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
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.
