“I’m not moving anywhere.”

“Of course you are. To San Jose with me. How else can I take charge of you and the baby?”

Ashley took a breath. “I don’t need you taking charge. I can handle this on my own.”

Jason stared at her. “I seem to recall that I was in that bed with you.”

A startling heat suffused her at the memory. She looked his way and saw he was remembering, too.

She suppressed erotic images. “I’m prepared to take care of everything.”

“This is my baby as much as yours,” Jason countered. “You expect me to turn my back on it?”

“No, I just…”

Somehow his hand was on her arm, his fingers curling around, his thumb stroking. His focus had returned to her mouth, and if she didn’t break that visual contact, she was certain he’d kiss her….

Dear Reader,

This beautiful month of April we have six very special reads for you, starting with Falling for the Boss by Elizabeth Harbison, this month’s installment in our FAMILY BUSINESS continuity. Watch what happens when two star-crossed high school sweethearts get a second chance—only this time they’re on opposite sides of the boardroom table! Next, bestselling author RaeAnne Thayne pays us a wonderful and emotional visit in Special Edition with her new miniseries, THE COWBOYS OF COLD CREEK. In Light the Stars, the first book in the series, a frazzled single father is shocked to hear that his mother (not to mention babysitter) eloped—with a supposed scam artist. So what is he to do when said scam artist’s lovely daughter turns up on his doorstep? Find out (and don’t miss next month’s book in this series, Dancing in the Moonlight). In Patricia McLinn’s What Are Friends For?, the first in her SEASONS IN A SMALL TOWN duet, a female police officer is reunited—with the guy who got away. Maybe she’ll be able to detain him this time….

Jessica Bird concludes her MOOREHOUSE LEGACY series with From the First, in which Alex Moorehouse finally might get the woman he could never stop wanting. Only problem is, she’s a recent widow—and her late husband was Alex’s best friend. In Karen Sandler’s Her Baby’s Hero, a couple looks for that happy ending even though the second time they meet, she’s six months’ pregnant with his twins! And in The Last Cowboy by Crystal Green, a woman desperate for motherhood learns that “the last cowboy will make you a mother.” But real cowboys don’t exist anymore…or do they?

So enjoy, and don’t forget to come back next month. Everything will be in bloom….

Have fun.

Gail Chasan

Senior Editor

Her Baby’s Hero
Karen Sandler

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KAREN SANDLER

first caught the writing bug at age nine when, as a horse-crazy fourth grader, she wrote a poem about a pony named Tony. Many years of hard work later, she sold her first book (and she got that pony—although his name is Ben). She enjoys writing novels, short stories and screenplays and has produced two short films. She lives in Northern California with her husband of twenty-three years and two sons who are busy eating her out of house and home. You can reach Karen at karen@karensandler.net.

To all the kids who are different, who can’t sit still in

class, whose ideas would never fit inside a box.

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

Epilogue

Prologue

What had she done?

Clutching the covers to her naked body, Ashley Rand stared at Jason Kerrigan’s stony profile and tried to reason through what had just happened. Five minutes ago she was moaning with passion, now she wanted to shrink inside herself as the awkwardness washed over her.

His eyes fixed on the ceiling, he wouldn’t even look at her. Just as well; she wasn’t sure she could meet his gaze herself. They’d come to his apartment to drown their sorrows with a pizza and a couple beers, not jump into bed. Somehow a soothing neck rub had turned into torrid sex with a man she wasn’t even sure she liked half the time.

What now? Did she get up and get dressed, see if the pizza was still edible? Talk to him, make a joke about what they’d just done together?

She shut her eyes, wishing she could vanish and reappear in the ramshackle house she shared with three other women near the UC Berkeley campus. No chance she’d be able to creep into her bedroom unnoticed by her roommates, even at 2:00 a.m. They’d want all the gory details. But she didn’t understand the insanity of this interlude with Jason herself, never mind being able to muster an explanation for the avid audience of her housemates.

She glanced over at Jason again. She still couldn’t wrap her mind around what she was doing in bed with him.

Her friendship with the prickly, straitlaced twenty-eight-year-old grad student had arisen more through happenstance than common interest. They both tutored at-risk kids at a local high school. When Ashley’s finicky VW had broken down, Jason had offered her a ride. He’d all but refused to let her drive herself after that, his stubbornness so exasperating that it was easier just to go along with him.

Without a glance in her direction, he turned on his side, presenting her with his broad back. Her stomach roiled as he shut her out even further.

It had seemed so innocent a couple of hours ago. She’d been hit hard by the news that one of their students, a promising young man they’d been sure was college-bound, had been arrested for drug trafficking. Jason hadn’t betrayed the least emotion when she’d called him at midnight, but he’d been the one to suggest she come over for pizza and beer.

She couldn’t stand the silence anymore; she had to say something. The mortification was killing her.

She tightened her grip on the covers. “Jason—”

He pushed away from her and slid from the bed. In the glow of the small bedside lamp, she got one heart-stopping glance at his gorgeous backside before he yanked the bathroom door open and disappeared inside.

Anger bubbled within her at his brush-off. She wanted to march in there after him and give him a shake.

Or she could just leave. This might be her only chance to escape without confronting Jason at all. It didn’t seem right to simply ignore what had happened between them, but for once, she was perfectly content to take the coward’s way out.

Jumping from the bed, she scrambled through the room, gathering up her skirt and blouse. She found her pantyhose in the kitchen and her sandals in the living room. Within a few minutes, she was dressed and out the door.

As she drove through streets wet with spring rain, she contemplated her next move. Avoid Jason completely the last few months of school? Make light of their lovemaking, as if it hadn’t been the most mind-blowing pleasure she’d ever experienced? Or pretend it had never happened?

She’d decide tomorrow, when she saw him again. Let him take the lead. Stone-hearted Jason would likely go with option three. Fine. She could deal with that.

Even if it hurt.

Chapter One

She wanted to see him.

Jason Kerrigan tightened his grip on the wheel of his silver Mercedes as he headed up Interstate 80 toward Reno. Six months with no contact, then out of the blue a letter from Ashley Rand.

Not a letter. Little more than a note: “I need to talk to you,” neatly penned, followed by her name, address and phone number.

Surely she didn’t want to rehash that night at his apartment in Berkeley—not six months later. It might have been a mistake on a massive scale—never mind how incredible the sex had been—but he figured she’d said it all when she’d walked out without a word.

The tires squealed around another tight curve. He wrestled the car back into his lane as it hit the warning bumps. He’d just passed the town of Marbleville and from the Mercedes’s GPS system, he knew the Hart Valley exit was another seven miles ahead.

What could she possibly want? Was she in some kind of financial bind and needed money? She’d never seemed particularly impressed with his wealth, but necessity could be a strong motivator. If it was money she wanted, this would be a short reunion.

He didn’t have time for this. He should have pressed her harder to tell him what she wanted over the phone, saved him the six-hour round trip. Maybe she thought he’d have a harder time saying no to a loan face-to-face. Obviously, she’d never sat across the table from him in a business negotiation. Few executives in the high-tech industry relished a confrontation with Kerrigan Technology’s youngest CEO.

As a Bay Area native, tiny little backwater towns like Hart Valley weren’t exactly his cup of tea. Too many trees, too much dirt and likely everyone stuck their noses in everyone else’s private lives. No matter what Ashley had to say, he wouldn’t be staying long. He’d brought a change of clothes and his computer—he didn’t go anywhere without his laptop—but he intended to finish his business with Ashley this afternoon and get home before his brother’s bedtime at nine.

He spotted the sign for Hart Valley and pulled onto the exit ramp. A quick glance at the directions and he turned right, toward town. That much closer to Ashley and clearing up whatever she thought was so important he had to drive 170 miles to hear.

Even slowing to twenty-five, he was through the small town of Hart Valley in less than a minute. Which meant he was less than six minutes away from Ashley’s sister’s place, according to the GPS.

It was possible she wouldn’t be there. He hadn’t been able to guarantee he’d drive up this Friday afternoon. “Tentatively,” he’d said, then when he’d called her back to confirm, he’d had to leave a message on her cell’s voice mail.

So what if she wasn’t there? He couldn’t see himself sitting around at her home located in the back of beyond waiting for her. But to turn around and return to San José without seeing her didn’t seem right, either. He’d committed himself to this visit; he’d follow through.

Stoney Creek Road came up quicker than he expected, and he had to hit the brakes to keep from missing the turn. According to the GPS, 2.2 more miles, then he’d arrive at the NJN Ranch. A knot tightened in his chest.

He slowed as the Mercedes’s trip meter counted out 1.8 miles and he watched for the address. This wasn’t like the city, with houses crammed side by side, all of them identified clearly with numbers painted on the front. The few addresses he’d seen along Stoney Creek were scrawled haphazardly on scraps of wood or on fence posts. They didn’t seem to go in any order, either.

Luckily, the ranch had a large wrought-iron sign over the front entrance, the letters NJN prominent enough he couldn’t miss it. As he turned onto the gravel drive, creeping along its bumpy surface, he saw a large, covered arena and a barn on the hill beyond it. He parked beside a silver hatchback and shut off the engine.

He glanced at his watch, then checked his PDA for new e-mail. Even in the few hours he’d been gone, it had piled up, just another reminder that this trip to indulge whatever nonsense Ashley had to share with him pulled him away from more important issues. Like whether Kerrigan Technology’s recovery from its financial woes would continue or if the mistakes his late father had made would take it under.

Dropping the PDA on the seat, he climbed out of the car and by reflex hit the alarm button on his key chain. Taking a look around him at a vista filled with trees and grazing horses, he unlocked the car again.

There was a small house at the far end of the arena, an odd octagonal structure. As he started across the parking area toward it, a woman emerged from the front door, her face, her movements vaguely familiar. His heart rate accelerated, a knee-jerk response to those white-hot moments six months ago. When he got a better look at the woman, though, he realized it wasn’t Ashley after all. Her hair was darker than Ashley’s strawberry-blond and she wasn’t as slender.

“Can I help you?” She gave him a businesslike smile as she shook his hand. “I’m Sara Delacroix, director of the Rescued Hearts Riding School.”

A flicker of motion through the front window of the house distracted him. Was that Ashley?

“Sir?” Sara repeated.

“Sorry.” He kept his gaze on that window. “I’m Jason Kerrigan.”

Sara moved between him and the house. “What can I do for you?” There was an edge to her tone now.

Irritation welled up in him. “She’s expecting me.”

“She’s my sister.” Sara’s hazel eyes narrowed. “She never mentioned you were coming.”

“Is Ashley here?”

Silence stretched as Sara speared him with her gaze. “Just a minute.”

She strode back toward the house and gave the door a peremptory knock before she opened it. Feminine voices drifted toward him, then Sara stepped out and motioned to him. As he walked toward the house, he heard Sara ask, “Do you want me to stay?” then heard a soft no in response.

Sara gave him a dark look as she passed him, and when he glanced at her over his shoulder, she still had her eye on him. He ignored her, starting toward the house.

Sara had left the door slightly ajar, and he started to push it open. He could almost see his long-dead mother wagging a scolding finger at him. Biting back impatience, he knocked and waited.

She had to be just inside, but several seconds dragged by before the door finally moved. When Ashley stepped clear, his world narrowed on that first glimpse of her face.

He’d remembered her as attractive, but her brains had placed her above most of the gorgeous women at school who couldn’t resist the allure of his money. What he hadn’t recalled was the silkiness of that strawberry-blond hair, how enticing her soft brown eyes were.

Then his gaze drifted down, giving in to the impulse to take in all of her. If her face had sent his imagination racing, his first sight of her body stopped it in his tracks. He understood that what she’d called him up here to discuss was far more complex than money.

Ashley Rand was obviously, noticeably, most certainly pregnant. And if he’d learned any math at all back at Stanford and Berkeley, the baby was his.

How could she have thought she’d ever be ready to face Jason Kerrigan again? Standing just across her threshold, he looked even more stiff and formal and coldhearted than she remembered back at Berkeley. His neat, gray polo shirt and impeccably creased charcoal slacks screamed boardroom rather than backwoods ranch. No doubt, dirt wouldn’t dare come to rest on that pristine fabric.

“Hello,” she said, at a loss as to how to muster any other greeting.

He didn’t answer, his gaze fixing for a moment on her face before it dropped again to her six-months-pregnant belly. Under his scrutiny, a nausea kicked up that rivaled her eight weeks of morning sickness. She had to resist the urge to shut the door in his face.

His perfect patrician brow furrowed. “We used a condom.”

She tried to smile, but her face felt too stiff. “Best-laid plans.”

His gaze locked with hers. “Why did it take so damn long to tell me?”

“Everything about that night was a mistake. I wasn’t keen to revisit it.”

His jaw worked. “I still had a right to know.”

She should have called him the moment the test stick turned blue. But sometimes she could hardly believe that night had actually happened, that two near strangers—barely friends—had burned for each other that way. Then, after the ultrasound and Dr. Karpoor’s startling news, she’d needed time to wrap her mind around her predicament, time to get past the panic. It had taken her this long to get up the courage to call.

Even now she was reluctant to share the miracle inside her. “How do you know it’s yours?”

He didn’t even blink. “It’s mine.”

She dug her heels in at his arrogance. “How can you be sure? I wasn’t a virgin.”

He fixed her with his dark eyes. “You might as well have been.”

While she reeled at that bald assessment, he looked past her into the house. “Can I come in?”

Again the impulse surged inside her to shut the door. If she ignored him, maybe he’d leave, then she could pack everything up in her bug and disappear. She certainly had enough experience disappearing.

But things were different now. She started teaching at Hart Valley Elementary in another week, had a classroom full of second-graders to educate. It was what she’d trained for these past several years at Berkeley. Not to mention Sara and her new baby. How could she leave her sister and nephew behind?

He put a foot up on the threshold. “We need to talk about this, Ashley.”

She imagined Jason stepping inside, the small space filled with his presence. Back at Berkeley—until that night—she’d never entertained the least lascivious thought about Jason. But now memories crowded her mind, his skin against hers, his mouth everywhere. The images overwhelmed her. She would be an idiot to allow him into the close quarters of her quirky octagonal house.

She needed a chance to get her head on straight again, to reestablish Jason as the prickly, straitlaced man she recalled from school. Anything else she might be feeling was just hormones and not worth crediting.

Pulling the door shut behind her, she squeezed past him onto the deck of the front porch. “Let’s take a walk.”

He followed her down the porch steps and toward the pasture and paddocks where the horses dozed. As they passed the tack room, she grabbed the brand-new bucket of treats Sara had left there. Before she’d gone more than a step, Jason plucked it out of her hand. “You shouldn’t be carrying anything heavy.”

She tried to take it back. “It can’t be more than five pounds.”

He pulled it out of her reach and read the label. “Five point five.”

She would have wrested it from him, but the last thing she needed was a tug-of-war. Giving up the battle, she continued toward the paddocks. He gestured for her to go first when the walkway narrowed around the corner of the covered arena, and she made sure to keep her distance. Up the hill, the horses had noticed their approach and stood at attention in their paddocks.

In early September, the Sierra foothills still shimmered with heat. The grass on the rolling pasture that had glowed a vivid green in the spring lay drooping and yellowed now. September’s shorter day was a relief, but at four in the afternoon, sunset was still a few hours away.

They arrived at the first gate to the pasture area. He put a hand out to stop her as she reached for the latch. “How far along?”

She bit back her irritation. “You can count as well as I can.”

He pushed open the gate before she could. “Six months, then.” He studied her swollen belly. “You’re pretty big.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

When she reached to shut and latch the gate again, he stood in her way to do it for her. The temptation to give him a poke rose up inside her, but that would mean touching him. She wasn’t touching him. “I’m not an invalid, for heaven’s sake.”

“I know.” His gaze moved from her face down the length of her, and despite her swollen body, she felt a trace of heat in the wake of his scrutiny. She’d heard sometimes women were more easily aroused during pregnancy, but she hadn’t believed it, until now. Maybe rampant prenatal hormones explained the baffling attraction she felt for him.

Not that he wasn’t easy on the eyes. He was as close to beautiful as a man could be, lean but muscular, with high cheekbones and deep brown eyes that had always fascinated her. There were lines bracketing his full mouth that hadn’t been there back at school and a new burden on those broad shoulders. She suspected she knew what weighed him down but wanted to see if he’d bring it up on his own.

One of the horses nickered, then the other five joined in. “They’re waiting,” she said, hand outstretched for the treats.

He pulled them out of reach. “I’ve got them.”

Resolute, she grabbed the handle and tugged, but he wouldn’t relinquish the bucket. They might as well have been a couple of two-year-olds fighting over a toy.

“I can carry it,” she said through gritted teeth.

With his free hand, he loosened her grip. As she lost her purchase on the handle, she tried to hold on to her irritation, but his warm touch distracted her. His fingers enfolded hers and his thumb traced one slow circle on her palm. She felt his arm tense as if he intended to pull her closer.

Then one of the horses called again and he dropped her hand. “Sorry.” Turning on his heel, he strode toward the paddocks. Her heart hammering, Ashley headed up the hill after him.

Once he had the bucket open, she gathered up a handful of treats and walked along the line of horses. As the white pony neatly lifted a treat from her palm, the question that had been burning inside her worked its way out. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His dark gaze fixed on her. “Tell you what?”

She wanted to pound her fists on his chest. “About your father.”

Not a speck of emotion in his face. “What would it have mattered?”

“We were friends.”

“We were barely that.”

It was true, wasn’t it? But it cut so deeply. Especially considering the life growing inside her. “But you just left without a word.”

His gaze drifted to the trees beyond the paddocks. “You left first.” He said it matter-of-factly.

“I left your bed that night,” she conceded. “But you left school.”

He pinned her with his gaze, his expression opaque. “I had business to attend to.”

“I had to find out in the newspapers that your father died.” Shock enough that he had left without a word, doubly painful that he hadn’t shared the reason. “If I’d known—”

“What? You might have stayed until morning?”

If she didn’t know better, she’d think it mattered to him. But she knew nothing scratched very deeply beneath Jason’s surface.

Typical Jason to put her on the defensive. “I needed to think things through. We had one kind of relationship and then…” Their passion that night had completely knocked their casual friendship off its tracks. “I thought I’d have time to find you, to talk to you.”

His jaw worked as he looked past her at the pines and cedars beyond the paddocks. “So did I.”

When she’d fed the last horse his second share of treats, she brushed her hands off and started back toward the gate. She didn’t even bother trying to open and close it herself, just waited for Jason to do it for her. With so much unfinished business prickling between them, she didn’t want to add to the tension by fussing over the trivial.

Despite his abrupt departure from school six months ago, she had only to glimpse the rigid determination in his face to realize Jason wouldn’t just vanish from her life today. Likely he’d want some kind of resolution in triplicate detailing every iota of his obligation.

What had she expected? She’d called to invite him here, to inform him she was pregnant because she thought he ought to know. He was here, they’d hash out whatever details they had to hash, then he’d leave again. The sooner she got to it, the sooner he’d go.

Ashley forced a smile. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Are we going to talk about this?”

“Of course.” Her jaw ached from clenching it.

He returned the treats to the tack room as they passed, then continued on with her toward the house. He paused at the porch steps. “It looked octagonal from the front.”

“It was, when Sara lived here.” She moved past him toward the front door. “Then her husband, Keith, added the back bedroom.”

Ashley had originally planned to make that room the nursery, but after the doctor’s bombshell, she’d realized it would be too small. So she’d regretfully given up the larger bedroom, knowing that the nursery would need the bigger space.

Jason followed her into the coolness of the house, his presence as imposing as she’d known it would be. As he took in the comfortable, well-worn sofa and recliner in the living room and the red vinyl chairs and Formica table in the breakfast nook, Ashley edged past him into the small kitchen.

Digging in the refrigerator, she unearthed a can of cola from the back. When she turned to hand it to him, he was right behind her. Her arm brushed against him before she could take a step back.

“Sorry,” he said, although he didn’t move. If she wanted some space, she’d have to make it herself. But his fingers grazed hers as he took the soda can, and she leaned toward him instead of away.

The pop of the can tab jolted her out of her daze. Sidling past him, she headed for the living room, where she’d left the bottle of water she’d been sipping while she and Sara visited. Her throat felt dry as dust.

Jason followed and stationed himself in the middle of the living room. Not sure what to do next, Ashley took a long swallow of water, then stood with the bottle chilling her hands.

His gaze dropped to her belly. She couldn’t blame him. Its size astounded her, too, when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Not exactly what she’d intended for her first year of teaching.

He lifted his gaze to her face. “Six months, Ashley. Why so long?”

“You disappeared. I couldn’t find you.”

“You knew how to contact me.”

She did. As the young CEO of high-flying Kerrigan Technology, Jason wasn’t exactly low profile. “When I found out…I wanted to wait a few weeks, to make sure.”

“And then?”

Then she saw the ultrasound. And for a week she could barely think at all. “You left, Jason. I wasn’t sure what that meant.”

“It didn’t mean anything.”

“And neither did we, is that it?”

“The reason I left had nothing to do with you and me.”

“There was no you and me.” She felt faintly ill, but it had nothing to do with morning sickness. “We both know that.”

He just stared, jaw taut. “I had to handle my father’s estate. Things were complicated.”

She waited for more, but it seemed that was all he was willing to reveal. “So where do we go from here?”

He took a drink of his soda. “How long will it take you to pack?”

Of all the questions she might have expected, that wasn’t one of them. “Pack?”

“You’ll only need enough to tide you over for a week or so. I can send movers to pick up the rest.”

A string of memories flooded her mind—Sara coming home in a panic, dragging Ashley along as they packed up everything they owned. Piling it all in the car and racing out into the night, a day away from danger or only an hour.

But those times were over. “I’m not moving anywhere.”

“Of course you are. To San José with me.”

“No. I live here.”

“How else can I take charge of you and the baby?”

She took a breath. “I don’t need you taking charge.”

His hand tightened on the soda can, bending it slightly. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I can handle this on my own.”

He stared at her as if she’d sprouted a second head. “I seem to recall I was in that bed with you.”

A startling heat suffused her at the memory—his body over hers, his mouth, his hands touching her everywhere. She chanced a look his way and saw he was remembering, too. His brown eyes darkened, nearly black as his gaze dropped to her mouth.

She suppressed the erotic images. “I’m prepared to take care of everything.”

He took a step toward her. “I’m just as responsible for this child as you are.”

She should have backed away, but she held her ground. “You don’t have to be.”

“Of course I do!” Another step closer. “This is my baby just as much as yours. You expect me to turn my back on it?”

“No, I just…”

Somehow his hand was on her arm, his fingers curling around, his thumb stroking. His focus had returned to her mouth, and she was certain if she didn’t break that visual contact, he’d kiss her.

She backed out of reach. “You’re right. You need to be involved.”

“Then you’ll come to San José.”

“Absolutely not.”

He flung his arms out in frustration, sending soda spurting. Slamming the can on a side table, he rounded on her. “My house is twenty times this size. The medical care in the Bay Area is head and shoulders above anything this Podunk town can offer.”

She shook her head. “This is my home.”

He started to reach for her, then dropped his hands. “Be reasonable, Ashley.”

Irritation bubbled up inside her. “I have family here, a job that starts a week from Monday. I’m not uprooting myself for you.”

“What about for the baby?”

“We’ll be fine here.”

“I’m responsible.” Raking a hand through his dark-blond hair, he paced away, then turned back toward her. “For both of you.”

“I can’t leave, Jason.”

He paced away again, toward the kitchen and back, agitation tightening his shoulders. So many other men would have been thrilled to be let off the hook so easily, but from the little that Ashley had learned about Jason those months at Berkeley, duty wasn’t something he could easily let go.

He confronted her again, determination settling in his face. “Then I’ll stay here.”

“What?” She shook her head in confusion. “Where?”

“If you won’t come to San José—” his hands squeezed briefly into fists, then relaxed “—then I’m staying here, in Hart Valley.”

Chapter Two

Would Ashley call his bluff?

She had to know he wouldn’t take no for an answer, that he wasn’t going anywhere without her. If she believed he’d stay right here, take up residence on her turf, would that be enough to bring her to her senses? Convince her to pack up her things, climb in his Mercedes and return to San José with him?

It sure as hell had better. Because staying here in Small Town, USA, was most certainly not on his agenda. With Kerrigan Technology still struggling out of its financial doldrums, his father’s estate still in a mess, he didn’t have time to play country boy.

He focused on Ashley, on her delicate face, the lines softened by pregnancy, her belly large with child. His child. His responsibility. He had a duty to protect her and the child she carried, whether she liked it or not. The moment she had stepped from her house, pregnant with his baby, his obligations had extended beyond just his brother, Steven, and his stepmother, Maureen, to encompass Ashley and the life inside her. He couldn’t—would never—turn his back on that obligation.

Her gaze narrowed on him. “I’m not leaving.”

“I’m not, either.”

She tipped up her chin. “Then stay.”

Okay, this might take a little time. He made a quick mental assessment of his weekend and decided he might have a day or two of wiggle room in which to work on Ashley. She’d always been a sensible woman, surely she would see reason if he made a clear case to her.

He motioned toward the sofa. “Sit down.” He took a breath. “Please.”

She eyed him warily, edging around him to the far end of the sofa. When she groped behind her for the sofa arm, he couldn’t just stand there and let her flop back onto the cushions. He took her hand to help her down.

The warmth of her skin against his was a shock. Her wide brown eyes locked with his, stirring up memories he’d buried away six months ago. He forced himself to release her, then eased himself into the adjacent armchair.

She rubbed her palms together. “Don’t you have a business to run?”

What waited for him at home pressed down on him, but he shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “What did you expect, Ashley? That I’d take one look at you and run?”

Color rose in her cheeks. “I didn’t think that far ahead.”

Obviously, she wasn’t thinking now, considering her adamant insistence on staying. He’d have her convinced by tomorrow.

“How long?” She smoothed her skirt over her rounded belly. A maternity dress shouldn’t look so sexy, but there was something about the swirl of colors, her slender hands, that stirred heat inside him.

Heat that hazed his thoughts. “What?”

“For the weekend?”

“We need time to work out the particulars.”

Her lips compressed. She didn’t like that answer. “You’re not staying here.”

He looked around at the tiny space, imagined sharing it with Ashley. They’d be shoulder to shoulder, brushing up against each other at every turn, in each other’s space. Touching, breathing each other’s air.

“No. Of course not.” He suppressed his body’s reaction. “Where do you suggest?”

“The Hart Valley Inn.” As she hooked a strand of silky hair behind her ear, her hand shook. “Pretty much the only place to stay unless you want to go down to Marbleville.”

Better to stay as close to her as possible. All the better to keep the pressure on. He needed to tie things up as quickly as he could, get back to San José.

Fate had just wrenched his life into a sharp U-turn, not toward disaster as it had twenty years ago, but toward…something new. Unexpected. He didn’t like surprises.

He just needed time to wrap his mind around it, to understand how his world had lurched into unpredictability. He’d learned twenty years ago that if he didn’t want the rug pulled out from under him, he’d better keep himself in line, have every detail worked out completely. Otherwise, chaos would sit on his doorstep.

Ashley’s brown eyes drew him, tugged at something inside him. Without a mother for so long, he never learned the knack for giving comfort, had never considered it something expected of him. That was a woman’s purview. But Ashley’s troubled gaze drove him to reach for her.

He folded her hand in his, intending to give her a pat, a smile to ease her. But the moment he touched her, his world shifted again, lust and a baffling longing wrestling inside him.

With the chair and sofa sitting at right angles, his knees nearly brushed hers. The lightweight fabric of her flowery dress shaped her legs, tempting him to run a hand along her still-slender thigh. It might have only been one night, a cataclysmic hour of lovemaking, but he remembered distinctly the feel of her taut skin as he trailed his fingers up to that sweet mystery shrouded in rose-gold curls.

His heart pounded in his ears as he leaned closer, fitting his knee between hers. Balancing on the edge of the chair, he lifted his hand to curl around the back of her neck, threading his fingers into her hair. Her wide brown eyes fixed on him, the heat in them unmistakable. Her lips parted, inviting him in, begging him to brush his mouth against them.

He was near enough to hear her breathing, to catch a trace of her scent. Her inner thigh felt impossibly hot against his leg and an urgency to press her back against the sofa, to cover her body with his exploded inside him.

He let go of her hand, intent on exploring her body. But the terrain had changed, and with the first light contact against her rounded belly, he froze. She’s pregnant! What the hell are you doing?

He pushed back, jumping to his feet. “God, I’m sorry.”

She just stared at him, looking as stunned as he felt. Color had risen in her cheeks, whether from embarrassment or arousal he didn’t want to consider.

“I had no right to touch you.”

Her chest rose as she took in a breath. “No, you didn’t.”

“But my intentions here…” He struggled to frame what he wanted to say. “My only purpose here is to fulfill my obligations. There won’t be any other relationship between us.”

She tipped up her chin. “Of course not.”

Feeling like a complete idiot, he edged toward the door. “I should go. Get myself set up at the inn.”

When she started to push to her feet, he motioned her back down. “I’ll call you.” He shoved open the door and let himself out into the afternoon sunshine.

He didn’t let himself think until he’d pulled the Mercedes back onto the road. He had a to-do list a mile long in his PDA, most of which he could take care of with his laptop and a data line. He’d have to call his stepmother, Maureen, and his brother’s caretaker, Harold. He’d only brought one change of clothes, so a trip down to that big box store in Marbleville would be in order. Shopping somewhere that didn’t stock Gucci and Armani would horrify his stepmother, but he doubted anyone in Hart Valley would notice the lack of designer labels.

Could he reach his attorney this late in the day? He needed a trust fund set up for the baby. Another one for Ashley. Maureen would squawk about that, too.

Should he call his stepmother’s butler, have him set up a suite of rooms for Ashley in the mansion? He’d want a place ready for her when he brought her back with him. Preferably in the east wing, opposite his own rooms at the other end of the sprawling Tudor. As far from his as possible.

Like the sweetest fragment of a dream, Ashley’s face drifted into his mind. He ought to blot it immediately from his consciousness, but he let it linger as he slowed at the town limits. He hadn’t allowed himself to feel even the least anticipation at the prospect of seeing her again. Now something very akin to pleasure threatened to blossom inside him.

Even though she meant nothing to him. She’d been a casual friend at Berkeley, someone he knew wouldn’t fit into the life that waited for him outside the university. Their one frantic night of passion hadn’t changed that fact.

But the baby did. The baby changed everything. It meant he would have to make a place for Ashley, even if she was nothing more to him than the mother of his child. He could never let her go, not completely. She would always be that one small puzzle piece whose edges never quite matched, whose brilliant colors flamed in the otherwise drab tapestry of his life.

Not five minutes after Jason left, Ashley’s cell phone rang. Deep in the sofa’s cushions, her body still tingling in the aftermath of what had nearly happened between her and Jason, she stared at the device burbling away on the breakfast counter across the room and considered ignoring its summons.

But it was most likely Sara, and if Ashley didn’t answer, Sara would be on her way back here, lickety-split. Ashley had enough on her hands coping with Jason’s overbearing presence without Sara complicating matters. Her counselor sister would have her under the microscope, analyzing Ashley’s every emotion toward Jason. She’d never believe the short-lived passion of six months ago had burned itself out completely that night.

The phone stopped ringing, but Ashley knew better than to expect Sara would leave it at that. She’d better call her sister back before Sara grabbed her car keys.

With a heave, Ashley pushed up from the sofa and hurried to pick up the phone. It rang again almost immediately. Sara’s number flashed on the display.

“Hey, are you psychic?” Ashley smiled as she answered, hoping it would mask the edginess in her voice. “He just left.”

“He’s the father, isn’t he?” Sara rarely minced words.

“Yes.” Twenty-three years old and Ashley still felt like a baby sister. “Guilty as charged.”

“Why now?” Sara pressed. “All these months since you found out, you’d think he would have turned up before now.”

Ashley took a breath. “Until today, he didn’t know.”

Several seconds of silence ticked away before Sara asked, “And now that he’s heard the happy news?”

“He’s staying for a couple days. To work things out.”

“Staying where? Not with you?”

“Of course not. At the inn.”

She could imagine Sara’s scowl. “Does he know about—”

“No.”

“You have to tell him.”

Ashley tried to rub away the tension building between her eyes. “One bombshell at a time.”

“What do you know about this man?”

What did she know, other than his connection with Kerrigan Technology? He’d offered so little of himself during their time at Berkeley. Even that night in his arms, when they’d been as physically close as a man and woman could be, he’d kept his deepest secrets secured behind an emotional wall.

“I’m pregnant, Sara. He’s the father. I have no choice but to let him be involved.”

“Are you going to marry him?”

“What?” The thought twisted her stomach. “Good God, no.”

“Because if you barely know him—”

“Marriage is absolutely not an option.”

Sara released a long sigh. “You keep me informed. If he takes one wrong step—”

“You’ll be the first to know.” Ashley said her goodbyes and hung up the phone. She couldn’t deal with Sara’s mothering right then, not when she needed to work out for herself what to do next.

Sara had protected her for years, first from their abusive father, and later while they lived on their own, a seventeen-year-old and a twelve-year-old fighting to eke out a life for themselves. It was a hard habit for her sister to break and even harder for Sara to accept that Ashley could take care of herself.

The phone still in her hand, she nearly dropped it when it rang again. The caller ID displayed “Kerrigan Technology” on the screen. Her heart rate picked up its pace, but she squelched her reaction as she pressed the answer button. “Hello.”

“Do you know how to store a number on your phone?”

The brusque, off-the-wall question was pure Jason. “I can figure it out.”

“Save my number. I want to know you can get hold of me if you need me.”

But she didn’t need him, didn’t even want him there. It was very well to tell Sara that Jason deserved to be part of his baby’s life, quite another to accept him into hers. The dance they’d engaged in at the university, the steps a mix of respect, mutual interest and occasional awkwardness, had never quite matured into actual friendship. Their night of intimacy had destroyed even that possibility.

“I’ll save it. Thanks.” She couldn’t hold back the most obvious question. “What are we doing, Jason? What comes next?”

“How about dinner?”

“I have work to do. As I’m sure you do.”

“Afterward—”

“I go to bed early.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Then let me take you to breakfast. There’s some kind of coffee shop across the street from here.”

“Nina’s Café. But I can’t do breakfast. I’m still getting my classroom set up.”

“I’ll come with you. We’ll talk.”

The last thing she wanted was him in her classroom, entangled even further in her life. He didn’t belong there. But what choice did she have?

Tiredness swept over her and she realized she simply didn’t have the energy to resist him. “Pick me up at nine.”

“I’ll bring breakfast.” A beep sounded in the background. “I’ve got a message coming in I’ve been waiting for.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“I have to take it.”

“Okay.”

Still he hung on; she could hear him breathing into the phone. “We’ll work it out, Ashley.” Finally he disconnected.

She stared at the phone, stunned. He’d actually sounded halfway human. Of course, Jason’s idea of working things out would doubtless involve him demanding and her acquiescing.

Setting aside the cell, she returned to the sofa to lie down. Exhaustion had been one constant during her pregnancy, made even worse by the extra burden on her body. As she lifted her feet onto the sofa arm and tucked pillows under her head, she considered how she would deliver the rest of the news to Jason. What if that was the tipping point that sent him running? Would that be better than having to grapple with the discomfort his presence stirred up inside her?

She’d prepared herself to do this on her own. How would she fit Jason into the picture? Her father had shown her the ugliness of men, the horror they could inflict on women. Jason would never raise a hand to her, but he was so reserved, so cold, she couldn’t imagine him letting her get very close. And what kind of father would such an aloof man be to his children?

He’d been anything but icy that night. She still wasn’t sure how it had happened. If not for the life growing inside her, she could almost believe the fire and passion six months ago had been a dream.

She couldn’t think about it now. The exhaustion had seeped even deeper, driving thought from her mind. The faintest rustling in her belly a comfort, she surrendered to sleep.

Jason stabbed the disconnect button on his cell and resisted the urge to slam the device on his desk. He’d expected the conversation with his stepmother, Maureen, to be difficult; he hadn’t anticipated such a nasty confrontation.

Usually, he just ignored his stepmother’s diatribes. But when she started in on Ashley, it was all he could do to keep his temper in check, to keep from roaring out at the injustice as he had as a child. All those years of careful self-control nearly went out the window. So he’d held his tongue as Maureen played every card in her deck of accusation and condemnation, calling him an idiot for falling prey to Ashley six months ago, and his decision to accept her child as complete insanity. She accused Ashley of using the baby as a ploy to force him to marry her so she could get her hands on the Kerrigan money. His repeated assurance that marriage most definitely wasn’t in the cards barely appeased his stepmother.

She’d insisted he demand a DNA test the moment the baby was born. Ranted that by acknowledging the child without any empirical proof was further confirmation of his father’s error in placing Kerrigan Technology into his son’s hands. He would drive the company into the ground, destroy his father’s life’s work.

His father had nearly done that on his own with a few bad decisions not long before the heart attack that killed him. His acquisitions of a struggling digital media company and a moribund Internet-based data storage firm had nearly broken the company’s back.

He ran his fingers lightly over the keyboard of his laptop. A half-dozen high-priority e-mails awaited his immediate response. A security report required his input, as did a stack of résumés from applicants for a VP of marketing position. He had plenty to occupy himself with tonight.

But with Ashley so close, he couldn’t seem to think straight. It made no sense, when he’d barely given her a second thought since he’d left Berkeley.

That wasn’t entirely honest. Sometimes, during strategy sessions with Kerrigan’s Marketing Department or the interminable discussions with his father’s estate lawyer, she’d drift into the periphery of his consciousness. Sometimes it would just be her face in his mind’s eye, sometimes that one incredible night of pleasure would unroll like a movie, obliterating any other thought.

Those images invaded now, drumming through him, scents and sensations as real as if she sat beside him. He grabbed the bottled water on the table beside his laptop and gulped down half of it. Dumping it on his head would have been more effective.

He felt so antsy in the small, overdecorated room, the prospect of waiting until tomorrow morning to see her again seemed unbearable. Especially with the specter of his interaction with Maureen still fresh in his mind. He wanted to stand in the same space as Ashley, breathe in the scent of her skin, let the silk of her hair stroke his palm.

He was half out of his chair, hand on his car keys before he stopped himself. Dropping the keys on the small table he’d made into his desk, he forced himself to sit, to focus on his computer.

He tapped at the keyboard until his hands were stiff and his neck ached. Ashley’s face kept floating up like a screensaver on the laptop, her sweet smile, her soft brown gaze fixed on him. Likely, whatever he’d typed in those e-mails he’d sent over the last few hours would be unreadable garble and he’d end up sending them all over again tomorrow.

When his stomach rumbled, he was shocked to see it was nearly eight o’clock. He rose, tried to stretch out the kinks in his back. As small as it was, the room was the largest the inn had to offer, with a queen-size bed wedged between two side tables, an armoire and the worktable squeezed in at the other end. It wasn’t a business suite by any stretch of the imagination, although some might call its frilly touches homey.

Not like any home he’d ever lived in, though. The Kerrigan mansion had been furnished by a professional interior designer, each piece chosen to suit Maureen’s taste. Every room seemed staged, with just the right painting on the wall precisely placed above outrageously priced antiques. The house might as well be a museum.

And yet…there was a memory, buried away, of a different place, a tiny cottage north of San Francisco, its rooms packed with mismatched furniture, its walls crammed with pictures. He’d been five when Kerrigan Technology had taken off, when they’d moved to the mansion. In the three years before his mother died, she’d never quite put her touch on that expansive Tudor in San José.

He pushed up the window fronting Main Street to let in the cool evening air. Hart Valley had just about rolled up its sidewalks for the night, nearly every storefront dark. Only Nina’s Café across the street was still open, but the last car parked out front pulled away as he watched.

Thank God he was only staying a day or two. He was used to the vibrancy of San José and San Francisco. This sleepy little town unsettled him, gave him too much quiet space. The high tension of the Bay Area suited him better, kept his mind active, distracted him from the darkness that always edged his life.

Headlights approaching from the other direction caught his attention. The car, an old-style VW bug, slipped into the parking slot next to his. A woman stepped from the car, the dim light from the Hart Valley Inn sign revealing the gold-red color of her hair. Ashley. She was here.

His heart thundered at breakneck speed, and he gripped the windowsill as she lifted her gaze to the inn’s second floor. She found his window, although it wasn’t the only one lit. The VW’s door still open, she stood there, frozen. She looked ready to climb back into the car.

Don’t go! The sound of his own voice rang in his ears, and he realized he’d said it out loud. In the preternatural silence of Main Street, she had to have heard. Still she clung to the car as if planning her escape.

Finally she slammed the door shut and started for the inn’s front door. Relief surged through him. It alarmed him that her arrival meant so much to him, and he clamped down on the emotions that threatened to bubble up.

Backing from the window, he looked around the room and realized how hazardous it would be to have her here, especially after their close call in her living room. He’d catch her downstairs before she came up. They could meet down in the parlor where the inn hosts set up coffee in the morning.

By the time he stepped out onto the landing, Ashley had already reached the bottom of the stairs. Her beauty stunned him momentarily, so she’d climbed several steps before he could speak.

“I’ll come down,” he told her, starting toward her.

Gripping the rail, she hesitated. “I have to talk to you.”

He stopped on the step above hers. “You’d better not be here to tell me to leave.”

“I’m not,” she said, tension edging her tone.

“We can’t go to my room.”

Heat flared in her eyes. “No. We can’t.”

He edged past her, putting out a hand. “We’ll sit downstairs.”

He might as well have been offering her a snake instead of his hand, but she took it. The way she leaned on him as they descended the last few steps told him she needed his help more than she would likely admit.

She let go the moment they reached the bottom, but he held on long enough to guide her toward the parlor. “Is that normal?”

Hands lightly on her belly, she glanced at him sidelong. “What?”

“You’re exhausted.” He took her hand again to help her down onto the sofa in the parlor.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She leaned her head against the unforgiving high back of the Queen Anne sofa. “It’s late.”

“It’s eight-thirty.” He sat beside her, keeping a decorous two feet between them. “At Berkeley we’d stay up all night arguing economic theories.”

She smiled, looking his way. “You argued economic theories. I lectured you on Shakespeare.”

Her eyes were half-lidded from tiredness, he realized, but he could so easily picture that red-gold head on a soft pillow, bedroom eyes beckoning him. “What did you want?”

Her gaze slid away. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

His heart pounded as irrational fear surged through him. “There’s something wrong with the baby.”

Startled, she turned back to him. “No. The babies are fine.”

His thought processes ground to a halt. Babies? He struggled to put two and two together, to come up with—

“Twins, Jason,” she said, her expression serious. “I’m having twins.”

Chapter Three

Jason pushed off the sofa so fast Ashley thought he would run the moment he gained his feet. But he only stood staring at her, the emotions in his face baffling. The shock she understood. But the flicker of sorrow didn’t make sense.

He strode across the inn’s parlor, restless as he’d been at her house. Beth Henley, the inn’s owner, had filled the small room with an eclectic mix of thrif3t shop and antique furniture, so there wasn’t much clearance for pacing. Six feet out, six feet back, Jason threatened to wear out the old-fashioned rag rug.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

“Of course. The doctor detected the second heartbeat at eight weeks.”

“And they’re both fine?” He flexed his hands as he stood over her.

“They’re perfect.”

“Do you know…”

“From the ultrasound, it looks like a boy and a girl.”

His eyes shut a moment. “Not identical, then.”

“No.” She wondered why that seemed significant to him.

He resumed his trek back and forth across the rug. “That decides it, then. You’re coming to San José.”

If her feet weren’t throbbing and her energy level near zero, she would have jumped up and throttled him. “I’m staying here, Jason. I already told you that.”

“You need to be under a physician’s care.”

“I’ve been seeing Dr. Karpoor right in town.”

“But if anything went wrong—”

“The hospital is twenty minutes away. They can life-flight me to Sacramento if necessary. I’ve got it covered.”

He seemed to stuff away his agitation, his face smoothing to neutrality. “We’ll discuss it later. When you’re not so tired.”

She would have told him there was nothing more to discuss, but her weariness had her at a disadvantage. “I’d better get back.” She pushed against the sofa’s stiff cushions.

He closed his hand around her elbow and eased her up. “I’ll take you home.”

The warmth of his hand drifted up her arm, tempting her to lean into him. “I have my own car.”

“You’re worn out. You shouldn’t be driving.”

She shook off his hand, not liking how vulnerable she was to his touch. “I’ll be fine. It’s only a few miles.”

He was ready to push the issue; she saw him mustering his arguments. He’d been on the debate team as an undergrad at Stanford. She imagined he’d been a ruthless competitor.

“Call me when you get home. Did you save my number?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll do it.”

He put out an imperious hand. She would have walked away, but he’d come after her. Far easier to just hand the cell over to him.

With characteristic focus, he tapped the appropriate keys on the phone, then gave it back to her. “I set up a speed dial. Just press five.”

He walked her out to her car, opening the door for her and taking her hand to help her swing her bulky body inside. He didn’t let go, bending down to eye level.

He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “I can’t let anything happen to them.”

“Of course not.”

“Tell me you’ll be careful.” His gaze drilled into her.

“I will. Of course.”

He stared at her a moment more, then backed away, shutting the car door. He stepped up onto the sidewalk in front of the inn, but he waited while she started the VW and backed it out of the parking slot. She caught a glimpse of him still standing on the sidewalk in her rearview mirror just before she turned off Main Street.

He was a man with so many sharp edges, she didn’t know how she would tolerate him over the next couple of days. She’d been bossed by her sister, Sara, for years, but she’d accepted that because Sara supported them both and had to make the decisions. But Sara had gladly snipped the apron strings years ago and rarely played the big-sister card anymore. Jason’s orders rankled her.

But it was only for the weekend. Then he’d return to San José and likely their contact with each other would be limited. They’d probably have to make some kind of custody arrangement once the babies were born—a prospect that filled her with anxiety—but surely he wouldn’t want the day-to-day responsibility of raising children. It made more sense for the babies to live here. He could visit them whenever he wanted. She doubted that would be often.

As she pulled into the gate of the NJN ranch, her heart ached at the thought. While she was growing up, she would have given anything for a real father—a good man, a kind and decent man who would come watch her soccer games and school plays. Her classmates would moan and groan about their dads, how restrictive they were, how they wouldn’t let them do anything. Those same girls would be dragging their dads around on back-to-school night, showing off their artwork and science projects.

Unlocking the front door, Ashley stepped inside the quiet, empty space. She loved the little house, its tidy efficiency, its quirky lines. She’d felt comfortable here the moment she’d arrived three months ago.

But as she slipped off her sandals and padded toward her bedroom in the back, an aching loneliness washed over her. Before Jason arrived, she’d been happy in her solitary life, willing to accept motherhood on her own with the assistance of her sister and friends she’d made in Hart Valley. But Jason seemed to represent possibilities she’d made an effort to block from her mind—an intact family, a complete home.

She couldn’t let herself think about it even now. Because Jason would be gone soon, back to his own world. He’d likely try to force financial support on her, would no doubt set up trust funds for the twins. He would offer her nothing emotionally. He didn’t seem to have the capacity for it.

Pulling on a short frilly nightgown her sister had given her, Ashley climbed between the pale-pink sheets of her double bed. She’d had to give up the queen-size bed when she gave up the larger room to the babies. She didn’t need the bigger mattress anyway, living alone.

As she lay there, eyes closed, she tried to imagine Jason in the bed beside her. His serious face as he gazed down at her, stroking her cheek, pressing a kiss on her lips. His hand resting on her belly, waiting for the twins to kick. His arms cradling her all night long.

But that man didn’t really exist. Jason was only a few miles away in Hart Valley, but the real core of him might as well be in a different universe. He’d no more hold her to ease her loneliness than he would give away his millions and become a monk.

One night she’d seen more, she’d delved deeper into his soul. As much as she might want to tell herself it was only lust the night they’d made love, there had been a moment, just before passion overwhelmed him, when all the barriers had come down. It had been only an instant, then the walls had slammed into place again.

And that barricade would never fall again.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He’d tossed and turned half the night entertaining entirely inappropriate fantasies of Ashley before falling into restless sleep riddled with X-rated dreams. Now he sat beside her in his Mercedes obsessing over how her bare, freckled shoulders would feel under his fingers. As bad as the distraction of her soft skin was, her scent, like cinnamon-spiced flowers, completely obliterated his focus.

Oblivious to the irrationality inside him, Ashley flipped through a workbook in her lap, her strawberry-blond hair half concealing her face. She’d made it clear from the moment she opened her door to him this morning that physical contact would not be on the agenda today. Not that he would indulge in his ridiculous fantasies.

He’d barely managed to convince her to take his more-spacious Mercedes instead of her cramped little bug. He couldn’t see himself riding beside her in the tiny car, nearly close enough for his shoulder to brush hers. His sedan’s bucket seats at least gave him a fighting chance of resisting the pull between them.

The box of pastries he’d so carefully selected at Archer’s Bakery in town sat on the floor behind his seat. She’d thanked him for bringing them, but said she still felt a little shaky in the mornings and the rich pastries might not go down well. He obviously knew nothing about catering to pregnant women.

He pulled into the parking lot of Hart Valley Elementary. Moving quickly to her side of the car, he helped her out. “I’ll go back into town and pick you up something. What do you want?”

“I have a box of granola bars in the room, and I brought a banana.” She slipped the workbook into the large canvas bag she’d brought. “I don’t need anything else.”

“Some juice? Milk?”

“Thanks, no.” She opened the back door and bent to retrieve the box he’d carried out of the house for her.

He stepped in to take it himself. “I’ll get it.” Arms wrapped around the box, he shut the car door with his hip. When she started to sling the canvas bag over her shoulder, he snagged it, too, and dropped it on top of the box.

She glared at him. “I’m not helpless.”

“Where to?”

With a huff of impatience, she started off across a thick green lawn that fronted the school, past the brick-fronted school office to the asphalt playground beyond. Rows of classrooms bordered three sides of the playground, and bright-white chalk delineated a baseball diamond in a green field beyond. The September-morning coolness still lingered, although low eighties had been forecast.

For a woman six months pregnant with twins, she walked remarkably fast. She held her shoulders stiffly, the small purse she had tucked under her arm squeezed tight against her side.

They reached the farthest row of classrooms, and he followed her up the ramp that led to the door. Diving in her purse for a set of keys, she fumbled with the lock.

He set the box down and reached for the keys. “Give them to me.”

She yanked them away. “I can do it.” She fished through the ring, then jabbed a key in the lock. It wouldn’t turn.

“Ashley—” He put his hand out again for the keys.

“No!” Her fingers wrapped tight around the jangling ring. “I’ll do it!”

But she just stood there, her soft mouth in a tight line, her fingers woven in the metal keys. He’d caused this; he’d made her angry without even knowing why or how. A typical blunder for him. He could suss out the deepest buried intentions of a business opponent, but when it came to women, he was a stumbling bull.

She fished through the keys again. The one she selected fit in the lock and turned. Her hand on the knob, she pushed open the door, but blocked his way into the room. “I don’t want you here, Jason. I know you’re the babies’ father, that you deserve to be involved. But I wish you’d stayed in San José.”

“I’m not leaving,” he told her flatly. “Not without you.”

“I have a life here. A good one. For me and the babies.”

He struggled to hold on to his patience. “Let me inside. I’ll help you with your classroom.”

The sheen of tears in her eyes shocked him. “I can’t have you here.”

“We have to come to some kind of agreement.”

She rubbed her eyes before a tear could fall. “I know. We have to talk.”

She had to know he couldn’t just walk away. “Let me inside.”

She stood frozen a moment more, then she relented, stepping inside the classroom and leaving the door open. Hefting the box again, he entered, shutting the door behind him.

An eclectic selection of posters were already tacked to the wall, of dolphins and tall redwoods and celebrities encouraging the children to read. Tables arranged in a U, two chairs at each, surrounded a carpet filled with cartoon characters.

There was a tear in the carpet, and the tables were stained with ink and paint. The bookcases that lined the walls were riddled with nicks and gouges. Nothing like the private schools where he’d been educated, where everything was bright and new, always in perfect condition.

One phone call and he could get Ashley a job at any of the most exclusive private schools in the Bay Area. How could she pass up such tantalizing bait? He considered making the proposition, but as upset as she was, she might not be as receptive as she could be. He tucked that idea away as he set the box on the table nearest her desk.

“What grade are you teaching?” he asked.

“Second. I have nineteen students.”

“What can I do?” he asked.

He thought she might ask him again to get out of her life. But instead, her gaze narrowed on him. “Leaves.” Her mouth curved in a faint smile. “I need 150 of them.”

Uncomprehending, he shook his head. “Leaves.”

Behind her, construction paper lay in stacks on top of a low bookshelf. She gathered up a sheaf of red, orange and brown paper and dumped it on the table near her desk. Setting a leaf-shaped pattern, a pencil and a pair of scissors beside the construction paper, she pulled out one of the minuscule chairs.

“Leaves. Fifty in each color. There’s plenty more paper if you need it.”

He hadn’t played with paper and scissors since…maybe he never had. All those exclusive private schools stuck to the academic basics, training the next generation of tycoons. There was little room in the curriculum for arts and crafts.

As he wedged himself into the tiny chair and slid a sheet of orange construction paper over, he glanced at Ashley, now unloading the canvas bag and box. Her gaze locked with his, and the faint curve of her mouth widened to a genuine smile. “If you do well with the leaves, I’ll promote you to tree trunks.”

Her smile set off an ache inside him he didn’t understand. Something about her soft brown eyes, the way the sunshine spilling in from the wall of windows turned her silky hair to gold made him feel…lonely.

He pushed aside the useless emotion. “A hundred and fifty leaves,” he said, picking up the scissors, “coming up.”

As she flipped through the workbook she’d brought and wrote out lesson plans at her desk, Ashley indulged in another surreptitious glance over at Jason as he worked. A twinge of guilt started up inside her again that she’d given him such endless, mindless duty to keep him busy.

It hadn’t been revenge so much as self-defense. He’d unsettled her from the moment he’d arrived at her door this morning in his snug red polo and crisp navy slacks. There wasn’t anything suggestive about what he wore; he was the picture of the hard-driving CEO, a bit intimidating, a lot exasperating. It was his dark-blond hair— so impeccably neat it begged to be mussed. Her fingers itched to rearrange it.

Lack of sleep and crazed hormones sent her mind wandering in such dangerous directions. She truly didn’t want to know how that red knit would feel under her hand, what she’d see in his eyes if she touched him. So she used his trick—aloof coolness, putting as high a wall around herself as he did around his emotions.

But watching him with the scissors and construction paper, that blond hair still in desperate need of mussing, she knew she couldn’t hold up barriers against him for very long. She just didn’t have his knack of keeping people at arm’s length.

His angular body might not fit well in the mini-size chair, knees nearly to his chin, broad shoulders towering over the chair back, but he seemed surprisingly at home tracing and cutting out leaves Ashley’s students would be using their first week of class. He focused on the activity as he did everything else—single-mindedly and with precision, as if his company’s bottom line depended on the completion of the task.

Some men might have considered such a trivial chore beneath them. He hadn’t complained, hadn’t argued, had just sat down to do it.

Her stomach rumbled, and she realized she never had gotten around to eating that banana. When she’d refused Jason’s offer of breakfast, she hadn’t been completely honest. While her body didn’t always respond well to rich food, even in her sixth month, she wouldn’t have said no to a pastry from Archer’s Bakery if her sister had bought it for her. It was harder to accept Jason’s generosity.

But her stomach’s call for sustenance trumped her misgivings over the significance of Jason’s gesture. Something buttery and sweet from that pink bakery box would be absolute heaven.

“Jason.”

He looked up at her, setting aside the scissors and flexing his hands. “Ten more to do in brown and orange.”

“I’d be glad to finish them if you’ll go get the pastries.”

The tiny chair tipped over as he rose, and he righted it before straightening. He winced as he stretched his shoulders back.

Ashley pushed to her feet. “I’m sorry. I never should have had you sit in that chair.”

He squeezed the back of his neck with his long fingers. “Just a little stiff.”

“Come sit here.” She gestured to her cushioned desk chair. “I’ll get the kinks out for you.”

Dropping his hand, he took a half step back. “No.”

She should let it go. He was always tense, and the occasional neck rubs she’d given him at Berkeley had never made much of a difference. It was something she’d always done for Sara, to ease some of her sister’s stress. When she’d massaged Jason’s tight muscles at the end of a long day at the university, it had been just as innocent.

Until that fiery night in his arms. Now nothing between them seemed innocent anymore.

Despite her better judgment, she pulled her wheeled chair out and beckoned him. “Come here.”

He moved toward her with slow steps and settled in the chair. Resting her hands on his shoulders, she ran her thumbs along the tense muscles there. His heat radiated through the knit of his shirt.

Her heart rate kicked into high gear as she worked her fingers toward the strong column of his neck. He sucked in a breath when she first touched bare skin. “Are my hands cold?”

He shook his head. Trying to ignore the sensual awareness that sparked deep inside her, she dug deep with her fingertips on either side of his neck. The tautness of his muscles persisted against her ministrations, as if he resisted even the slightest bit of comfort she offered. Back at school she could usually cajole him into a modicum of relaxation with her gentle massages. Today she suspected nothing would persuade him to let go.

Except a kiss. A shock went through her at the thought of pressing her lips to the side of his neck, feeling the warm flesh against her mouth. She wondered at his reaction, whether he’d push her away or turn the chair to pull her into his lap.

She realized her deep massage had changed, that she’d begun stroking his neck instead, grazing his skin in sensual caresses. She could hear his harsh breathing, feel arousal coiling under her hands. It crossed her mind she should pull her hands away, cease touching him. But the sensation of skin against skin had her mesmerized.

His hands fell on hers, stopping her. His shoulders rose and fell, his muscles, if anything, tighter than when she’d started. Then he pulled away, pushing the chair aside, facing her.

His fingers curved around her upper arms, and he held her there, not pulling her closer but not pushing her away, either. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and the expectation that he might kiss her sent a fever through her.

But then he stumbled back, breaking the contact. He strode toward the door, yanking it open and slamming it behind him.

Dazed, Ashley made her way to the chair where Jason had been working, and eased herself into it. A mistake, she realized the moment she stretched her legs out under the equally small-scale table. She’d have to struggle to get herself back up without help.

But Jason would come back, wouldn’t he? They’d settled nothing about the babies, hadn’t even started to discuss it. He wouldn’t leave now.

Thirty minutes later she’d cut out the last of the construction-paper autumn leaves when she heard the rattle of the door opening. Jason stepped inside with the pink bakery box and a brown paper bag in his hands, hesitating in the doorway before he crossed the room toward her.

He set his burdens down and opened the box for her. “I remembered you like bear claws.”

There were four of her favorite pastries in the box, lined up beside two cheese and two raspberry danishes. She laughed. “I’m as big as a house as it is. Are you trying to fatten me up even more?”

“You need to eat.” He handed her a bear claw, then took a raspberry danish for himself.

She took a bite of the sweet, buttery pastry, sighing with pleasure. Sitting on the edge of the table, Jason leaned forward and brushed at the corner of her mouth. “Some sugar,” he said, his voice low.

The pressure of his thumb lingered. Ashley resisted the temptation to lick the spot he’d touched, to see if she could taste him. “There are paper towels back there by the sink. Could you get us a couple?”

Setting the danish on the box lid, he went for the paper towels. He set one sheet on the table in front of her and another in her lap. He did nothing out of line as he spread the towel over her legs, but she imagined his touch nonetheless.

“Orange juice or milk?” He opened the brown paper bag and pulled out a small carton of each.

He’d gone back into town after all. “Milk would be great.”

He opened the carton for her and took the juice for himself. “You finished the leaves. Thanks.”

“I should be thanking you. They’re for my students.”

“But I said I’d do it. It was my responsibility to finish the job.”

Was everything a responsibility, a duty? She wondered if he ever did anything for the sheer pleasure of it, then remembered their night together.

Once she’d polished off the bear claw and milk, she wiped her face and stuffed the paper towels into the milk carton. He took her trash before she could so much as stir, then returned to where she still sat trapped in the diminutive chair.

“What next?” he asked.

“Decorate the room,” she told him, then she smiled. “That is, after you lever me out of this chair.”

He frowned, giving her his hand. He let go the moment she was on her feet. “Where’s your cell?”

“In the canvas bag.”

Moving to her desk, he grabbed the bag and dug through it. Ashley was too stunned to complain at his intrusion.

He unearthed the phone and brought it to her. “Keep it handy.”

She slipped it into the pocket of her sundress. “What—”

“I want to make sure you can reach me while I’m gone. It’ll take me an hour or two to get everything arranged.”

Wariness rose inside her. “Get what arranged?”

“What I need in order to conduct business. Office equipment, communications system. Some clothes. A place to stay long-term.”

The unease within her blossomed into full-blown alarm. “I don’t understand.”

“You need me here, Ashley, and not just for a couple days.” His brown gaze bored into her. “If you won’t come with me to San José, I’m here for the duration. Until the babies are born.”

Chapter Four

Jason’s departing footsteps still echoing in her ears, Ashley nearly sank back into the tiny, second-grader chair before she caught herself. Jason staying? Until the babies were born? She’d be stark raving mad before those three months were up.

Bending to the knee-high table, she gathered up the stacks of paper leaves and sorted them into manila envelopes. She would unpack the box of books she’d brought, then turn her focus on decorating her room. Best to put aside the problem of Jason for the moment. Fretting over what he might or might not do wouldn’t be good for the babies.

Nearly two hours later she’d finished stapling up an elaborate paper oak tree that covered one wall, intending to add leaves decorated by the students the first week of school. A few die-cut squirrels hid amongst the branches and a great gray owl she’d cut from a poster watched over the scene.

Glancing at the clock, she saw it was nearly one and her stomach started clamoring for food again. Jason had left the box of pastries, but it would be tempting fate if she ate another bear claw. There was still the banana and granola bars, but her insistent appetite wanted something more substantial.

She crossed the room and stepped outside into the simmering late-summer heat. A few other rooms had their doors propped open, so she wasn’t alone here. She could see the principal’s car in the parking lot, but Mrs. Beeber wasn’t the type to socialize with staff, so Ashley wasn’t inclined to invite her out to lunch.

Slipping her hands in the pockets of her sundress, she fingered the phone, dithering over whether to call Jason or just wait. Her imperious stomach wasn’t in a patient mood, so she tugged out the cell and tried to remember which preset Jason had used to store his number.

Before she could dial, the sun’s glare off an arriving car flashed across her face. She watched as Jason’s silver-gray Mercedes pulled in next to Principal Beeber’s Volvo. Her hand tightened on the phone, and the cell beeped as she inadvertently pressed a button. She realized she’d speed-dialed Sara’s number and she quickly poked the disconnect.

Jason had started across the playground, the heat off the asphalt shimmering across his body. He was drop-dead gorgeous, there was no denying it. Couple that with the fact that she knew what he looked like under those straitlaced clothes, and it made sense that she responded to him the way she did. It didn’t mean anything more than pure animal lust, even in a woman six months pregnant.

Halfway across the playground, she could feel his gaze lock on her. The late-summer sunshine couldn’t compete with the impact of Jason’s dark-brown eyes. She wrapped her hands around the safety railing on the landing, doing her best to ignore a new kind of hunger burning inside.

She smiled, hoping it didn’t look as come-hither as it felt. “I hope you’re taking me to lunch.”

He started up the ramp. “We can do that first.”

She got to the door before him and stepped back into the air-conditioned classroom. “Before what?”

“We get your things packed.”

About to pick up her purse and the canvas bag, she turned to face him. “Are we back to this? I’m not going to San José with you.”

“Not San José. I’m leasing a house in town. We’ll move you in there.”

Just as well she’d already put those books away. Otherwise she’d be heaving a few at his head. “I’m staying in my own house.”

He had the pink bakery box in his hands, and the pressure of his thumbs dented the lid. “I don’t like you living out in the middle of nowhere alone.”

“My sister’s in and out of there all the time. Once school starts, I’ll be here every day.”

She could almost hear his mind working. Tension set off an ache in her back. Nothing was ever easy with Jason.

The box under one arm, he plucked the canvas bag from her desk. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said as he walked toward the door to wait for her.

Jason remained silent during the short drive into town, no doubt marshaling additional arguments to convince her. Ravenous hunger battling with her habitual afternoon exhaustion, Ashley wasn’t sure she could face another round with him.

The lunch crowd at Nina’s Café had already thinned by the time she and Jason stepped inside. There was only Nina sitting at a table with her son, Nate. Nate sketched on an art pad with a concentration unusual for a six-year-old.

“Hi, Nina,” Ashley called out. “Hello, Nate.”

Rising, Nina welcomed Ashley with a smile and gave Jason a curious glance. “Go ahead and sit anywhere.”

His hand lightly brushing her back, Jason urged Ashley toward the table next to Nate’s. As Jason seated Ashley, Nina brought them two menus before hurrying to answer the café’s phone. Jason turned to study Nate’s riotous pastel of flowers and giant bumble bees.

“Can I take a closer look?” he asked the boy.

His expression as serious as Jason’s, Nate handed him the sketch pad. Jason held the artwork up to the light. Ashley expected he’d inform Nate that the bees were too big or that real flowers didn’t come in that shade of lime green. But he surprised her.

He set the pad back down on the table. “You’re very good.”

Nate grinned. “Thanks.”

“My brother likes to draw.”

That bit of personal information startled Ashley. She had no idea he had a brother.

“Is he as old as me?” Nate asked. “I’m six.”

Jason’s jaw worked. “He’s older than you.”

He turned away from Nate abruptly and sat beside Ashley. “What’s good here?” he asked, picking up the menu.

She suspected if she asked about his brother, he wouldn’t be forthcoming. “Everything. I like the hot meat loaf sandwich.”

Nina returned to take their order, and Ashley could see the questions in her eyes. Ashley’s sister was no gossip, but Sara and Nina were good friends. It wouldn’t be long before the café owner knew everything there was to know about Jason Kerrigan and why he was here.

Not ten seconds after Nina brought Ashley’s clam chowder and a basket of crackers, Jason started in. “The property I’ve leased has a guest cottage, where I’ll be staying. You’ll have the main house to yourself.”

She took a bite of soup. “I have a house, Jason.”

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