Ashley spent most of the day studying and sleeping. Around three, the sitter, one of Maggie's preschool teachers, dropped off her daughter.
"Tell me about your day," she said when the sitter had left after refusing payment.
"Cathy read us a whole book and I colored in the number book and we talked about our trip to the zoo next week." Maggie shared the bounty of her experiences over a tuna sandwich.
Ashley listened with half an ear, all the while trying to figure out how to raise the issue of payment with her host. It was one thing to stay in his house, but it was quite another for him to take financial responsibility for Maggie's child care. It's not as if he were the girl's father. In fact, Damian had never once contributed a penny. She rubbed her temples. Thinking about Damian would only make her sad and frustrate her in equal measures, so she wouldn't. And she vowed to talk to Jeff later about him paying for things that he shouldn't.
Maggie swallowed her mouthful of food. "Mommy, are you coming with us to the zoo?" her daughter asked. "Cathy said we need extra grown-ups and I couldn't 'member if you have school."
Blue eyes stared beseechingly. Ashley couldn't help smiling, then touching her daughter's cheek. "I don't have classes, and if Cathy needs help I would be delighted to come along. I love seeing all the animals at the zoo."
"Do they gots kittens?"
"Maybe some really big ones."
"I wish Uncle Jeff had kittens."
"I know you do, sweetie, but he doesn't." She hesitated, not sure how to find out if her daughter was comfortable without scaring her by the question. "Do you miss our apartment?"
"A little."
Maggie drank her milk. The clips Jeff had put in her hair that morning were still crooked. Still, it had been very sweet of him to try.
"I like staying here with Uncle Jeff," Maggie volunteered. "He's very nice." She gave her mother an innocent smile. "Uncle Jeff likes cake. We could make him one."
Ashley couldn't help wondering how much her daughter's generosity had to do with her own affection for the dessert. Although baking something would be a nice gesture, a small thank-you for his kindnesses. She could even make dinner. Her car had been delivered earlier that afternoon. They could make a quick trip to the store and get everything they'd need.
"You know, munchkin," she said, lifting her daughter down from her chair and tapping the tip of her nose, "that's a very good idea. Let me call Jeff's office and see what time he's going to be home. Then we can make a special cake and a special dinner for him."
She found the business card he'd left her and called his office. When she was put through to Brenda, she asked his assistant what time he would be heading home. Brenda put her on hold while she checked with him. As Ashley listened to the soft music, she had the sudden thought that this was all too weird. Would he think she was cooking for him to capture his interest? The way to a man's heart and all that?
Heat flared on her cheeks. She longed to hang up, but it was too late for that. Brenda already knew it was her on the line. She would have to say that she was offering a thank-you and nothing more.
"He said he'll be home at six-thirty," Brenda announced cheerfully.
"Ah, thanks." Ashley wanted to explain but doubted Jeff's assistant cared one way or the other. She hung up and started her shopping list. She would make sure that Jeff understood everything when he got home.
The chocolate cake turned out perfectly. Maggie insisted on helping with the frosting, which meant there were uneven patches and more sticky chocolate on her arms and face than on the cake itself. Ashley had settled on meat loaf for dinner. It was easy and something most people liked. Plus she had a limited supply of cash that wasn't going to cover anything expensive, such as steaks.
She checked the potatoes and steaming green beans, then glanced at the clock. Jeff was due any second.
"Just enough time to get you cleaned up, young lady," she said, taking the rubber spatula from her daughter's hand and urging her toward the sink.
Just then Ashley heard the door to the garage open. Unexpectedly her heart rate doubled and her throat seemed to close up a little.
His footsteps sounded on the wood floor. She froze in the center of the kitchen, not sure if she should dash for cover or brazenly stand her ground and greet him. The confusion didn't make any sense. Why was she suddenly nervous? Nothing had changed.
Jeff entered the kitchen. He glanced at the pots on the stove, at the cake, then looked at Maggie, covered in chocolate frosting and grinning.
"We made you a surprise," the four-year-old announced.
"I can see that," he told her, and turned his attention to Ashley. "How do you feel?"
She swallowed. It was as if he could see through to her soul, she thought, wondering if she would melt under the intensity of his attention. Heat flared again, but this time it wasn't just on her face. Instead her entire body felt hot. As if she'd just stepped into a sauna.
"Better, thanks," she said, hoping her voice sounded more steady than she felt. "I, ah, slept a lot, and studied. The worst of the virus is over." She forced herself to smile, then motioned to the stove. "I made dinner."
"You said you were going to when you called Brenda."
She ducked her head. "Yes, well, I didn't think before I called. I'm sorry. That was really dumb."
"Why?"
She glanced at him from under her lashes. She had a sudden awareness of him as a man. Had his shoulders always been that broad? Why hadn't she noticed before? Was it her illness? Had the flu blunted his effect on her, and if so, how could she get immunized against Jeff Ritter's appeal?
"Ashley?"
She blinked. Oh. He asked her a question. Yeah. Dinner. Why cooking it was dumb. "I didn't want you to feel obligated to come home."
One corner of his mouth quirked up. "I live here."
"I know that. I meant for dinner. You might have plans, or not want to eat with us. The cake was Maggie's idea." She glanced down at her daughter and saw that her four-year-old was following the conversation with undisguised interest.
He smiled at the girl. "It's a beautiful cake. Thank you."
Maggie brightened. "It's really good. Mommy won't let me eat the batter 'cause of eggs, but I licked the frosting and it's perfect."
"Good." He looked back at her. "So what's for dinner?"
"Meat loaf. Mashed potatoes and gravy. Green beans."
"Sounds great. Let me go wash up and I'll join you."
"You will?"
"Unless you don't want me to."
She forced herself to take a deep breath. "No. It would be nice to have you eat with us. Really."
He nodded and left the room. Ashley groaned softly. When had she turned into an idiot? Just this morning she'd had a completely normal conversation with the man. Now she was acting like a freshman with a crush on the football captain. She'd lost her mind, and if she wanted to act like a mature adult, she was going to have to find it again, and fast!
Jeff focused on the report in front of him but he couldn't force any of the words to make sense. He would swear that even from half a house away, he could hear laughter drifting down the stairs and into his study. Earlier he'd heard running water as Ashley prepared her daughter's bath. The nightly routine was as foreign to him as life on another planet, and yet observing it from a distance made him ache inside.
He wanted with a power that nearly drove him to his knees, yet he couldn't for the life of him say what he wanted. Connection had never been his strength. Hadn't Nicole told him that dozens of times before she'd left him? Hadn't she hurled the accusation across nearly every argument they'd had? That he'd changed, that he wasn't the man she'd married, that he didn't belong?
And he hadn't belonged with her. In the end, nothing about their life together had been able to touch him. It had been easy when she'd walked away. Or so he'd thought until tonight. Until the laughter of a child and her mother made him wonder what it would have been like if things had been different. If he'd been different.
An ache formed inside of him. Deep and dark, it filled him until he couldn't breathe without the emptiness threatening to suck him into a void. He gripped the edge of his desk so tightly, he thought he might snap the sturdy wood… or perhaps a bone in his fingers.
"Uncle Jeff?"
The soft voice made him look up. Maggie stood in the entrance to his study. She wore a pink nightgown under a purple robe. Snowball held the place of honor in her arms. The little girl was freshly scrubbed from her bath, her curls fluffed around her face.
Uncle Jeff. He'd offered that as a substitute for "Mr. Ritter", which had seemed too formal for their present circumstances. Now he questioned the wisdom of claiming a connection where none existed. She would get the wrong idea. Or perhaps it was himself he had to worry about. Perhaps he would be the one to presume affection where there wasn't any. He must never forget who and what he was.
"Are you ready for bed?" he asked, forcing himself to smile at her as if nothing was wrong.
Ashley stepped into the doorway, her hand resting on her daughter's shoulder. "Sorry to disturb you, but she wanted to say good-night."
"Neither of you are interrupting. Sleep well, Maggie."
She bounced free of her mother's restraining hand and raced over to where he sat. Before he knew what she was about, she flung her little arms around his neck and squeezed tight.
She smelled of baby shampoo and honey-scented soap. She was warm and small and so damn trusting. Awkwardly he hugged her back, trying not to press too hard or frighten her in any way. She released him and beamed, then scurried from the room. Ashley lingered.
"Do you mind if we talk for a second?" she said. "After I get her in bed."
"Whenever you'd like."
He tried not to notice how the heat from the bath had flushed her face, nor the way her sweater hugged her feminine curves. He doubted she had all her energy back, but she no longer looked sick.
"Thanks. Give me about fifteen minutes." She turned and left.
Desire filled him. Desire and sexual need. They were both primal and difficult to dismiss. Most of the time he could use work to distract himself from a difficult situation. But not with Ashley. She haunted his thoughts at the office and at his house when he was home. He couldn't forget about her when she walked the halls of the house, leaving proof of her presence in a sound, a scent, a discarded sweater or an open textbook. He had no place to retreat.
However, time and practice had taught him that bodily needs were easily controlled. He'd learned to function without sleep, food or water, while in pain, under stress or physically compromised. Surely he could figure out a way to survive the presence of one woman, regardless of how much she appealed to him. If nothing else, imagining her horror when she figured out the truth about him would be enough to keep his thoughts and actions under control.
Ashley forced herself to take a deep breath before entering Jeff's study. Her sudden attraction to him hadn't gone away over dinner. The only thing she could figure was that she'd been so sick when she'd first met him that she hadn't noticed the appeal of the man or her own weakness where he was concerned. Now that the virus was under control, she was able to feel the pull. Which made for a great science experiment, but didn't help her current situation: how to get through a conversation with him and not act like an idiot.
Practice, she thought desperately. Maybe this was a case of practice making perfect. That decided, or at least hoped for, she tapped on Jeff's open door and walked into his study.
The room was large, with beautiful bookcases on two walls and a bay window on the third wall, overlooking the garden. His wood desk was big enough to double as an extra bed, and two leather club chairs faced the imposing barrier.
Jeff looked up as she entered. He was still wearing his suit, although he'd taken off the jacket and loosened his tie. A few strands of hair fell across his forehead. They should have softened his appearance, but he was as formidable as always.
"Have a seat," he said, motioning to one of the empty club chairs.
She sank into the dark brown leather seat and tried to relax. She had an agenda and a purpose. She would do well to remember both and not think about how his gray eyes made her think of the sea during a storm or the way his long, strong fingers had looked as he briefly touched her daughter's hair. She wasn't sure if he was a kind man, but he was capable of kind acts. Did that make him any safer for her?
"You've been very good to us," she said, plunging in when it became apparent he wasn't going to speak first, which made sense-she'd been the one to request the meeting. "Putting us up, arranging for Maggie to get to school. It's not that I'm not grateful, it's just that there are some things I need to do myself."
He rose. "Are you taking any medication?"
She blinked at him. "What?"
"Are you taking anything for the flu? I was going to offer you a brandy."
"Oh. No. I'm feeling much better. A brandy would be nice."
It would also give her something to hold so she wouldn't have to worry about her fingers twisting together the way they were now.
He opened the doors of a cabinet built into one of the bookcases and withdrew a bottle of brandy along with two glasses.
"Go on with what you were saying. You need to be responsible for some things yourself. Can you be more specific?"
As he spoke, he poured, then handed her a glass. She took it, careful to keep her fingers from touching his. "Thanks. I was talking about the baby-sitter. When she dropped off Maggie she wouldn't let me pay her. That's not right."
He poured his own drink, then settled on a corner of the desk. Which meant he was closer to her than he'd been before. Which meant her heart had jumped into her throat, making it impossible to breathe or swallow.
"You have a point," he said.
"I do?"
He nodded.
She forced herself to be calm. Slowly she found herself breathing again. She even managed to take a tiny sip of the brandy. It was hot and wonderful as it burned its way down to her stomach.
"I didn't mean to take over your life," he said. "I'll give you an invoice for the baby-sitting expenses to date and you can reimburse me."
"I, ah, thank you," she said, surprised he'd seen her side so easily. She also wondered how many times she'd thanked the man since meeting him.
"Anything else?"
As in, did she want to talk about anything else, she supposed. She studied him, thinking that despite the beautiful home and the successful business, he was incredibly alone. Before she and Maggie arrived, there hadn't even been any food in the house. She sensed he lived for work and little else and found herself wondering why.
Of course there could be women, she reminded herself. Maybe it was her own wishful thinking that he spent a lot of time by himself. There could be dozens of girlfriends. But only the kind he didn't invite home, she thought. The house was too silent. There were no echoes of past voices and laughter.
"Ashley?"
"Huh? Oh, sorry. I was lost in thought."
"Want to tell me about what?"
"Not especially." She gave him a false smile, then said the first thing that popped into her mind. "I'm not a widow."
A slight raising of his left eyebrow was his only response.
She closed her eyes and wondered if that had sounded as stupid as she thought. "What I mean is that based on what I said before you probably think I'm a widow, and I'm not. Well, technically Damian is dead, but we divorced first. He died a few months later."
"All right."
She could see he was wondering what possible relevance that information had for him. "It's just that we'd talked about it before. Actually, Maggie mentioned it. She made it sound as if… well…" She cleared her throat and took another sip of her brandy.
"I, ah, should go now," she said, rising to her feet. "You have work and I-"
"You're welcome to stay," he said. "If you're feeling up to a little conversation."
"I-yes, that would be nice." She plopped back onto the seat and smiled. The man made her nervous, but with a little effort on her part, she was sure she could act fairly normal.
"Tell me about school," he said, moving around the desk and settling into his leather executive chair. "Why accounting?"
"It suits me," she said, consciously relaxing in her chair. "I've always enjoyed math and I'm basically an orderly person. I wanted a career that gave me flexibility with my time and didn't tie me down to a big city."
"You want to leave Seattle?"
"No, but I want the option in case that changes."
"Makes sense."
"I started college right out of high school, but with getting married and then getting pregnant, I wasn't able to finish as quickly as I would like."
"But you didn't give up."
He wasn't asking a question. His gray eyes seemed to see past her facade of quiet confidence-if that's what her facade was projecting.
"I'm not the giving-up kind," she admitted, and took another sip of her brandy.
Around them, the night was still. It wasn't raining and there wasn't any wind. In the distance she heard the faint sound of a car, but nothing else. While she and Jeff weren't the only people left in the world, there was an air of solitude in the study. As if they might be cut off from civilization. Oddly, that didn't seem like such a bad thing.
"Who taught you not to quit?" he asked.
She considered the question. "I didn't have a choice. If I'd given up, I wouldn't have survived."
"Why?"
She hesitated, not sure she was ready, or willing, to tell her life story to a virtual stranger. But, despite his emotional distance, Jeff was easy to talk to. Probably because she doubted she could say anything that would shock him. He'd seen and done so much more than she could ever imagine. Her life would be very small in comparison.
"I had a sister who was four years older than me. Margaret… Maggie. I adored her. My dad ran off before I was born, so it was just us three girls. At least that's what my mom used to say." She smiled sadly at the memory. "Mom worked really long hours. She was a waitress. She tried going back to school so she could do something else, but she couldn't make it. She was always so tired. She kept saying that she should have done it when she was young and that we should learn from her mistakes. Don't give up on college no matter what."
"You took her words to heart."
Ashley nodded. "They made a lot of sense."
He continued to study her. Was he taking her measure? Did he find her wanting? Lamplight touched his hair, illuminating the light strands. There wasn't any gold glinting there just pure blond. A muscle twitched in his cheek.
"You told me you don't have any family," he said. "Where are they now?"
Involuntarily she looked away, lowering her chin and biting her bottom lip. "Gone," she said softly. "Maggie was hit by a drunk driver when she was just sixteen. She and a couple of friends were walking home from the library. It was about nine in the evening and they'd been studying for midterms. All three girls were killed instantly." She hesitated. "It was a difficult time."
The simple sentence didn't begin to explain what she'd gone through. The shock-the incredible pain and disbelief. Her sister, her best friend, was gone.
She clutched the brandy glass in both hands. "Mom was never the same. She sort of disappeared into herself after that. A few months after Maggie died, Social Services put me in a foster home and my mom in a mental institution. One of the times they let her out for a weekend to visit with me, she killed herself."
Jeff didn't say anything. Ashley figured there wasn't all that much to say. She'd had more than her share of tragedy. Most of the time she was able to deal with it, but other times it threatened to drag her down.
"What happened after that?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I grew up in a series of foster homes. Most of them were pretty okay. The people tried to be nice and help me fit in. I had some counseling. I managed to make friends and keep up my grades. Unfortunately I had lousy taste in men. I had a series of loser boyfriends. They weren't mean-they just didn't get anything right."
"Including Damian?"
Ashley tried to remember the last time she'd talked about her past. She usually didn't say anything because there was no way to talk about it without making her life sound like a badly written soap opera. Now she found herself spilling her guts and she couldn't figure out why. She wasn't sure Jeff was even interested.
"Damian tried," she said. "But he wasn't what I wanted him to be. We met during my senior year of high school and I was so sure he was the one. I believed that he would love me unconditionally and forever."
"Is that what you wanted?"
The question startled her. "Of course. Doesn't everyone?"
"No," he said evenly.
Ashley stared in surprise. Who wouldn't want more love in their life? She thought about Jeff. He was a man who spent his life alone. Most likely by choice. But why?
She thought about asking, but she wasn't feeling that brave.
"Damian tried," she continued, picking up the thread of her story. "He cared about me, but he was too young and too much of a dreamer. He would rather scheme than work. He was always going to find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Unfortunately his dreams weren't practical, and when it came time to put food on the table, he took shortcuts. I don't know everything he was involved in, but I suspect it was all illegal. By the time I'd figured that out, we were married and I was pregnant. After Maggie was born, I told Damian he was going to have to change his ways or it would be over. It had been scary enough when it was just me, but with a child to consider-" she shook her head "-I couldn't do it."
She wondered if he would ask for details. She didn't want to talk about the strange men who had come to the house in the middle of the night, or the gun she'd found in her husband's coat pocket.
But Jeff didn't ask about that. Instead he said, "When he wouldn't go straight, you left him?"
"I didn't have a choice. I filed for divorce. Six months after it was final, he was killed in a car accident."
"You've been on your own ever since." Again, not a question.
She nodded.
He leaned forward and set his drink on the desk. "You're strong, Ashley. You've more than survived all that life has handed you-you've succeeded. Not many people can say that."
His kind words made her squirm. "I didn't have a choice. There was Maggie to think of."
"You named her after your sister."
"I love them both." She cleared her throat. "And things are looking up. In eighteen months I'll have my degree and I'll be able to get a real accounting job, with good pay. Maggie will be entering kindergarten. A couple of years after that, I'll be able to afford a town house for us. We'll be a regular family."
She was counting the days until that time. She was tired of watching every penny and stretching them until they snapped like rubber bands. She wanted to be able to buy her daughter pretty clothes and occasional dinners out. She wanted to go to the movies every couple of months and maybe even afford a trip to Disneyland.
That would come, she reminded herself. The worst of it was behind her. She would-
"I don't want you going back to work at Ritter/Rankin Security," Jeff said.
Her world shattered. In that second, as he spoke those few words, everything changed. Her throat tightened and her hands started to shake.
"Because I brought Maggie to work?" she asked, barely able to breathe, let alone speak. "But Jeff, you have to understand why."
"I do understand. Your schedule is impossible. You don't get any sleep. Your free time is spent studying and taking care of your daughter. You have no savings, no back-up. I'm amazed you've stayed as healthy as you have."
So why was he firing her? She needed the money and the benefits the job provided. Where else would she get such perfect hours and medical insurance for her child? Her eyes burned, but she refused to give in to the tears.
She set her glass on the desk and rose to her feet. "You can't fire me," she insisted. "Dammit, Jeff, I do good work. How can you do this-cutting me off without a way to support my child? I'll have to drop out of school. I-"
She couldn't go on. It was so unfair.
"You misunderstand me," he told her. "I'm not trying to make your situation worse. I'm offering you alternative employment. I would like to hire you as my housekeeper. You'll take care of things here-cooking, cleaning, whatever else there is to do. You can live here rent-free. In addition, I've spoken with my financial director. There is plenty of contract accounting work. If you're interested, you can do that to supplement your income. The combined amounts should give you about double what you're making now."
As usual, she couldn't read what he was thinking, but she had a good idea. No doubt he was pleased with himself for acting so magnanimous.
"So I'm your charity case for the month?" she asked. "It's an interesting practice, taking people off the street and fixing them. Will you do orphans next?"
"You're overreacting."
"Probably because I'm a woman, right?" She pressed her lips together to hold in the rage. He was playing with her. She didn't understand why, but she recognized the sensation of being manipulated.
"Your offer is generous," she told him. "But I'm not interested. Maggie and I will be fine without you. And we'll be leaving in the morning."