Free Times Change by Nora Roberts Page B

know who it is,” she snapped, infuriated that she’d jolted. “What are you doing?”
    “Before or after the lights went out?”
    She could see him well enough, silhouetted by the firelight, to make out the smile. “It’s the storm.”
    “What about it?” The muscles in her arms were tensed. He had to resist the urge to slip his hands up the sleeves of her sweater and soothe them and stroke her skin.
    “It knocked out the power.”
    He hadn’t let her go. He’d told himself to, but his hands hadn’t listened. “Would you like me to fix it?”
    Her laugh was quick and a bit unsteady. She wished she could blame the power failure for her nerves, but she’d never been afraid of the dark. Until now. “It’s a little more complicated than a toaster. The power company will get to it when they can.”
    He was sure he could jury-rig something, but he didn’t mind the dark. “All right.”
    All right, she thought, letting out a long breath. In the meantime, she was alone with him. Added to the fact that she wasn’t sure about his mental balance was the very real problem of being attracted to him. One thing at a time, she told herself, and took a deliberate step back.
    “We have plenty of candles.” To prove it, she lit the one she held in her hand. It helped her confidence when she saw the flame hold steady. “And plenty of wood. If you’ll put a couple of logs on the fire, I’ll deal with getting us more light.”
    He watched the way the small flame flickered in her eyes. She was nervous, he realized, and wished that didn’t make her even more seductive. “Sure.”
    Sunny gathered every candle she could put her hands on. Too late she realized that one or two would have seemed rustic. The dozen she had scattered through the room only added an impossibly romantic atmosphere. Stuffing the matches in her pocket, she reminded herself that she wasn’t affected by things like atmosphere.
    “You wouldn’t know what time it is, would you?” she asked him.
    “Not exactly. Around six.”
    She sat on the arm of the sofa nearest the fire. “I slept longer than I thought.” Now she was going to have to make the best of a bad situation. “So, did you entertain yourself this afternoon?”
    “I fixed the faucet.” It had taken more time and given him more trouble than he’d anticipated, but he’d managed.
    “You’re a regular Harry Homemaker, aren’t you?” Because it sounded sarcastic, she smiled. They really did only have each other at this point, and alienating him wouldn’t be wise. “I could fix some sandwiches.” She rose, willing to be gracious if it kept her busy. “Want a beer?”
    “Yeah. Thanks.”
    Sunny took two of the candles into the kitchen and nearly relaxed before she realized he’d followed her in. “I can manage this by myself.” She opened the refrigerator and swore when she remembered that the light wouldn’t come on. Saying nothing, Jacob handed her a candle. She shoved two beers at him.
    He remembered how she had dealt with the bottles that morning, and he was delighted when he found the same tool and popped the tops.
    “Switch on the radio, will you?”
    “What?”
    “The radio,” she repeated. “On the windowsill. We might get a weather report.”
    He found a small plastic box. He was grinning at it as he found the dial and turned on static.
    “Mess with the tuner,” she advised him.
    He was contemplating
borrowing
it and taking it back home. “Mess with it?”
    “You know . . . fool with it. See if you can come up with a station.”
    He stared at the little portable for a moment, wondering how one fooled an inanimate object. Making sure Sunny’s back was to him, he took the radio off the windowsill and shook it. Because that seemed stupid, he began to turn dials. The static faded in and out.
    “Mustard or mayo?”
    “What?”
    “On your sandwich,” she said, striving for patience. “Do you want mustard or mayo?”
    “It doesn’t matter. Whatever you’re