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Santa Assignment
Delores Fossen
She was hiding from a stalker - and from Brayden O'Malley, the man who blamed her for his wife's death.But when Brayden asked for the incredible, Ashley Palmer couldn't refuse: He wanted her to give him a child, so his toddler son would live to see another Christmas. But forging a frightening intimacy with her ex-brother-in-law meant coming out of hiding…and evading the reach of a killer.Now the key to Ashley's safety lay in solving the clues of a perilous puzzle that only brought her and Brayden closer. But was the combustible desire threatening to consume them the greatest risk of all?



“I don’t want to be in the hospital for Christmas,” her nephew said. “Santa might not be able to find me.”
“Santa will find you,” Ashley promised. “I’ll make sure of it.”
He considered that with his now-pensive green eyes. Ashley had seen those eyes before. Brayden’s eyes. It stirred at least a dozen new emotions seeing them on a child she loved.
Then Brayden was there, in the doorway, watching them.
“I want you to accept my offer to stay at my house,” he said softly. “You might think I’m a couple of steps below navel lint, but I didn’t ask you to come here so you could get hurt.”
So, he didn’t dismiss her fears of the stalker. Didn’t give her one of those icy cop glances. It was one nearly perfect moment in what had been far from perfect between them.
And Ashley knew exactly where this had to go. Maybe she’d always known, but she’d needed this visit with her nephew for it to sink in. Now, she only hoped she could live with the decision she was about to make.
“I’ll do it,” she heard herself say. “I’ll have your baby.”
Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,
Our romantic suspense lineup this month promises to give you a lot to look forward to this holiday season!
We start off with Full Exposure, the second book in Debra Webb’s miniseries COLBY AGENCY: INTERNAL AFFAIRS. The ongoing investigation into the agency’s security leak heats up as a beautiful single mom becomes a pawn in a ruthless decimation plot. Next up…will wedding bells lead to murder? Find out in Hijacked Honeymoon—the fourth book in Susan Kearney’s HEROES, INC. series. Then Mallory Kane continues her ULTIMATE AGENTS stories with A Protected Witness—an edgy mystery about a vulnerable widow who puts her life in an FBI special agent’s hands.
November’s ECLIPSE selection is guaranteed to tantalize you to the core! The Man from Falcon Ridge is a spellbinding gothic tale about a primitive falcon trainer who swoops to the rescue of a tormented woman. Does she hold the key to a grisly unsolved murder—and his heart? And you’ll want to curl up in front of the fire to savor Christmas Stalking by Jo Leigh, which pits a sexy Santa-in-disguise against a strong-willed senator’s daughter when he takes her into his protective custody. Finally this month, unwrap Santa Assignment, an intense mystery by Delores Fossen. The clock is ticking when a desperate father moves heaven and earth to save the woman who could give his toddler son a Christmas miracle.
Enjoy all six!
Sincerely,
Denise O’Sullivan
Senior Editor
Harlequin Intrigue

Santa Assignment

Delores Fossen






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why Texas author and former air force captain Delores Fossen feels as if she was genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an air force top gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.



CAST OF CHARACTERS
Lieutenant Brayden O’Malley—San Antonio Police Department. To save his young son, Brayden asks his former sister-in-law, Ashley, to have his child.
Ashley Palmer—Once a rising star among criminal defense attorneys, for the past two and a half years she’s been hiding from a vicious stalker. However, to save her nephew, she’s willing to risk everything to have Brayden’s baby.
Colton O’Malley—Brayden’s three-year-old son and Ashley’s nephew. He’s too young to realize the sacrifices Ashley and his father are willing to make for him.
Miles Granville—Ashley’s former boyfriend. He’s jealous of Brayden and Ashley’s relationship, and is holding an old grudge, since Ashley once defended the two men who tried to kill him.
Trevor Chapman—Once Ashley’s close friend. Is Trevor hiding behind a timid facade, and is he the stalker who’s been tormenting her?
Hyatt Chapman—A fugitive who blames Ashley for his felony conviction.
To my editors, Denise O’Sullivan and Stacy Boyd.
Thanks for everything.

Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen

Prologue
Northern Virginia
He’d found her.
Finally.
And that meant now he could kill her.
From across the street, he watched Ashley Palmer as she parked her dark blue compact in her driveway. Since there was no garage, she stepped out in plain view. Practically right in front of him.
Yes, it was Ashley all right. A different hair color. But definitely her.
She turned—not in his direction, though—and ducked her head down slightly, probably to shelter her face from the angry December wind. A few stray snowflakes swirled through the air, some landing on her hat and scarf. Her breath created a filmy cloud around her face.
Her footsteps slowed as she approached her house, and she examined the other vehicle parked in front. Not his. But a rental, driven there by a visitor who was probably the last person on earth she expected to see today.
Well, the second to the last anyway.
He almost certainly had the honor of being at the very bottom on that theoretical list. But he had no plans for her to see him.
Not until he was actually in the process of killing her, that is.
He smiled. The thoughts of her death sent a rush of pleasure and anticipation through him. It wouldn’t be fast. Not some impulsive act born out of rage and the need for vengeance. It would be methodical. Precise. Cold-blooded. Because she had to be punished for what she’d done, and a quick bullet to the head wouldn’t punish her enough.
No.
Not nearly enough.
He’d made a mistake when he’d killed her sister, Dana. But he’d learned a lot from that little faux pas. Without suffering, retribution just wasn’t very satisfying. This time, there would definitely be suffering.
In fact, he’d already set his plan of suffering into motion with the surprise he had left in her house while she was out. It’d been easy to disarm the security system and slip inside. And his gift would perhaps rid her of any peace of mind she’d managed to find since her sister’s death.
Sweet, delicious torture. With the promise of much more to come.
But for now, he watched.
Waited.
And savored the scene that was unfolding right in front of him. He resisted the urge to open the van window so the heavily tinted glass wouldn’t obstruct his view of her and the encounter that was about to take place.
Pausing at the bottom of the steps, she stared up at the tall imposing visitor in the black coat who stood on her front porch. Even through the tinted glass of his car window, he could see Ashley’s expression go from astonishment to concern.
He laughed.
Because he knew that concern would only get worse, much worse, when she learned why her former brother-in-law, Lt. Brayden O’Malley, had come all the way from San Antonio. It was a stroke of luck, really. A special kind of torment for both of them that even he couldn’t have planned.
Not only had the lieutenant indirectly led him to Ashley—through the PI the man had hired to check up on her—but Brayden O’Malley would be the one to deliver the first blow. Or maybe the second, if she found the little surprise first. But it definitely wouldn’t be the last.
No. He would do the final deed himself.
After he’d played with her for a while.
He laughed at that thought, too. And he settled back into the seat, turned up the volume on his eavesdropping equipment and waited for Ashley Palmer’s world to come crashing down around her.

Chapter One
“Did hell freeze over?” Ashley asked, stepping onto the porch.
She spared him a glance, barely, before she turned her back to him and pulled out a key ring from her black leather shoulder purse. A tiny canister of pepper spray dangled from the large brass ring and clanged against the keys.
Brayden took a deep steadying breath. It didn’t help. Of course, that was asking a lot from a mere breath. Not much would steady him at this point. Especially not coming face-to-face, or rather face-to-back, with a woman he’d vowed never to lay eyes on again.
He’d made that vow exactly two years, seven months and four days ago. At a moment when Ashley still had his dead wife’s blood on her hands—both literally and figuratively. But Brayden had to push aside those brutal images. While he was at it, he had to dismiss the vow he’d made.
Because he desperately needed her.
Of course, now he had to figure out how to tell her that he wanted to take her seemingly ordered life and turn it upside down. Oh, and that the upside-down part would include forging a highly intimate, permanent relationship with a man she hated—him.
Whatever the opposite of a piece of cake was, this was it.
“Maybe hell did freeze over,” Brayden admitted under his breath. “Because I could swear there was just a sharp drop in the temperature.”
He obviously didn’t mumble it nearly low enough because Ashley glanced over her shoulder at him. The corner of her peach-tinged mouth lifted. Not from humor. Nope. There wasn’t a trace of fun and merriment on that mouth or in her cool turquoise-blue eyes.
So that she could reach the lock on the door, Ashley stepped closer. Close enough for him to catch her scent.
Something exotic and high priced.
A reminder that his former sister-in-law had expensive tastes, even if she no longer lived in luxury. This modest one-story place was a far cry from her sprawling upscale house in San Antonio.
Ditto for her present job. According to the background check he’d had run on her, she was practicing law—but mainly pro bono cases—for single mothers trying to collect overdue child support. Not exactly a six-figure income, and it was a huge financial step down from being the rising star of criminal defense attorneys in San Antonio.
“Come inside before you get frostbite or something,” Ashley said, shifting the paper sack of groceries to her hip so she could open the door. The security system immediately began to whine, and she reached inside to press the buttons on a keypad to disarm it.
Like her pseudosmile, her words weren’t really an invitation. Definitely not driven by a need to be polite, they were no doubt a product of curiosity. But he sensed apprehension as well. Lots of that.
Brayden understood completely.
Every inch of him was apprehensive.
She set the bag on a counter that separated the tiny living area from the dining room and peeled off her burgundy leather coat and hat. She’d cut her hair. Short and fashionably unstyled. And it was no longer honey-blond, but a dark chocolate that was a startling contrast against her cool pale skin. And surprisingly attractive.
Brayden truly wished he hadn’t noticed.
It had to be the fatigue and the stress.
It had to be.
“I’m not sure how this should work,” Ashley admitted, moistening those peachy lips. “Do we try some chitchat first? Or should we just get straight to the point of the argument that we both know we’ll end up having?”
His former sister-in-law had faults, but her directness sure wasn’t one of them. Under the circumstances, he found it refreshing.
“Let’s skip the chitchat. And just to let you know up front—brace yourself because you’re not going to like the point,” he volunteered.
“I figured as much.” She propped her hands on her hips. Not waif hips either. Curved ones. She was definitely built like a woman, and the snug jeans only emphasized that.
Yet something else he wished he hadn’t noticed.
Ashley studied him a moment. “So, you found out, huh?”
Brayden was almost certain he blinked. He hadn’t thought she would be the one delivering the surprises today. “Found out? About what?”
She blinked too. And for a split second, there was a panicky look in Ashley’s eyes. But she quickly covered it with a huff, which had a definite duh tone to it. “About where to find me, of course. Let me guess—you want to confront me about your unresolved anger? And this is some kind of requirement for a twelve-step program to help you deal with Dana’s murder?”
“No twelve-step program could help with that.” It’d taken long agonizing months to push the pain of his wife’s death aside just so he could function. It’d taken longer still for the numbness to go away. And even now, his life wasn’t normal. Never would be.
“Well, yeah,” she grumbled. “You got me there.”
Ashley turned her back to him again, pulled a pint of caramel-fudge ice cream from her grocery bag and strolled toward the fridge. She tried to look nonchalant—distant, even—but her tight at-war jaw muscles gave her away. This was no proverbial piece of cake for her, either. Especially since she’d let something slip. So, you found out, huh?
Brayden would let that pass.
For now.
Ashley took out a spoon from one of the drawers and opened the ice cream. “Wow, this must really be something earth-shattering for you not to get right to the point. You’re not the beating-around-the-bush type.” She sampled the caramel-fudge, made a sound of approval and recapped the carton.
“This isn’t easy.” Man, what an understatement. Brayden shook his head and wished he’d at least practiced what to say. He’d interrogated serial killers and hadn’t felt this uncomfortable.
“So, why don’t we just start with you telling me how you found me?” she prompted. “I’ve changed my name and kept my address a secret, so I seriously doubt you just happened to be in the neighborhood.”
“I hired a private investigator to find you.”
“A PI? This must be important.” Ashley had already reached for the freezer door, but she paused just a second before she opened it carefully as if the handle were fragile and might shatter in her hand. “So just how important is it?”
“Very. It’s Colton.” It was all he could manage to say without taking another breath.
Her gaze rifled to his. She stuffed the ice cream in the freezer, slammed the door and went toward him. Not slowly this time. Her long strides quickly ate up the space between, and she stopped only a few feet away.
“What happened?” she asked. “Has he been hurt?”
Brayden was thankful for the true concern that went through her eyes. The only real connection he had left to Ashley was through Colton. His three-year-old son. And her nephew. It was that connection that had brought him to her.
He was prepared to beg if necessary.
“He wasn’t hurt,” Brayden explained. “He’s had some medical problems.” A simple almost sterile explanation. It still put his stomach in knots.
Ashley reached out as if to touch him but immediately withdrew her hand and crammed it into her back jeans’ pocket. “Will I need to sit down before I hear the rest of this?” she asked.
“Possibly.”
Another nod that was edgy and clipped, and she dragged out not one but two chairs from beneath the small tiled table. Brayden didn’t take her up on her nonverbal gesture to sit. He continued to stand even after she dropped down into the seat.
“The diagnosis is acute lymphocytic leukemia,” he went on, after another breath.
She made a small helpless sound and pressed her fingertips to her mouth. “Oh, God. Leukemia. How he is? Is he okay?”
No. His son wasn’t okay. But Brayden didn’t even try to get that out. “He’s had chemo and is stabilized for now. But he needs a bone-marrow transplant. Not immediately. But eventually.”
“Okay.” She pulled in her breath, hard, and repeated that one word several times. “So, you need me to be tested to see if I’m a match—”
“You’re not a match,” he explained. “You’re already in the bone-marrow registry so Colton’s doctors were able to check. That’s not why I’m here.”
That brought Ashley slowly back to her feet. “Then why did you come?”
It was a good question, and Brayden considered a detailed, clinical answer. One that would make her at least think about his proposition before she tossed him out the door.
But there was no way to make this clinical.
Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Mercy, you’re not here to tell me he’s not going to make it—”
“Colton needs a sibling donor,” he interrupted, not wanting her to finish that thought. Then, he paused. Waiting to see if she had a response. She didn’t. Ashley just stared at him. “A sibling with my DNA. And his mother’s.”
She shook her head. Maybe because she didn’t understand what he was asking, or God forbid, maybe because she was already saying no.
She couldn’t say no.
He couldn’t lose his son.
He just couldn’t.
“I’m asking you to have a baby,” he explained.
Ashley blinked back the tears, and her eyes widened. “You’re…what?”
He swallowed hard and with it swallowed what little pride he had left.
Which wasn’t much.
“I’m asking you to have a baby,” Brayden clarified. “Our baby.”

FROM THE MOMENT Ashley had seen Brayden O’Malley standing on her front porch, she’d imagined lots of things he might say to her.
But this sure wasn’t one of them.
Not even close.
Still reeling from the news of her nephew’s illness, this latest addition to the conversation caused a serious information overload.
“Our baby?” Ashley repeated, certain she’d misunderstood him.
“Our baby,” he verified.
The words seemed to stick in his throat. And probably did. After all, he was talking to her. They weren’t friends. In fact, the last thing Brayden had said to her two years, seven months and four days ago was that he hoped like hell he never saw her face again.
She’d given him that. Ashley had disappeared from his life. From her nephew’s.
From her own life.
“The doctors think a sibling donor is Colton’s best chance for a bone marrow match,” Brayden continued. “Because the DNA will be similar.”
So, she’d heard him correctly. Her nephew had leukemia and needed a bone marrow transplant. She and her former brother-in-law were the best bet for giving him that.
Oh, mercy.
When the full impact of that hit her, her heart landed somewhere in the vicinity of her knees. And because she didn’t want to risk something as dignity-reducing as her legs giving way, Ashley sat back down.
“It’s not a hundred percent,” Brayden went on. “I mean, nothing is. But at least this way there’s a fighting chance we’ll have a suitable donor. No one in my family matched. I’ve even contacted all of your relatives, including distant cousins. No luck. And there’s not a match in the international bone marrow registry, either.”
“Oh, mercy.” Ashley searched for whatever she was supposed to say in a situation like this and came up with a total blank. “A lawyer without an immediate opinion. That’s one for the record.”
“Well, this isn’t an everyday occurrence.” He groaned, scrubbed his hands over his face and tipped his eyes toward the ceiling as if seeking divine guidance. “I should have found a better way to say it.”
“Trust me, there was no better way to say what you just said. Besides, you got your point across—believe me. A baby,” Ashley mumbled, aware that by repeating it, she was starting to sound a little psychotic. “Fate sure has a twisted sense of humor, huh?”
He shrugged. And made a sound of agreement. A mild sound. Which wasn’t congruent with his rigid posture. In that calf-length black coat with a dark blue suit beneath it and with his conservative, short, bronze-colored hair, Brayden looked much like a judge or a military officer standing at attention.
Or perhaps waiting for a firing squad.
“I know it’s a lot to ask…especially since you have a new life here.”
“A new life not by choice,” Ashley reminded him, lifting her index finger in a let’s-not-forget-that-little-detail gesture. “But out of necessity.”
He nodded. “Because of the stalker.”
Oh, yes. Always the stalker.
A person who might or might not be her former client, Hyatt Chapman. A name that even now caused her lungs to tighten and her breath to go thin. The sociopathic slime, whoever he was, had given her some of the most terrifying and troubling moments of her life—excluding her sister’s death.
And this, of course.
This definitely qualified as troubling.
Ironically, it was easier to talk to Brayden about a crazed stalker who had threatened, and tried to kill her than it was to discuss her nephew’s illness or a possible baby. So, Ashley let her mouth go where her brain was already gladly leading her. “I haven’t received any threatening letters or calls since I changed my name and moved here.”
Another nod. “That’s good.”
The words were right, but Brayden’s body language added an important postscript to it. It was good that the stalker hadn’t found her, but if—and that was a huge if—she considered what he’d just asked her to consider, it would almost certainly mean her coming out of hiding.
It would also probably mean having to deal with the stalker all over again.
Oh, mercy.
Ashley wasn’t sure she was ready for round two.
Round one had nearly killed her.
“And I really have started over here,” she continued, talking more to herself than to him. “I mean, I’m doing something that matters.”
For once in her life.
Of course, that was the problem with doing something that mattered. It didn’t automatically exclude other things that mattered, too.
Like her nephew.
But a baby? This was no easy fix. No easy choice.
Brayden walked closer, hovered over her a moment and sank down onto the chair across from her. Directly across. The knees of his pants brushed against her jeans.
His gaze met hers. And there it was. That shock of stunning green. She’d almost forgotten all those tones of vibrant color in his eyes.
Almost.
What she hadn’t almost forgotten was his face. Ruggedly handsome by anyone’s standards. Good Celtic cheekbones. A naturally tanned complexion. Toned and lean.
He was thirty-three now and had tiny lines at the corners of his eyes. Character lines, people called them. As if he needed any more character on that face.
Brayden pulled his gaze from hers. Shook his head. Mumbled something indistinguishable. And rammed his hands into both sides of his hair. “I wouldn’t have asked if—”
“If it weren’t for Colton,” Ashley finished. “Oh, I really do know that. I can only imagine what it cost you to come here today.”
Eye contact again. Barely a glance, though. He even cleared his throat. In the six-plus years she’d known Brayden O’Malley, she’d never heard him clear his throat. Ditto for any nervous gestures. The Rock of Gibraltar, Dana had called him. But today, Ashley was seeing a very different side of the Rock. The edges were definitely crumbling a bit.
“And I can imagine what it’s costing you to even consider it,” he admitted.
Touché.
There was an understanding, maybe even a bizarre empathy, left between them after all. And of course the memories were there, too. Lots of memories. Of the old professional arguments between a dedicated homicide cop and an equally dedicated and frequent pain-in-the-ass criminal defense attorney.
And they especially had all the old arguments about Dana between them.
Well, one argument really. The one where they’d accused each other of getting Dana killed.
I hope like hell I never see your face again.
Because those words Brayden had said to her long ago just wouldn’t go away, because they started to pound in her head like war drums, Ashley stood to give herself some breathing room.
“Take some time,” he offered when she started to pace. “Think about it.”
Ashley managed a nod. Somehow. Even though it seemed as if every muscle in her neck was knotted and stiff.
Part of her desperately wanted to jump at the chance to help her nephew. And another part of her just plain resented Brayden for bringing all of this to her.
But this wasn’t just about Colton. Nor was it just about Brayden and her.
It was also about a baby.
A baby who could potentially save a child’s life and complicate everything else. Because a baby was permanent. A bond. And it would mean bonding with a man who had trouble even looking her in the eye for more than a couple of seconds.
A man who couldn’t forgive her.
A man who was a reminder that she couldn’t forgive herself.
How could she possibly conceive a child under those circumstances?
Yet, how could she risk losing her nephew?
Pacing, repeating each of those arguments to herself, Ashley caught a glimpse of Brayden in the mirror on the antique sideboard on the other side of the table. Still stoic. Still soldier stiff.
Except for his eyes.
And in that glance Ashley realized that Brayden had the same questions, the same concerns, the same fears as she did.
“You wouldn’t have to give up your life,” he added. “But I know it’d change everything.”
Yes. It would. Heck, it had already changed everything. The life she’d so carefully put together, the sanity she’d found, hadn’t been shattered exactly, but it was no longer intact, either.
“I’ll have think about it,” Ashley assured him. But she couldn’t do that with Brayden in the room. She needed time. Alone.
Mercy, where had all the air gone?
Because she was sure she was on the verge of tears, and because there was no way she wanted Brayden to see her cry, she had to get out of there.
“I’ll call you,” she said, making sure her tone indicated this conversation was on hold.
And she was obviously successful in getting that point across because Brayden didn’t say anything, and he didn’t follow her. Ashley started toward her room.
Just as she detected the smell.
Was it smoke?
Ashley turned back around. So did he. He lifted his head slightly. And it was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he’d recently had a cigarette. But it was an unnecessary question. Because Brayden didn’t smoke, and besides the smell wasn’t in the living room.
She spun toward the hall just off the back of the kitchen and saw her bedroom door.
And the thick black smoke oozing from beneath it.

Chapter Two
Brayden didn’t waste any time.
The moment he smelled the smoke, he pushed past Ashley and raced through the kitchen, frantically searching. No smoke there, and no obvious source of fire.
“It’s coming from my bedroom,” Ashley informed him, pointing toward the hall.
She started ahead of him, but again, he moved around her and hurried to the room she’d pointed out. He saw the smoke drifting along the floor. And worse. Rising. It wouldn’t be long before it made its way through the entire house.
He touched his palm to the door.
It wasn’t hot. Thank God.
The old-fashioned faceted-glass doorknob was cool, as well. So, he opened it. Cautiously. Peering around the corner. When he was satisfied that he wasn’t about to face a full-scale blaze, he gave the door a shove with his shoulder.
No backdraft or wall of fire.
That was the good news. But the bad news was there were foot-high orange-red flames on the dresser tucked into the corner, and the flames weren’t staying put, either. They were quickly eating their way toward the draping lace curtains on a nearby window.
“Grab a fire extinguisher or some water,” he yelled back to Ashley. “And call the fire department.”
Sheltering his face from the blaze, he latched onto the curtains and ripped them down from the thick brass rod. Best not to give the fire any more fuel. It already had enough with what was left of the array of dried flowers, scented candles and pictures on the dresser.
Brayden stripped a quilt from the bed and beat down the flames. No easy task. Some scattered. There were sparks and sputters. And the black coiling smoke. It was suffocating, but he choked back a cough and kept working.
He soon realized just how lucky they’d been. It could have been worse. Much worse. If the fire had gotten just a few more minutes of a head start, they would have had an inferno on their hands, and the whole place might have gone up in flames.
“I have the extinguisher,” he heard her say.
She began to spray the white foam on the small smoldering spots that had ignited around the base of the dresser and the rug on the side of the bed. Brayden continued to put out the heart of the blaze by pounding it with the quilt.
The picture frames shattered against the wall. The melting candles sputtered. He stomped on the partially burned dried flowers that he raked to the floor.
One of the embers from the dried flowers flew out and landed on his pant leg. He reached down to brush it off, just as one of the flames erupted back into a blaze. The spark singed his hand, and he quickly drew it back, trying to maneuver the quilt so he could smother the fire.
“Brayden!” Ashley called out. From the alarm in her voice, she must have noticed his clothes on fire. She turned the extinguisher in his direction and hosed him down.
It worked.
But Brayden didn’t take the time to thank her. He returned to the tiny embers still left around the dresser and kept battling them until finally all that was left was the smoke and the damage. Minor damage at that. Yes, indeed, they’d been lucky.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
He glanced down at the small red mark on his left hand. There’d be a blister but no real damage. “I’m fine.”
She obviously didn’t take his word for it. Ashley grabbed him by the wrist and checked it herself. Her touch was warm. Surprisingly gentle. Too gentle. And the examination put them too close. Practically body to body. It didn’t help when her arm brushed his.
Brayden tugged his hand away and stepped back. “It’s nothing,” he insisted, wondering why that insistence felt as if it had a double meaning.
And why it felt like a lie.
“Should I call the fire department and tell them not to come?” Ashley asked, doing her own share of stepping back from him.
“No. They’re probably already on the way, and they can make sure all the flames are fully out.” For good measure, Brayden took the fire extinguisher and gave the whole area a good soaking.
Ashley went to the window, unhooked the lock and threw it open. The icy air blasted through the room, which was exactly what they needed because it helped thin the smoke almost immediately. It also shook off any lingering effects from her too-gentle touch.
“I don’t understand how this happened,” she said in between gulps of breath. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Probably from the cold, but Brayden figured part of it was a reaction to the near disaster.
Adrenaline was certainly pumping through him. As if he needed more. He’d been functioning on adrenaline and caffeine for days now.
He kept the fire extinguisher ready in case a secondary blaze reignited, and he examined the dresser. Even though he’d knocked off the items that had been on it, he could see the residue that had pooled on the veneer finish. It looked like melted wax.
“Did you leave a candle burning?” he asked.
“No.” Muffling a cough and still rubbing her arms, Ashley walked closer. “I mean, I use candles a lot, but I didn’t light one today.”
He stooped down and used the nozzle of the extinguisher to sort through the still-warm rubble. “You’re positive? Because it looks as if one burned down and managed to catch those dried flowers on fire.”
When Ashley didn’t answer, Brayden looked up at her. It seemed as if she was about to say something. But then she changed her mind. Instead, she shook her head and angled her eyes in another direction. “It’s possible. I guess.”
He stood up and checked Ashley’s recently reangled blue eyes. Nothing like Dana’s pale hazel ones. In fact, for sisters, they had few physical attributes in common.
Which helped this visit considerably.
It would have been much harder if she’d reminded him of his late wife.
“What’s this about?” Brayden demanded. In the distance, he could hear sirens. A welcome sound, except for the fact that he didn’t want their arrival to give Ashley an excuse not to answer.
“What do you mean?” Ashley grabbed a fringed throw from the foot of the bed, slung it around her shoulders and went back to the window. She stared out, once again diverting her gaze.
Oh, man.
That couldn’t be a good sign.
“It’s possible. I guess?” he said, repeating her own vague explanation. “Maybe I’ve been a cop too long, but that just set off the BS meter in my head.”
“You’re right.” And that’s all Ashley said for several seconds. Before she bent down and picked up a damaged picture frame from the floor. She fastened her gaze to it. “You’ve been a cop too long. Eleven years, huh?”
“Twelve. But if you think asking me that totally irrelevant question will distract me, think again.” He went closer, caught her arm and turned her around to face him. “In fact, that’s twice today you’ve set off that BS meter, and the first time was when you asked me the question—so you found out, huh? What’d you mean by that, Ashley?”
“You don’t have a BS meter.” She slung off his grip with far more force than required. “You have a blasted tape recorder. And if you must know, I meant nothing by it. I was simply surprised that’d you found me, that’s all.”
That BS meter went nuts.
Brayden would have called her on that lie if she hadn’t turned the picture frame around. Even though the glass was shattered and smeared with soot, he could still see that it contained a photograph of his son. Not a recent shot but one taken when Colton was just a couple of months old. When his son was still healthy.
Ashley had him cradled in her arms.
“I want to see him,” she whispered, drawing the photograph to her chest. “I want to go to San Antonio.”
Outside, the sirens howled, coming closer. But it wasn’t the sirens that captured Brayden’s attention. It was the woman holding the image of his son, and his future, in her hands. If this was her own version of a distraction so she wouldn’t have to answer his questions, it was working.
Brayden felt a tight fist close around his heart.
It wasn’t the yes he’d prayed for. But then, it wasn’t a no either.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t go back, ever,” Ashley continued. “Not because I don’t love Colton. I do. But going back…well, it could create some problems. I’m talking huge problems.”
“I know. But I’m not asking you to leave behind what you have here. We could work that out. And the baby wouldn’t be your responsibility. It’d—”
“It’s not just that.” She motioned toward her hair. “This isn’t for cosmetic reasons, Brayden. I did this hoping he wouldn’t find me.”
“I know.”
If she stepped away from this place she’d created, she could be stepping into danger. He’d already made security arrangements. He had already worked out ways to keep her safe. Plus, he’d taken into account how to minimize the effects this might have on her life.
But there was no way to minimize everything.
No way to make this even close to perfect.
To save his son, he’d have to ask Ashley to put herself in danger.

Chapter Three
“I made the right decision to come here,” Ashley mumbled under her breath.
Again.
And maybe if she repeated it often enough, she’d soon start to believe it.
Well, one could hope anyway.
“Did you say something?” the nurse asked.
Ashley shook her head, took off her coat and draped it over her forearm.
The nurse handed her a surgical mask. “Use this if you plan to make any physical contact with the patient.”
The cheery yellow mask was littered with happy faces. Definitely not a reflection of Ashley’s mood. She felt like one big raw nerve walking around on two-inch heels.
The five-hour trip from Springfield, Virginia, hadn’t done much to soothe her. In fact, it’d done the exact opposite. Since Brayden had seemingly turned mute on the flight and subsequent drive from the airport to the hospital, that’d left her with way too much thinking time on her hands. Yet, she still didn’t seem any closer to making a decision.
A baby, even a hypothetical one, was definitely a lot to think about.
She’d never even changed a diaper—a truly ridiculous thought. And that was the least ridiculous and stressful thought of all the what-if-I-really-do-this? thoughts zipping through her head.
For starters, a baby would require a pregnancy. Specifically her getting pregnant.
By Brayden, no less.
Even if they did the procedure through insemination, which was a certainty, it still had an intimacy to it. Then, there was the waiting and the praying that the baby’s bone marrow matched Colton’s. From the info Brayden had given her to read on the plane, they’d have to wait until the ninth week of pregnancy for the amnio to determine if the hypothetical baby was a donor match.
As if that weren’t enough, then there was the whole after the amnio part. The remaining seven months of pregnancy. The delivery.
And especially the part after that.
The part that was still one gigantic blur in her head even though those five hours had given her plenty of time to dwell on it.
Ashley decided to let it stay a blur for a while. It seemed a wussy response, but a blur was the most she could handle right now. She’d have to think about it tomorrow, especially since she was within moments of seeing her nephew.
“If you’ll come this way,” the nurse instructed, “I’ll take you to Colton’s room.”
Ashley followed her and glanced around the hall. “We aren’t waiting for Brayden?”
“He’s still in with the doctors. He said he’ll join you when he’s finished.”
Okay. So she hadn’t expected to do this alone. But in some ways, it might be easier. Of course, she could say that about a lot of things that involved Brayden. Being around him had a unique way of unnerving her.
The nurse pushed open the door and led Ashley inside. Not the drab gray interior she’d expected but one with a brightly colored jungle mural. Taped to the wall were childlike drawings of what appeared to be Santa and some rather lopsided gifts. A miniature Christmas tree was sitting on the table beneath the drawings.
Ashley spotted Brayden’s sister, Katelyn, in a chair in the corner, and they exchanged silent but amicable greetings before Ashley turned toward the hospital bed.
There were machines, their screens registering various data with thready almost frantic jolts of movement. One of them was making a soft pulsing sound. And in the center of that was her nephew. Dana’s son.
He was so small.
That was her first reaction. Followed by what felt like a heavyweight’s fist to her solar plexus. Ashley actually had to catch onto the nurse’s arm.
“Do you need a moment?” the nurse whispered.
Ashley waved her off and forced herself to let go of the woman. Colton certainly didn’t need a visit from a wimp.
She took a few short deep breaths, moistened her lips, pulled back her shoulders and approached him. At the sound of her heels clicking on the tile floor, Colton’s eyes fluttered open, zooming right in on her.
Ashley had seen those green eyes before. Brayden’s eyes. It stirred at least a dozen new emotions just seeing them on a child she loved completely and unconditionally.
Many of those doubts and blurs evaporated. And Ashley knew. She’d made the right decision to come here. No matter what else happened, this was the right thing to do.
“Are you one of Santa’s helpers?” Colton asked, his voice sleepy. He had a blue dog-eared bunny tucked in the crook of his arm.
Ashley glanced down at her garnet-red pants and sweater. The outfit definitely had a holiday look to it. She smiled. She didn’t have to force it, either, even though her facial muscles felt a little out of practice. It’d been a while since she had smiled.
Two years, seven months and four days.
Much too long.
He smiled, too. Wow! What a face. Pure innocence cut with just the right amount of mischief. It broke her heart and warmed it at the same time.
“Nope. I’m afraid I’m not Santa’s helper. Sorry.” She sat in the chair next to his bed. “I’m your Aunt Ashley.”
“I got another aunt. Aunt Katelyn. Are you a cop like her?” He held up the fake “rookie-in-training” badge he’d had tucked in the covers.
“Nope. I’m sort of a bad guy. I’m a lawyer.”
His eyes widened. “Like my mom was?”
Oh, mercy. That put a lump in her throat. “Yep. Like your mom.” Because she wasn’t supposed to get too close, Ashley resisted touching those soft golden-brown curls that lay tousled on his forehead. “So, you want to be a cop when you grow up?”
“Sure. Like my daddy.”
“Good choice. He’s the best of the best. And I should know. I used to have to cross-examine him in court. He could be a real pain in the…neck.”
Colton giggled, as if he’d known what she’d almost let slip. But the giggle faded when his attention drifted to the machines surrounding him. “Did you come to visit me ’cause I’m sick?”
“That’s one of the reasons.” That required another deep breath. “But you’ll get better.”
“Dad says that, too. So do Grandma and Grandpa. And Aunt Katelyn and Uncle Garrett.”
Garrett. Brayden’s brother. Another cop. And yet someone else she’d routinely clashed with during her power attorney days. She doubted she’d receive any warm nonverbal greetings from Garrett O’Malley the way she had from Katelyn. Still, Ashley wouldn’t let that put a damper on this moment.
Colton cupped his hand around his mouth and lowered his voice. “I don’t want to be in the hospital for Christmas. There’s no chimney, and Santa might not be able to find me here.”
That brought on more than a lump in her throat. It was an entire boulder. “Oh, Santa will find you all right,” Ashley said, speaking around that boulder. “I’m a lawyer, remember—I’ll subpoena him or something. Besides, it’s two weeks until Christmas, and you might be home by then.”
He shrugged, apparently not sure he believed that. Ashley silently cursed. Three years old was much too young to lose hope.
Maybe twenty-nine was, too.
For some reason, looking at Colton’s sweet innocent face gave her hope. Ironic since she hadn’t been able to find hope since Dana’s death.
“Santa will find you,” she promised. “I’ll make sure of it.”
She watched as he considered that with those now pensive green eyes. He gave a little satisfied nod. “Can you make it snow, too?”
Ashley laughed. “I’ll see what I can do, but since we’re in San Antonio, we might have to settle for the fake stuff. Is that okay?”
“Okay.” Colton shifted his gaze in the direction of the door. “Daddy,” he said, grinning.
Brayden was there, in the doorway. Watching them. Smiling at his son. Ashley had to hand it to him. Brayden looked a lot sturdier than she felt.
He’d removed his silver-gray tie. It was dangling from his jacket pocket. And he’d loosened the collar of his white button-down shirt. No more judgelike demeanor. Just a concerned father.
He strolled closer, gave his son a high five and then held a surgical mask over the lower portion of his face when he brushed a kiss on Colton’s cheek. “Are you feeling better?”
Colton stuck out his tongue in a yuck gesture. “I threw up again.”
“It means you’re getting well. All the bad junk’s leaving your body.”
A lie, no doubt. It was probably one of the side effects of the chemo.
Brayden glanced at her. “Are you ready to go?”
No. But Ashley knew she should go. The nurse had made it clear that she should keep her visit short because Colton needed his rest. “Sure.”
Brayden kissed Colton again. “I’ve got some things to do,” he whispered to his son. “But I’ll be back later to tuck you in.”
“Uncle Garrett’s coming, too?” Colton asked, excitement in his eyes and voice.
“You bet. And I won’t tell the doctors if he sneaks you in some candy again.”
Colton smiled in that oh-so-secretive way that only a child could manage. “Don’t tell ’em Aunt Katelyn did, too.”
“Hey, short stuff,” Katelyn quipped, looking up from the paperback she held. “Zipped lips, remember? Gummy bears are our little secret.”
The moment seemed well past being private. And much too intimate. Ashley murmured a goodbye to Colton, another to Katelyn and headed for the door. However, she barely had time to regain some semblance of composure before Brayden joined her in the hall.
“He’s a smart kid,” she said, because frankly she had no idea what else to say.
Brayden made a sound of agreement and started up the hall. “He’s had a rough time lately. He caught a stomach bug right after chemo. That’s why the masks are necessary. His immune system already has enough to deal with.”
So did Colton and Brayden.
So did she.
That didn’t mean they didn’t have to deal with more. And that was something Ashley couldn’t put off much longer. Not after what she’d just witnessed.
“Colton’s worried that he’ll be in the hospital for Christmas,” she let Brayden know.
“God, I hope not, but there’s always a chance of that happening. Still, the doctors think he’ll be home in a day or two.”
Home, but not for good. Probably only until the next round of chemo.
They went through the automatic exit doors and walked outside. The night air was cold. Not a Virginia kind of bitter cold, but it was enough of a chill that Ashley put on her coat and pulled it tightly around her.
As she always did when she stepped into a parking lot or even her own driveway, she looked around. Checking. Making sure no one was lurking. Because even after two and a half years, the fear was still there.
“Could you drop me off at a hotel?” she asked when they approached his car. She checked the time. Almost seven. “I don’t want to fly back to Virginia tonight.”
He nodded. “I inherited my grandparents’ house last year, and even though I still have a lot to renovate, the guest room is finished. You can stay there if you like.”
It sounded like an obligatory invitation. And a halfhearted one. Ashley considered letting it pass, but frankly she was tired of this. “Look, Brayden, I think it’s time we cleared the air. Don’t you?”
He didn’t look at her. What else was new? “This isn’t easy for either of us.”
He made his own sweeping glance around the parking lot, a cop’s glance, and opened the car doors so they could get inside. When he started the engine, Ashley was sure he’d just drive away and ignore the verbal gauntlet she’d tossed.
He didn’t.
“When I see you,” he said, his words clipped and precise. “I can’t help it. I think…”
“Of Dana,” she finished. “I know.”
“Of that night,” he added, getting right to the heart of the matter.
She nodded. Not that he saw her. He had his attention focused on the parking lot. “That night’s always with me, too.”
The night her sister was killed. Gunned down by an unknown assailant. Except most people suspected that unknown assailant was really Hyatt Chapman.
Ashley’s former friend.
Her former client.
Just hours before the shooting she’d helped him get the lightest possible sentence for an aggravated assault charge. Ashley had done that knowing full well that Hyatt was mentally unstable.
Situational ethics, some would say.
Doing her job, others would say.
Either way, she was wrong, and there was nothing she could do to change that. Her sister had paid for her mistake with her life. Though heaven knows, Ashley had tried to undo some of the damage by finding Dana’s killer. For two years, seven months and four days, she’d gone over every piece of evidence, every nuance of the case.
Two brothers. Trevor and Hyatt Chapman. They’d grown up with Dana and her. Along with the other player in the saga—Miles Granville—the man that Hyatt and Trevor had allegedly assaulted during a drunken rage because of a business deal gone bad. Miles was also her former boyfriend. Basically, those prior relationships made the case an ethical hornets’ nest and one she should never have taken.
And Ashley would regret her decision for the rest of her life.
“You can’t forget I withheld evidence about Hyatt Chapman’s psychological profile and indirectly allowed Dana to walk into ambush,” she reminded him.
“I can’t forgive it, either. I’m not even sure I’ve tried. Hell, I’m not sure I want to try. And you can’t forgive me for putting Dana in a place that made her feel as if she couldn’t come to me with the truth.”
Yes. Because if Dana had thought Brayden would give Ashley’s recently escaped client—Hyatt—a chance to surrender, then Dana might not have gone to that meeting. She might have sent Brayden instead.
And Dana would be alive.
And Brayden and Ashley wouldn’t be here having this conversation.
Instead, Dana and he would be trying for another baby. Or perhaps they’d already have one. Either way, Ashley was partly responsible for Dana no longer being alive and that made her partly responsible for Colton’s fate. The only problem with being partly, however, was that in this case, it felt overwhelming.
The silence closed in around them, and Ashley blew out a long breath. “Sheez, that was a vanilla argument, considering our past. We spelled out our sins with no gnashing of teeth or yelling. That’s a far cry from that night when you told me I hope like hell I never see your face again.”
“Yes. A far cry from the night you told me that I’d all but put a bullet in my wife.”
Yes. Those were her words all right. Each bitter one of them.
“Far cries aside,” she murmured, “you still haven’t seen my face.”
It was a dare, another gauntlet. And this time, it worked. Brayden lifted his head, turned and nailed his gaze to hers. Unfortunately, his movement came at the same moment when she noticed the car creeping through the parking lot.
Ashley tried to ignore it. Tried and failed. Before she could stop herself, she began to make mental notes of the specifics. A dark green van. Texas plates. Nondescript, except for the fact it had heavily tinted windows. So heavily tinted that she couldn’t see the driver.
When it finally crawled by, she pulled her attention away from it and reaimed it at the man who was waiting for her to fulfill her part of the you still haven’t seen my face dare.
“Want me to run a check on those plates?” Brayden asked.
So, he’d noticed. Of course, he wouldn’t have been much of a cop if he hadn’t. “No thanks. Old habits, you know.”
And those old habits ruled her life. In fact, when Ashley got right down to it, to that elusive bottom line, one of those old habits was the thing that worried her most about becoming pregnant. Giving up her life in Virginia was only part of the problem. Getting past her unresolved issues with Brayden was another. But the worst part was facing a fear that so far she’d had zero success in facing.
She cursed herself.
And cursed Brayden, as well.
While she was at it, she cursed the medical community for not having a cure for her nephew.
“You know those scenes in horror movies where the people go into a scary-looking house?” Brayden asked.
Okay. That got her mind off her mental profanity. “Excuse me?”
“Those scenes where people go inside even though they’re scared spitless and there’s this creepy music playing?”
Now, he looked at her. And she looked at him. Even though the subject was intriguing, and somewhat confusing, Ashley got lost for in moment in those eyes.
Mercy, where had that come from?
“Those people are too stupid to live because they ignore all their instincts and do something, well, stupid,” he continued. “And the point is, you’re not stupid. So, that means I want you to accept my offer to stay in the guest room at my house. You might think I’m a couple of steps below navel lint, but I didn’t ask you to come here so you could get hurt.”
As one-sided conversations went, that one packed a wallop. Brayden didn’t dismiss her fears. Didn’t give her one of those icy coplike glances. It was one nearly perfect moment in what had been far from perfect between them.
And in that moment, Ashley knew exactly where this had to go. Maybe she’d always known but had needed this moment, this visit with Colton, for it to sink in. Now, she only hoped she could live with the decision she was about to make.
“I’ll do it,” she heard herself say.
Brayden nodded. “Good. It won’t take us long to get to the house. I’ve already upgraded the security system, and some officers have volunteered to drive by and keep an eye on the place. It’s as safe as I can make it.”
He put the car in gear, but she caught his hand to stop him from leaving.
“No, I mean…well, yes, to the guest room,” Ashley assured him. “Because you’re right—I’m not stupid.” Well, not about this anyway. “But yes to helping Colton, too.”
His gaze rifled to hers again. But he didn’t say a word. He just waited for her to finish.
Ashley did. After she gathered enough breath so she could speak.
“I’ll have your baby, Brayden.”

Chapter Four
Brayden unlocked his back door, disengaged the security system so he could enter and then immediately reset it once he was inside. What he didn’t do was leave the family room. Instead, he stood there a moment in the thick darkness and listened.
If Ashley was still up, she wasn’t making a sound.
Of course, it was close to midnight, and after the trip from Virginia, the doctor’s appointment, the lab tests and the general stress of the past two days, she was no doubt exhausted. And probably asleep.
Well, hopefully.
Brayden hated to admit it even to himself, but one of the reasons he was so late getting home was that he preferred not to see her. That’s why he’d stayed away most of the night before and why he was late again tonight.
And that created a whole new round of guilt for him.
As if he needed more.
He’d asked so much of her, and she’d come through for Colton. For him. Somehow, Ashley had been able to put aside their past to give him the most incredible gift: a chance for his son to get well.
Yet, he wasn’t anxious to face her.
That couldn’t go on much longer. Eventually, they had to talk. About the insemination. About the upcoming pregnancy. About the logistics of how all of this would work. They had to discuss what would happen once she became pregnant. Would she stay in San Antonio or return to her self-made sanctuary in Virginia?
Brayden refused to change that once to an if.
Ashley would become pregnant.
And the new baby’s bone marrow would be a match for Colton. He’d have two healthy children to love and raise.
That was the only scenario he could accept.
He leaned against the wall and listened for several moments but only heard the hum of the fridge in the adjoining kitchen and the rhythmic swings of the pendulum in the grandfather clock. Certain that he could make a clean escape to his bedroom, he crossed the room to the hall.
And came face-to-face with a baseball bat.
He moved out of instinct, latching onto the bat before it could be used to assault him. In the same motion, he grabbed the person’s wrist.
His brain registered that it was probably Ashley. Probably. But in the back of his mind, there was a concern that it might be an intruder.
“It’s me,” he managed to say. “It’s Brayden.”
He heard her then. Definitely Ashley. She made a sound of surprise, of recognition, of relief, but unfortunately her body was a couple of steps ahead of that sound. She’d already started toward him, and it was Brayden who stopped her forward progression.
Ashley rammed into him, off-balancing them both. And they went down to the floor. He managed to turn them at the last possible second so that he took the brunt of the fall. Chivalrous, yes, but not very bright since his head banged the corner of the clock.
Brayden could have sworn he saw stars.
But that wasn’t all his chivalrous act had done. No such luck. Ashley landed on top of him. Her breasts against his chest. And their lower bodies aligned in the worst way possible. If it hadn’t been for their clothes, they might have had accidental sex.
“It’s me,” he repeated. Heaven knows why. Ashley obviously knew that by now.
She looked down at him, her breath gusting and hitting him in the face. She smelled like mint toothpaste.
And sex.
Brayden quickly pushed aside that thought. It probably had something to do with the fact that earlier in the evening he’d spent some time in the collection room at the clinic donating his contribution for the artificial insemination. Difficult not to think of sex after that.
“I thought it was someone breaking in,” she said, climbing off him. Not easily, either. There was a lot of slippery sliding contact that reminded Brayden he was a man. And that she was a woman.
She rolled to the side, flopped onto her back and lay there, most likely so she could catch her breath. Brayden tried to do the same.
“I didn’t hear the garage door open so I didn’t think it was you,” she explained.
“I figured the garage door would wake you up so I parked in the drive and came in through the back.”
More of those gusty breaths punctuated by some mumbling. “I was already awake.”
“Obviously.” He forced himself to get up and then offered her a hand. Ashley latched onto him, and he helped her to her feet. “Are you hurt?” he asked.
“No. How about you?”
He wouldn’t dare mention the stars whirling around his head or the bruise he’d almost certainly have on his butt. “I’ll live.”
Brayden reached over and turned on the light. A huge mistake. Major. Ashley might not have been sleeping when he arrived, but she was definitely ready for bed.
She wore pajamas. Not some baggy, formless outfit, but Christmas-red silk pj’s that clung to just about every inch of her. The top was short. Cropped. And it cropped just enough to expose about an inch or so of her bare stomach.
No bra.
How did he know that?
Because the top was also snug, and he could see the exact shape of her breasts. Small. Firm, from the looks of them. And for reasons Brayden didn’t want to explore, he looked.
With that look, he felt his body make all kinds of suggestions. Bad suggestions. Suggestions he had no intention of acting on. Brayden forced his attention from her breasts to her face.
Not a great idea, either.
Her hair was tousled, framing her face. Emphasizing that naked mouth and her eyes. It was a reminder that he’d never seen her without her makeup in her pj’s.
It didn’t seem as if it was something he should be seeing now, either.
“Uh, how was Colton?” Ashley asked, licking her lips. Not a come-on kind of lick either. A fidgety kind of lick. She was nervous.
Welcome to the club.
Brayden was glad she came up with a suitable subject. Because raunchy thoughts aside, he was drawing a blank in the particular area of where they should go from here.
“He’s better. He said to tell you hello. Oh, and he also said I should remind you about the snow thing.” He paused, shaking his head. “What’s that about anyway?”
“He wants snow for Christmas. I told him I’d see what I could do.” She folded her arms over her chest. Which meant she probably knew he’d been gawking at her breasts.
Great. Just great.
In addition to thinking he was naval lint, now she probably thought he was a pervert.
She checked the clock. “Colton was up late, huh? Is that usual for him?”
“It wasn’t that late. Not really. I dropped by his room around nine. Tucked him in. Kissed him good-night. And then I had to go to the clinic where the insemination will be done. That’s why I’m just now getting home.”
That, and the fact that he’d circled the block for the past forty-five minutes.
“Is there a problem at the clinic?” Ashley asked, some alarm in her eyes.
He shook his head. “The doctor met me after hours so I could do some paperwork. Plus, I needed to use the collection room,” he added, after clearing his throat.
Brayden saw the moment his meaning registered. “Oh. Got it.” She actually blushed, shuffled her feet, licked her lips and generally looked as uncomfortable as he felt. “No news on the tests I took earlier?”
“Nothing yet, but the doctor put a rush on them so we should know something before morning.”
“A rush?” she repeated.
“Yes. Because he was concerned that we might miss your ovulation. Which would mean waiting another month. Anyway, I told the lab to call though as soon as they had results. So, if you hear the phone, that’s probably who it’ll be. Once we know when you’ll be ovulating, then we can schedule the insemination.”
Of course, they’d have to verify that she was a suitable candidate for insemination first, but Brayden was hoping they’d get past that hurdle without any problems. That’s why he’d gone ahead with the collection so they would be prepared.
Ashley slid her fingers through her hair, ruffling it, and hiking up her top in the process so he could see even more of her stomach. Not that he wanted to see more. When her hair fell back in place, it somehow managed to look even hotter than it had before.
And that was Brayden’s cue to head to bed.
If her mussed hair and bare stomach were making him have dirty thoughts, then he didn’t need to be in the general vicinity of her.
It was probably just adrenaline or fatigue. Or the fact that his body was on alert because of his trip to the collection room.
“Collection room?” Ashley mumbled under her breath, and Brayden thought maybe he’d said that last part aloud. It gave him a moment of panic. But apparently he’d said aloud no such thing because Ashley didn’t looked astonished, only a little queasy.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Collection room,” she repeated. “Insemination. Sorry, but it all has sort of an ick factor to it.”
Okay. That helped with the raunchy thoughts, but it sent his stomach into a tailspin. “You haven’t changed your mind about doing this?”
“No. Oh, no. Of course not. It’s just…” She made a circular motion with her fingers as if she were trying to figure out how to explain what was on her mind. “The thought of it is a little, well, icky.” Another ruffling of her hair. “I’m not making any sense.”
“You are. I understand. There’s nothing natural about it.” And he should know. He was the one who’d been in that collection room.
Even though there was something about this, about Ashley, that felt natural.
Not in a comforting sort of way, either.
Brayden hitched his thumb toward his room, and he almost managed to say a good-night. Almost. But other than the lustful thoughts about her stomach, mouth and hair, he had one other thing on his mind.
“I haven’t thanked you—”
“Don’t,” Ashley interrupted, holding up her hand like a traffic cop. “It only makes me feel guilty.”
That was his line, and he was a little surprised to hear it coming from her. “Why does my thanking you make you feel guilty?”
But Brayden immediately winced at the question. Oh, man. Why had he asked that? He hoped this didn’t turn into a discussion about Dana.
“Because I keep cursing you for bringing me into this,” she explained. “I hate having so many changes, so many uncertainties in my life. And yet I know if our situations were reversed, I would have done the same thing. I would have come to you for help.”
It was almost a truce. Except it didn’t feel very peaceful. The old issues were still there.
Man, were they ever.
They hadn’t forgiven each other. They’d simply put those old issues on hold to do what they had to do.
Since the silence between them quickly became awkward, Brayden was actually thankful when the phone rang. He crossed the room and snatched it up. It was Dr. Underwood, the physician who’d be performing the insemination. When the doctor asked to speak to Ashley, Brayden realized her test results were probably in.
It was time to hold his breath.
Brayden handed her the phone and listened to Ashley’s monosyllabic responses.
Yes. Yes. Sure.
What she didn’t do was give anything away with her expression. They’d come to that first hurdle, and now he was praying they’d make it across.
“I see,” she said to the doctor. “What does that mean exactly?”
Still, her expression revealed nothing.
Okay, so he hadn’t intended to play this what if game, but her blank expression did it. Brayden couldn’t help but wonder what he was going to do if for some reason Ashley couldn’t be inseminated.
She finally said a goodbye, hung up and turned to him. “Everything is okay,” she relayed.
Brayden released the breath he’d been holding.
“According to the tests, I’m healthy and shouldn’t have any problems conceiving. In fact, I’ll be ovulating day after tomorrow.”
“That soon.” It was great news.
A little overwhelming.
But still great news.
“That soon,” she repeated, sounding overwhelmed, as well. “The doctor said I’ll need to have the insemination procedure done twice. Once at the onset of ovulation, and then it’ll be repeated in twenty-four hours to increase the chances of success.”
And success was what this was all about, Brayden reminded himself. Not the thick-as-lead tension simmering between Ashley and him.
“Three more days,” she mumbled. “And we’ll be finished with the insemination part.”
Not much enthusiasm. But he hadn’t expected it. “So you’ll stay here until then? I mean, I want you to stay here until then. Because it’d probably be easier than you flying back and forth to Virginia.”
And he was babbling like an idiot.
The corner of her mouth lifted a fraction. “Don’t worry, Brayden. I’m as uneasy about this as you are.” Her mouth slid right back into a somber line. “I do have some work that needs to be done on a case, but I can do that via computer, I guess. And then I can be home by the weekend.”
Rather than risk more babbling, he just nodded.
More silence. More awkwardness. Until finally Ashley moved. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Yes. She would. In fact, they’d be seeing each other for at least three more mornings. And perhaps even some mornings after that if she decided to stay until they had the results of the pregnancy test.
Somehow, he’d have to make himself immune to her choice of sleepwear, or the next three mornings would be hell.
Brayden waited until he heard her close the guest-room door before he went to his own room. The bone-weary fatigue was to the point where he had to get some sleep, or he wouldn’t be able to function. He stripped off his shoulder holster, shirt and pants, and then turned on the CD player next to the bed.
He kept the volume low, barely loud enough for him to hear Bruce Springsteen belt out a few lines of “I’m on Fire.” Since that was a little too close to music imitating life Brayden reached for the button to skip that particular song.
Car lights swept past his window.
A late-night vehicle wasn’t a complete anomaly in his neighborhood since some of the people on the block did shift work, but the fact that it seemed to be moving so slowly caused Brayden to go to the window. He lifted the curtain a fraction and looked out.
It was a dark van.
Very similar to one that had been in the hospital parking lot earlier that day.
The one that had frightened Ashley.
He drew his weapon. And watched.
Since it was crawling at a snail’s pace, Brayden waited until it crossed directly under the streetlight, and he saw the numbers on the license plate. He jotted them down, and without taking his attention off the vehicle, he called headquarters and asked one of the detectives to run the plates.
“Call me back as soon as you have something,” Brayden instructed.
He hung up and continued to watch until the van slipped out of sight. Still, Brayden didn’t relax. There was something about the vehicle that sent his body on full alert.
His vigilance paid off because several minutes later, he saw the lights again.
It was the same van.
The adrenaline pumped through him. Preparing him, in case there was a fight.
Was this the stalker who’d been after Ashley? He’d taken precautions, yes, but a lot of people had to know she was back in town. It was impossible to keep something like that a secret.

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