Nell was running on adrenaline and sheer grit.

"She's great, isn't she?"

Crash looked up to see Dexter Lancaster standing beside him, following his gaze. He was talking about Nell.

"Yeah," Crash agreed. "She's great."

"I figured you out, you know." Lancaster took a sip of his drink. "I've danced with Nell four times tonight. Garvin over there has danced with her twice. A collection of other gentlemen have taken her around the floor this evening as well. But you, my friend, have not danced with her at all."

"I don't dance."

Lancaster smiled and his blue eyes twinkled warmly. "She doesn't have a clue that you're hung up on her, does she?"

Crash met the man's gaze steadily. "She's my friend," he said quietly. "I happen to know that she's emotionally vulnerable right now. She doesn't need mea"or anyone elsea"taking advantage of her."

The lawyer nodded, setting his empty glass down on a nearby table. "Fair enough. I'll wait to call her until spring or early summer."

Crash gritted his teeth and forced himself to nod. By spring or early summer, unless there was some kind of miracle and Daisy went into remission, he'd be on the other side of the world. "Fair enough."

"Say good-night to her for me," Lancaster said.

Across the room Mark Garvin gallantly kissed the back of Nell's hand before releasing her. What was it about Nell that attracted older men like flies to honey? Garvin was Jake's agea"maybe even older. He was a walking ad for Grecian Formula.

Nell seemed unaffected by the blazing-white flash of Garvin's perfectly capped teeth as she turned and approached a group of women who were putting on their coats.

She looked incredible.

She was wearing a long gown, befitting the black tie formality of the evening wedding. It was long-sleeved, with something Crash had heard Daisy describe as a sweetheart neckline that dipped elegantly down between her breasts. It was a rich shade of emerald, whicha"Daisy claimeda"was Nell's duty to wear as maid of honour, because it accentuated the bride's green eyes.

The gown was made of some kind of stretchy velvet material that clung to Nell's slender figure, and drew Crash's attentiona"along with Garvin's and Lancaster's apparentlya"away from the bride's eyes.

As Crash watched, Nell laughed at something one of the women said. And as she laughed, she looked up and directly over at him.

He was in trouble. He knew that everything he'd tried for so long to hide from her was written clearly on his face. He knew everything he was feeling, all of his longing and desire, was burning in his eyes. But he couldn't look away.

Nell's smile slowly faded as she stared across the room at him, trapped by his gaze, just as he was by hers. He could see the hint of a blush rising in her cheeks.

Any second now, she would look away. Crash knew it. Any second, she'd turn and...

She didn't turn. She walked toward him. She came right across the dance floor.

Yes, he was in trouble here. He knew he was in big trouble. But he still couldn't bring himself to look away.

"I owe you a dance."

Bad idea. If he took her in his arms, if he touched the soft velvet of her dress, felt it warmed by the heat of her body beneath...

"I know it's not the same as tap-dancing," Nell said, "but for now it'll have to do."

She took his hand and led him onto the dance floor. And just like that, he was holding her. He wasn't sure exactly what she'd done, but he knew it wasn't entirely her doing that had put her in his embrace. He'd surely done something stupid, like hold open his arms.

And now that she was there, now that they were dancing, his instinct was confirmed. This was a very bad idea. He'd had way too much to drink to be doing this. "I'm not a very good dancer."

"You're doing fine." The fingers of her right hand were looped gently around his thumb, and her left hand was resting comfortably on his shoulder. He was holding her loosely, his hand against the small of her back, against the warm softness of her dress. Her legs brushed against his as they moved slowly in time to the music. She smelled deliciously sweet. Her face was tilted up, her mouth close enough to kiss. "How are you holding up?" she asked, looking up into his eyes.

He was dying. "I'm hanging in," he said.

She nodded. "I noticed you broke your no-drinking-unless-you-have-to rule tonight."

Crash gazed down into the calming blue of her eyes. "No, I didn't. Tonight, I had to."

"'Til death do us part,'" Nell said quietly. "That was what really got to me."

"Yeah." Crash nodded. He desperately didn't want to talk about that. "Do you think if I kissed you tonight, we could both pretend it never happened tomorrow?"

Her eyes widened.

"I didn't really mean that," he said quickly. "I was only trying to change the subject to an allegedly less emotional topic. It was a bad attempt at an even worse joke."

She wasn't laughing. "You know, Hawkena""

"I don't want to go there, Nell. I shouldn't have said that. Look, I don't know what I'm doing here, dancing with you like this. I'm a lousy dancer, anyway." He forced himself to let go of her, to step back, away. Distance. Separation. Space. Please God, don't let him kiss her....

He turned to walk away. It was the best possible thing he could do for her. He knew that. He believed it with all of his heart. But she put her hand on his arm, and he hesitated.

He who hesitates is lost....

He turned and looked into her eyes, and indeed, he was lost.

"This whole night's been like some kind of fairy tale," Nell whispered. "Like some kind of fantasy. If I close my eyes, I can pretend that Daisy's going to be all right. Give me a break, will you, and let me have my dance with Prince Charming. My world's going to turn back into a rotten pumpkin soon enough."

"You've got it wrong," he said harshly. "I'm no prince."

"I never said you were. Not really. This is just a fantasy, remember? I just want to hold someone closea"and pretend."

Somehow she was back in his arms again, and he was holding her even closer this time. He could feel the entire length of her, pressed against the entire length of him. Her hand was no longer on his shoulder but instead was wrapped around his neck, her fingers entwined in the hair at the nape of his neck. It felt impossibly good.

He was no longer dying. He had dieda"and gone to heaven.

"You know what's really stupid?" she whispered.

He was. He was impossibly stupid and certifiably insane. He should've walked away. He should do it now. He should just turn and walk out of the barn and stand for several long minutes in the bracing cold. And then he should walk into the house, up the stairs and into his bedroom, and lock himself in until his sanity returned with the rising sun.

Instead he bent his head to brush his cheek and nose against the fragrant softness of Nell's hair. Instead, he let his fingers explore the velvet-covered warmth of her back. Please God, he absolutely couldn't let himself kiss her. Not even once. He knew one taste would never be enough.

"It's really stupid, but even after all these weeks, I never know what to call you," she murmured.

He could feel her breath, warm against his skin, her lips a whisper away from his throat. Her words didn't seem to make any sense.

Not that any of this made any sense at all.

"I don't know what you mean." His voice was hoarse. She felt so good pressed against him, her breasts full against his chest, the softness of her stomach, the tautness of her thighs...

She lifted her head to look up at him. "I don't know what name to use when I talk to you," she explained. "Crash seems so...well, strange."

He was hypnotized by her eyes, drugged by the scent of her perfume, held in thrall by the beautiful curves of her lips.

"I mean, what am I supposed to say? 'Hi, Crash. How are you, Crash?' It sounds like I'm talking to one of the X-Men. 'Excuse me, Crash, would you and your buddy Cyclops mind carrying this tray into Daisy's office?'" She shook her head. "On the other hand, I find it nearly impossible to call you Billy, the way Jake and Daisy do. Calling you Billy is kind of like calling a Bengal tiger Fluffy. I guess there's always Bill, but you don't seem very much like a Bill." She narrowed her eyes, still gazing up at him. "Maybe William..."

Crash still didn't walk away. "No, thanks. My father always called me William."

"Ew. Forget that."

"I guess you could always call me 'The SEAL Operative Formerly Known as Billy.'"

She laughed. "And I suppose I'd have to call you 'The SEAL Operative' for short."

"It works for me."

Nell's eyes sparkled. "God, if that's my choice, I'm going to have to rethink this 'Crash' thing. Maybe after a decade or two, I'll get used to it."

Crash didn't kiss her. For one instant, he thought he'd totally lost control and was going to do it. He'd even lowered his head, but somehow he'd stopped himself. He felt sweat bead on his upper lip, felt a trickle slide down past his ear. For someone who had a reputation of always keeping cool, he was losing his, fast.

Nell didn't seem to notice. "What's the latest word on my security check?"