“You like telling me what to do. Is this a military thing or a male thing?”

“I’m just trying to do the right thing,” Jeff replied. “I need a housekeeper and you need to make a change in your life.”

Ashley sighed. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer, Jeff.”

“But you don’t trust me.”

Her gaze sharpened. “It’s not that exactly.”

I want you.

The words remained unspoken, but they burned inside of him. He wanted to inhale the scent of her body, touch her everywhere. He wanted to fill her until they both forgot everything but the heat of the moment.

He drew in a slow breath. “The offer still stands. Let me know if you change your mind.”

And then he walked away, because if he didn’t, he might just tell her the truth.

That when he was with her and her daughter, he forgot he wasn’t like everyone else.

Dear Reader,

Many people read romance novels for the unforgettable heroes that capture our hearts and stay with us long after the last page is read. But to give all the credit for the success of this genre to these handsome hunks is to underestimate the value of the heart of a romance: the heroine.

“Heroes are fantasy material, but for me, the heroines are much more grounded in real life,” says Susan Mallery, bestselling author of this month’s Shelter in a Soldier’s Arms. “For me, the heroine is at the center of the story. I want to write and read about women who are intelligent, funny and determined.”

Gina Wilkins’s The Stranger in Room 205 features a beautiful newspaper proprietor who discovers an amnesiac in her backyard and finds herself in an adventure of a lifetime! And don’t miss The M.D. Meets His Match in Hades, Alaska, where Marie Ferrarella’s snowbound heroine unexpectedly finds romance that is sure to heat up the bitter cold.…

Peggy Webb delivers an Invitation to a Wedding; when the heroine is rescued from marrying the wrong man, could a long-lost friend end up being Mr. Right? Sparks fly in Lisette Belisle’s novel when the heroine, raising Her Sister’s Secret Son, meets a mysterious man who claims to be the boy’s father! And in Patricia McLinn’s Almost a Bride, a rancher desperate to save her ranch enters into a marriage of convenience, but with temptation as her bed partner, life becomes a minefield of desire.

Special Edition is proud to publish novels featuring strong, admirable heroines struggling to balance life, love and family and making dreams come true. Enjoy! And look inside for details about our Silhouette Makes You a Star contest.

Best,

Karen Taylor Richman, Senior Editor

Shelter in a Soldier’s Arms
Susan Mallery

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To single mothers everywhere. May your dedication be rewarded with love, happiness and your heart’s desire.

SUSAN MALLERY

is the bestselling author of over forty books for Harlequin and Silhouette. She makes her home in the Pacific Northwest with her handsome prince of a husband and her two adorable-but-not-bright cats.

Dear Reader,

I was so excited to find out that my book was going to be part of Special Edition’s new promotion, A WOMAN’S WAY. While I frequently write stories about strong women who find an extraordinary love, I felt that this particular heroine deserved special notice.

Ashley Churchill is like so many of us—trapped in circumstances she can’t quite control. She’s a struggling single mom trying to get her degree. Money is tight, time is tighter. Yet she has a terrific relationship with her daughter and she has a plan. With love and a plan, a woman can do almost anything.

When Jeff Ritter sweeps into her life, she’s not sure if she’s being rescued or taken hostage. Jeff is every inch a soldier—he’s lost the tenderness in his heart, if he ever had any. Yet he is the most honorable man she’s ever known…and the sexiest. He frightens her, because a man who has nothing to lose is a dangerous creature. Yet he is both kind to her and her daughter—and incredibly handsome. She can’t resist him, even when she knows she’s crazy to let herself fall for him.

I hope you enjoy this passionate story.

All the best,

Contents

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

Epilogue

Chapter One

There was trouble.

Jeffrey Ritter sensed it even before he spotted the flashing light on the security console mounted in his car. At five o’clock in the morning the offices of Ritter/Rankin Security should have been locked down and empty. According to the red flashing light, the building was neither.

Jeff touched several buttons on the console to confirm the information. The front and rear doors were locked, but inner doors were open. Lights were on as well, he noted as he drove into the parking lot and headed for a spot to the left of the double glass doors—glass that was deceptively clear but could in fact withstand severe artillery fire and a small bomb blast.

Trouble, he thought again as he put the car into Park and turned off the engine. He popped the trunk of his black BMW 740i and stepped out onto the damp pavement. Although it wasn’t raining, the air was heavy and wet, as if the Seattle skies were about to do their thing at any moment.

Jeff circled the vehicle and removed his personal firearm, which he checked and slipped into his specially designed holster. Next came the black stunner, designed to immobilize an attacker without permanent injury. He punched buttons on his beeper, setting it to standby so that a single touch would alert his partner and the authorities. He didn’t usually get the latter involved in his operations, but his office was in downtown Seattle. The local police wouldn’t appreciate a predawn shoot-out, and they would absolutely expect an explanation.

He turned his attention to the quiet building. Nothing looked out of place. But in his experience that was common. Danger rarely announced itself with a neon sign.

Jeff walked quickly and quietly, moving around the building to a side entrance without a lock. Only a small keypad allowed access. He tapped in the code and waited for the door to unlock. If someone was waiting in the small alcove, the door wouldn’t open. There was a slight snick as the locking mechanism released, and he entered the protective space tucked along the main corridor.

He was surrounded on three sides by glass coated to be a two-way mirror. Dropping into a crouch, he surveyed the length of the corridor. Nothing. From the corner of his eye he caught a flicker of movement in the east hallway. It was gone before he could register who or what it was. Damn.

Still crouching, Jeff pushed the concealed button to let himself out into the corridor. He hurried in the direction of the movement, keeping low, running soundlessly. As he rounded the corner, he reached for both the gun and the stunner—only to slam to a halt, as immobilized as if he’d just taken a jolt from his own weapon.

Breath left his lungs. Involuntary impulses forced him to his feet even as he slipped the weapons out of sight. He didn’t remember making a sound, yet he must have because the intruder turned and looked at him.

“You hafta be quiet ’cause Mommy’s sleeping.”

In less than a second he’d scanned the immediate area and absorbed all that he saw. No dangerous intruders, at least not in the traditional sense. Which was unfortunate. Jeff Ritter knew what to do when facing an insurrection, a terrorist hit squad or even a stubborn client. But he had absolutely no experience with children—especially little girls with big blue eyes.

She was small, barely coming to midthigh on him. Dark, shiny curls caught the overhead light. She wore pink kitten-motif pajamas and fluffy, cotton-candy-colored slippers. A stuffed white cat filled her arms.

He blinked, half wondering if she was an illusion. But she remained stubbornly real. As did the woman on the floor beside her.

Jeff took in the cart of cleaning supplies and the woman’s casual, worn clothes. Grown-ups he could handle, and he quickly cataloged her flushed face, closed eyes and the trace of sweat on her forehead. Even from several feet away he could sense her fever, brought on by illness. She’d probably sat down to rest and had slipped into semi-consciousness.

“Mommy works hard,” the little girl told him. “She’s real tired. I woke up a while ago and I was gonna talk to her ’bout why she was sleeping on the floor, but then I thought I’d be real quiet and let her sleep.”

Chubby cheeks tilted up as the young child smiled at him, as if expecting praise for her decision. Instead Jeff turned his pager from emergency stand-by to regular, then flicked on the safety on his gun and switched off the stunner. Then he crouched next to the woman.

“What’s your name?”

He was speaking to the adult, but the child answered instead.

“I’m Maggie. Do you work here? It’s nice. One of the big rooms is my favorite. It’s got really, really big windows and you can see forever, clear up to the sky. Sometimes when I wakes up, I count the stars. I can count to a hundred and sometimes I can count higher. Wanna hear?”

“Not right now.”

Jeff ignored the ongoing chatter. Instead he reached for the woman’s forehead and at the same time he touched the inside of her wrist to check her pulse. Her heart rate was steady and strong, but she definitely had a fever. He reached to lift an eyelid to examine her pupil reaction when she awakened. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at him, her expression telling him he was about as welcome as the plague.

A man! Ashley Churchill’s first thought was that Damian had come back to haunt her. Her second was that while the cold-looking man in front of her might be second cousin to the devil, he wasn’t her ex-husband.

Her head felt as if it weighed three tons, and she couldn’t seem to focus on anything but gray eyes and a face completely devoid of emotion. Then she blinked and brain cells began firing, albeit slowly. She was sitting in a hallway that looked vaguely familiar. Ritter/Rankin Security, she thought hazily. She was working, or at least she was supposed to be.

“I was so tired,” she murmured, trying to sound more coherent than she felt. “I sat down to rest. I guess I fell asleep.” She blinked again, then wished she hadn’t as she recognized the man crouched in front of her. He’d passed her in the hall when she first interviewed for the job. The office manager had identified him as Jeffrey Ritter, partner, professional security expert extraordinaire, ex-soldier.

Her boss.

“Mommy, you’re awake!”

The familiar voice normally made her heart leap with gladness, but now Ashley felt only horror. Maggie was up? What time…? She glanced at her watch and groaned when she saw 5:10 a.m. glowing in the light of the hall. She was supposed to have finished her cleaning by two, and she always met the deadline. She remembered something about security systems reactivating after she’d left.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ritter,” she said, forcing herself to scramble to her feet and ignoring the weakness that filled her when she did. “I don’t usually sleep on the job. Maggie had the flu last week and I think I caught her bug.” In fact, she was sure of it. Not that the stern, unsmiling man standing in front of her would care one way or the other.

He turned his attention from her to her daughter. Ashley winced, knowing it looked bad. No one had ever explicitly said she couldn’t bring her daughter to work, but then no doubt no one had thought they would have to. Four-year-olds didn’t belong in the workplace.

“Mommy says preschool is a germ mag-mag-maggot?” Her rosebud mouth couldn’t quite get around the word.

“Magnet,” Ashley offered automatically. She smoothed her hands against her jeans and offered her hand to the man who was very likely going to fire her. “Mr. Ritter, I’m Ashley Churchill. Obviously I clean the office. Usually I’m out by two.”

“I sleep while Mommy works,” Maggie put in helpfully. “Mommy makes me a really nice bed with my favorite kitten sheets. She sings to me and I close my eyes.” She lowered her voice and took a step toward the man. “I’m s’posed to go right to sleep but sometimes I peek and look at the stars.”

Ashley swallowed against the lump of fear in her throat. “Yes, well, it’s not as bad as it seems,” she said lamely, knowing it was actually worse. She felt slightly less perky than a fur ball and she was going to lose her job. Talk about a lousy start to her day. At least things could only get better from here.

“Your things are in my office?”

Jeff Ritter spoke for the first time. His voice was low and perfectly modulated. She had no clue what he was thinking, which made her assume the worst.

“Ah, yes.”

“Where do the cleaning supplies go?” he asked.

“There’s a closet at the end of the hall. I’d nearly finished. I still have to take care of Mr. Rankin’s office. Everything else is done.”

He took her elbow and led her down the hall. His touch was steel. Not especially rough or firm, but she knew that if she tried to escape he could snap her in half. Like a toothpick.

A charming visual, she thought with a sigh. Her daughter could collect the splintered shards of what used to be her mother and keep them in a little box. She could bring her out at show-and-tell when she went to school and—

Ashley shook her head. She was sicker than she’d thought. Her mind was wandering and she would give almost anything to be in her bed and have this all be a horrible dream. But it wasn’t. As they stepped into Jeff’s office, the proof of her audacious behavior lay scattered all around.

One of the plush leather sofas had been made up into a bed. There were a half-dozen stuffed animals scattered across the kitten sheets. A juice box and crumbs were testament to a late-night snack, while a baby monitor held the place of honor in the center of the large glass coffee table she’d pushed away from the sofa.

He released her and crossed to the table. When he picked up the monitor, Ashley reached into her pocket and removed the small receiver.

“It’s so I can hear her,” she said, probably unnecessarily. The man was a security expert. He would have access to listening devices she could only imagine. “I don’t bring Maggie to work with me on a whim, Mr. Ritter. I go to college during the day, which is why I work the hours I do. I can’t afford to pay someone to spend the night. A sitter would take most of my paycheck and I need that for rent, food and tuition.”

She briefly closed her eyes as the room began to spin. He wouldn’t care, she thought glumly. He was going to fire her. She would lose both her paycheck and her health insurance. Still, she wouldn’t go without a fight.

“She’s never been any trouble. It’s been nearly a year and no one has ever found out.” She winced at how that sounded. “I’m not saying that to excuse my behavior, just to point out that she’s not really a problem.” She’s not a reason to fire me. Except she didn’t say that.

Maggie moved to her side and took her hand. “Don’t worry, Mommy. The nice man likes us.”

Oh, yeah, Ashley thought. Maybe served up for breakfast, but not any other way. There was something scary about the man in front of her. Something she couldn’t exactly put her finger on. A stillness, maybe? Or maybe it was his eyes—so cold. He studied her like a predator assessing a potential victim.

Jeff Ritter was tall, maybe six-two or three. His tailored suit looked expensive and well cut, but it couldn’t conceal the power of his body. He was a honed fighting machine. Maybe a killing one.

He was blond, with eyes the color of slate. In another life he could have been described as handsome, but not in this one. There was too much wariness in his stance, too much danger.

Because of the hours she worked, she didn’t have contact with very many people in the office. Once every three weeks she checked in with the office manager. Instructions were left on the bulletin board in the supply closet, her paychecks were mailed to her house. But she’d read articles about the security firm. There had been several write-ups when a computer expert’s son had been kidnapped and held for ransom. Jeff had been the one to track down the criminals. He’d brought them back, more dead than alive. The boy had been fine.

A shiver rippled through her. It had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the fever heating her system. Her stomach lurched and she knew if she’d eaten dinner, she would have just shared it with the world.

Jeff gave her a quick once-over then moved to the sofa. “You’re ready to pass out on your feet. You need to be home and in bed.”

Before she could protest, he’d gathered the sheets and stuffed them into the tote on the floor by the sofa. Maggie joined in the game, collecting her stuffed animals. While she carefully threw out the empty juice container, Jeff put the baby monitor into the bag.

“Anything else?” he asked.

Just her final paycheck, she thought grimly. But that would be sent to her.

“Nothing. Thank you, Mr. Ritter. You’ve been very kind.”

She didn’t know what else to say. Would he respond to begging? Based on the chill in his gray eyes, she didn’t think so.

He didn’t acknowledge her words. Instead he turned and headed for the front of the building.

“My car’s out back,” she called after him, then had to lean against the door frame to gather her strength. She needed to sleep. Unfortunately Maggie wasn’t going to go down for more than a couple of hours. Maybe that would be enough to get Ashley on her feet enough to get through the day. Or maybe—

“You’re too ill to drive,” Jeff said flatly. He’d paused at the turn in the corridor. “I’ll take you home. Your car will be returned to you later in the day.”

She was too weak to argue, which meant he was right about her being in no shape to drive. Slowly she staggered after him. Maggie held her hand.

“Snowball says she wants to sleep with you when we get home,” Maggie said sleepily as they walked through the building. “She’s magic and she’ll make you feel better.”

Ashley knew that her daughter wouldn’t give up her favorite toy lightly. Touched by the gesture, she smiled at her child. “I think you’re the magic one.”

Maggie giggled, her curls dancing. “I’m just little, Mommy. There’s no place for the magic to go. If I was bigger, there could be some.”

Ashley was too tired to point out that Snowball was smaller still. But then, favorite toys were always special in ways that grown-ups didn’t understand.

They stepped out into the misting morning to find Jeff holding open the rear door of an impressive black sedan. Ashley didn’t have to see the BMW emblem on the hood to know that the car was expensive. Very expensive. If she could make even close to what this car cost, all her troubles would be solved.

She hesitated before sliding across the soft, gray leather. It was cool and smooth and soft. Whatever you do, don’t throw up, she told herself firmly.

It took only a few seconds to secure her daughter and herself in safety belts. With her arm around Maggie, Ashley leaned back and closed her eyes. Just a few more minutes, she told herself. Fifteen at most. Then she would be home and crawling into her own bed.

“I need your address.”

The voice came out of the blackness. Ashley had to rouse herself to speak and even then it was difficult to form words. She started to give him directions, as well, but Jeff informed her he knew the area. She didn’t doubt him. He was the kind of man who knew just about everything.

The soft hum of the engine lulled her into that half-awake, half-asleep place. She could have stayed there forever. The early hour caught up with Maggie who snuggled against her and relaxed. Right up until the car came to a stop and she felt more than heard Jeff turn toward her.

“There seems to be a problem.”

Ashley forced her eyes open, then wished she hadn’t. So much for her day not getting worse.

They were stopped close to her four-story apartment building. Normally there was plenty of room to park right in front of the building, but not this morning. Today, red fire trucks and police cars had pulled into the driveway. Flashing lights twinkled in the light rainfall. Stunned, Ashley stared in disbelief at the river of water flowing down the main steps. Her neighbors were huddled together on the sidewalk.

No, she thought, feeling herself tremble with shock and disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. Not today.

She fumbled with Maggie’s seat belt, then her own. After opening the rear door, she stepped out, pulling her daughter with her. She was careful to hold Maggie in her arms. The girl’s slippers wouldn’t provide any protection against the water flowing everywhere.

“Mommy, what happened?” Maggie asked.

“I don’t know.”

Mrs. Gunther, the retired, blue-haired woman who managed the aging apartment building, spotted her and hurried over.

“Ashley, you’re not going to believe it. The main water pipe broke about an hour ago. It’s a mess. From what I’ve learned, it will take a week to repair the damage. They’ll escort you inside to get whatever you can carry out, then we have to make other arrangements until the pipe is repaired.”

Jeff watched the last trace of color drain from the woman’s face. Defeat clouded her eyes, making her tremble. Or maybe it was the fever.

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” she whispered.

The old lady patted her arm. “I’m in the same situation, dear. Not to worry. They’re opening a shelter. We’ll be fine there.”

Maggie, the moppet with dark curls and a far-too-trusting smile, looked at her mother. “What’s a shelter, Mommy? Do they got kittens there? Real ones?”

“I—I don’t know.”

Ashley shifted her daughter’s weight, then stared at the gushing building. “I need to get my textbooks and notes. Clothes for us, some toys.”

“They’ll escort you in,” the old woman said. “I’ll watch Maggie while you’re there.”

Suddenly Ashley seemed to remember him. She turned and blinked. “Oh, Mr. Ritter. Thanks for the ride. I, um, guess I need to get my things out of your trunk.”

She moved to the rear of the vehicle and waited until he’d popped open the trunk. When she swung the tote bag onto her shoulder, she had to take a quick step to steady herself.

“Are you going to be all right?”

The question surprised them both. Jeff hadn’t planned to ask it. He told himself that her situation wasn’t his problem. The woman would be fine in a shelter. His gaze drifted to the little girl all in pink. He was less sure about her doing well under those circumstances.

“We’ll be great.” Ashley gave him a false smile. “You’ve been too kind already.”

It was his cue to leave. Normally he would have melted into the crowd and been gone before anyone knew he was even there. Instead he lingered.

“You can’t take her there,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “It’s not right.”

“She’ll be fine,” Ashley assured him. “We’ll be fine together.”

He told himself to step back, to not get involved. He told himself— “I’ll pay for a hotel room if you’d like.”

Her eyes were an odd hazel color. Neither blue nor green. Not brown. Some swirling combination of all the colors.

“You’ve been very kind already. Goodbye, Mr. Ritter.”

She dismissed him. He accepted her decision, but before she took a step away, he slipped one of his business cards into her jacket pocket. It was an impulsive act, so unlike him. Later he would try to figure out why he’d bothered. Then he did what he was good at. He blended in, moving toward his car. In a matter of seconds, he was gone.

“You plan on joining the conversation anytime soon?”

Jeff looked at his friend and partner, Zane Rankin, and shrugged. “I’m here.”

“Physically. But you keep drifting off. Not like you at all.”

Jeff returned his attention to the plans on the table without acknowledging the truth of Zane’s words. Jeff was having trouble concentrating on the work at hand. He knew the cause—he couldn’t get the woman and her child out of his head and he didn’t know why.

Was it their circumstances? Yet he’d seen hundreds in worse trouble. Compared to a war-torn village with its winter food stores destroyed, Ashley Churchill’s plight was insignificant. Was it the child? The girl? Maggie’s bright smile, her foolish trust, her pink pajamas and stuffed, white cat were so far from his world as to belong to a distant universe.

Did it matter why they haunted him? Better the living than the dead who were his usual companions.

There were no answers to any of the questions, so he dismissed them and returned his attention to the diagram of a luxury villa overlooking the Mediterranean. The private residence was to host a secret gathering of several international business executives who were responsible for the manufacture of some of the world’s most deadly weapons. The threat of industrial espionage, terrorist attack or kidnapping would be high. He and Zane were to provide the security. Step one: learn the weaknesses of the location.

Jeff pointed with his pen. “All this has to go,” he said, indicating a lush tropical garden creeping down a hill.

“Agreed. We’ll use the latest class-ten sensors, hiding them on what’s left.”

The new high-tech sensors could be programmed to ignore the movement of the security team, yet pick up the wanderings of a field mouse at fifty yards.

“What about—”

The buzz of his intercom interrupted him. Jeff frowned. His assistant, Brenda, knew better than to bother him and Zane while they were involved in tactical planning. She would only do so if there was an emergency.

“Yes,” he said, as he tapped a button on his phone.

“Jeff, I know you’re busy but you have a call from a downtown shelter. About a Ms. Churchill and her daughter. I didn’t know…” His normally take-charge assistant sounded fairly flustered. “Is she a friend of yours? Or should I take a message?”

All of his senses went on alert. “Put the call through,” he instructed.

There was a moment of silence, followed by Brenda’s voice politely saying, “Mr. Ritter is on the phone now.”

“This is Jeff Ritter. How can I help you?”

“Oh, Mr. Ritter. Hi. I’m Julie, a volunteer at the shelter. Ashley and Maggie Churchill are here. The problem is Ashley is very sick. Too sick to stay, but she’s refusing to go to a hospital. As she only seems to have the flu, I can’t blame her. But we don’t have the facilities to take care of her. We found your card in her jacket pocket and I was wondering if you’re a friend of the family.”

Jeff knew what she was asking. Would he take responsibility? He reminded himself that Ashley Churchill had already refused his offer to pay for a hotel. Then he remembered the defeat in her eyes when she’d seen the ruin that was her home. She was sick, she had a child and nowhere to go.

It wasn’t his problem, he reminded himself. He didn’t get involved. Not ever. According to his ex-wife he had the compassion of the devil himself and a heart made of stone. Telling the shelter volunteer he wasn’t anything to the Churchill females was the only thing that made sense.

“Yes, I’m a friend of the family,” he said instead. “I’ll be right there to pick them both up. They can stay with me.”

Chapter Two

Ashley tried to remember when she last felt this horrible. It wasn’t just her unsettled stomach, the pounding in her head or even the weakness that invaded her body. She’d reached the absolute low point of her life. In one morning she’d lost her job and her home, and now she and her daughter were being thrown out of the temporary shelter. In her head she knew that it was wrong of her to stay and expose everyone to the flu. There were several elderly residents, along with mothers with babies. But in her heart she felt incredibly alone. Where were she and Maggie supposed to go? She didn’t have the money for a hotel, and even if she did, Ashley knew she was close to physical collapse. If—or rather when—that happened, who was going to watch over her daughter?

Involuntarily her eyelids closed. She desperately wanted to sleep. She wanted this horrible nightmare to end. And just once in her life, she wanted someone else to take charge and make everything better. She wanted to be rescued, just like in those fairy tales she read to her daughter. However, it seemed unlikely a handsome prince would show up to take her away from all her troubles and…

A shadow fell across the cot. Even with her eyes closed Ashley noted the sudden darkening. She forced herself to gather her last bit of strength and look at her visitor. Probably the shelter volunteer, Julie something, who had gently explained she couldn’t stay.

But the person looming over her wasn’t a too-perky student from the nearby college. Rather he was tall, silent and frighteningly familiar. Not a handsome prince, but the evil wizard—a creature both powerful and deadly.

She knew she was hallucinating, because there was no way her soon-to-be ex-boss was really gathering her up in his arms. She was still lying on the cot, imagining it, she told herself even as powerful male strength surrounded her. The illusion was surprisingly real and in it, he carried her as easily as she carried Maggie.

“You’re staying with me until you’re better,” Jeff Ritter said.

She blinked. The voice sounded genuine and she felt the soft whisper of his breath across her cheek as he spoke. Now that she made herself think about it, she could feel the smooth wool of his suit where her hand rested just below his collar at the back of his neck. She blinked, not sure what was real and what was fever induced.

“Are you carrying me?”

Gray eyes stared into her face. “You’re sicker than I thought.”

True or not, it wasn’t much of an answer.

“We can’t—” She pressed her lips together. What couldn’t they do? She couldn’t remember.

“You’ll be safe at my house,” he told her.

Safe? Not likely. Suddenly she was being lowered into nothing. She clutched at Jeff, then sighed in relief when he settled her onto a chair.

“Collect her things,” he said to someone just out of Ashley’s field of vision.

“I’ll get her shoes.”

The last statement, spoken in her daughter’s bright, cheerful voice, brought Ashley back to the land of the living faster than any drug.

“Maggie?”

“She’ll be fine.”

She shook her head slightly and ignored the subsequent wooziness. With a couple of deep breaths, she managed to clear her head enough to focus on the man crouched in front of her. She hadn’t been mistaken—it was Jeff Ritter, all right. Still dressed in his well-tailored suit, still looking distant and the tiniest bit scary.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“Because you’re too sick to stay at the shelter. I’m taking you home until you’re on your feet.”

She wiggled her sock-clad toes and wondered if he had any idea that she felt as if she was going to be sick forever.

“We can’t,” she told him. “I mean, we don’t even know you.”

His steel-gray eyes stared directly into hers. She searched for some flicker of warmth, of humanity, but there was nothing but her tiny reflection in his irises.

“What do you want to know?” he asked. “Should I give you a list of references?”

That would be a start, she thought, but didn’t dare speak the words.

Surprisingly Jeff reached out and touched her cheek with his fingers. Just a fleeting moment of contact, during which she felt heat and amazing gentleness.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you or Maggie. You’re sick. You need a place to stay. I’m offering one. End of story. I won’t hurt you or pressure you.”

“But…”

“You have anywhere else to go?” he asked.

She shook her head. She wished the answer were different, but it wasn’t. Her solitary job meant she didn’t have any work friends, and she was always rushing into class from dropping Maggie off at school or hurrying out of class to pick up her daughter, so she’d never had time to make friends at the university. Her only acquaintances were her neighbors who were in the same situation she was.

“Mommy, here are your shoes.”

She was more awake now and could offer her daughter a hug and her thanks when the happy little girl returned with her athletic shoes.

Before she could bend over and loosen the laces, Jeff took them from her and began slipping the right shoe on her foot.

The touch of his hand on her ankle was surprisingly intimate. She felt embarrassed and light-headed. The latter sensation could have been from the fever she was fighting, but she didn’t think so. Still, it was equally unlikely it was because of what Jeff was doing. He was being kind, nothing more. He was a stranger. A slightly scary stranger. She thought of him as an ice-cold killer, not an attractive man.

“Mommy helps me with my shoes, too,” Maggie offered, leaning against Ashley. “With my pink shoes, she has to tie the bow two times instead of just one, ’cause they’re so long.” Her voice indicated her reverence at the additional work her mother was willing to perform.

“I think I can get by with just one bow,” Jeff said, as he finished with the first shoe and started on the second. “Are you ready to go?”

“I need a coat,” the girl informed him.

“Do you know where yours is?”

Maggie nodded, then took off in the direction of their cot. Ashley waited until Jeff finished with her shoes and straightened.

The room wasn’t spinning so much now and her head felt slightly more clear than when she’d first awakened. Her body still ached and she knew she looked horrible, but as long as her brain continued to function, they would be fine.

“You’re acting as if it’s all decided,” she said.

“Isn’t it?” He jerked his head toward the cot where two members of the volunteer staff were already collecting her things. “You need time and a place to recover. I can provide both.”

“I want to trust you. As you’ve already learned, I’m running out of options. But I still have questions. I don’t know why you’re doing this.”

For the first time since he arrived, he wouldn’t meet her gaze. He looked over her head, but she doubted he was seeing the bustling activities in the temporary shelter. He’d gone somewhere else, and based on what she knew about it, it wasn’t a place she wanted to know about.

Finally he shrugged. “I’m under my good-deed quota for this lifetime.”

It wasn’t an answer. It wasn’t even a good fake answer. She had the sudden thought that maybe he didn’t know why he was doing it, either. Which was scary, but not as scary as having nowhere to go. It all came down to whether or not she trusted him. Ashley looked into his face, the strong bone structure, the empty eyes. He had a scar by his mouth and the few gray hairs at his temples. Both her gut and her daughter said he was safe. Was that enough?

“I’m a member of the Better Business Bureau. Does that help?”

The corners of his mouth turned up. The smile transformed him, making him handsome and approachable. It also made her heart beat just a little faster and her breathing increase.

The flu, she told herself. A physical manifestation of her virus. Nothing more.

“Thank you,” she said, pushing herself to her feet and swaying slightly before she gained her balance. “I’m very grateful for your assistance.”

“You’re welcome.”

There was a plus to all this, she thought. If Jeff turned out to be a nice guy in disguise, maybe she could convince him not to fire her from her cleaning job. Then in a few short days, she could return to her regular life and pretend none of this had happened.

The security-soldier business paid better than she’d realized, Ashley thought thirty minutes later when Jeff pulled into the driveway of a two-story glass-and-wood house more than halfway up Queen Anne Hill. The view through clouds and light rain was impressive, with Lake Union down below and the west side of the city visible across the water. She could only imagine how beautiful it would be when the weather was nice.

“Is this yours?” Maggie asked excitedly from the back seat of the luxury car. “It’s so big and pretty. Do you have kittens? There’s lots of room for them. If you wanted to get one, I’d help you take very good care of it.”

“Ever hopeful,” Ashley murmured. “Maggie is desperate for a kitten.”

“I’ve noticed.”

On their way over from the shelter Maggie had talked about kittens and her school and how nice everyone at the shelter had been. It gave the adults a break from having to make conversation. Ashley, for one, was grateful.

“Where’s your ’partment?” Maggie asked as they waited for the garage door to open. “Is it up high? Mommy and me live on the top floor and sometimes it’s fun to look out at the city or watch when the storms come. And in the summer when it’s hot, we open all the windows, ’cause no one can climb in when we’re up so high.”

Jeff turned off the engine and shifted to face the little girl. “It’s a house, Maggie,” he told her. “I live here by myself. While you and your mom stay here, I want you to be very comfortable.”

Maggie’s eyes widened. “It’s just you here? Don’tcha get scared being all alone?”

Ashley winced. Until this moment she’d never realized that her daughter hadn’t ever lived in a house before. They’d always been in apartments.

“Sometimes it’s quiet,” Jeff admitted. “But I don’t mind that.”

He was about to have a couple of days of nonquiet, Ashley thought. Maggie was a sweetheart and very well behaved, but she was a walking noise machine.

He unfastened his seat belt. “Let’s get you two inside and settled. I’ll bring your bags in later.”

Ashley nodded. She could feel the weariness settling over her again. Her consciousness through the drive here had taken the last of her reserves. All she wanted was to sleep for the next four or five weeks.

Jeff climbed out of the car, then opened the rear door to assist Maggie from the vehicle. Ashley trailed after them as they went up the two stairs that led to the main house. Before he opened the door, Jeff punched a long code into a keypad. There was an audible snick as the locking mechanism released. She had a brief thought of armed guards waiting on the other side and chuckled at the image of them walking through metal detectors before entering the living quarters of the house.

But whatever security measures existed were concealed because all she saw when she stepped inside was space.

The rooms were huge and sparsely furnished. Jeff showed them the living room, dining room and a study. Only the latter contained any evidence that a person actually lived in the house. The living room had two sofas, a couple of club chairs, along with low tables and a few lamps. But there was nothing personal or decorative. No pictures or photographs on the walls, no magazines, plants or even a pair of shoes marred the solitude. The dining room was the same. A massive table surrounded by chairs. A matching hutch—the glassed-in top of which was empty.

Cream carpet and pale walls added to the sense of space, as did the floor-to-ceiling windows in both the living room and dining room that offered a view of the lake and the shore beyond. The study was at the rear of the house, looking out on extensive gardens. At least here there were papers on the desk and a few books scattered on the leather sofa across from the fireplace.

Ashley looked around without saying anything, then followed Jeff into his huge kitchen. She took in the oversized refrigerator, the six-burner stove and the impressive collection of copper pots hanging above the tiled island.

“You must entertain a lot,” she murmured, not able to imagine such a thing. With someone else maybe, but not Jeff Ritter. He didn’t appear to be the entertaining type.

“No. It all came with the house.” He motioned to the refrigerator. “I eat out, or at the office. There isn’t much in the way of food. When I get you settled, I’ll take Maggie and go to the grocery store.”

She wanted to protest. Surely there was enough for them to get by until she was feeling better. She didn’t want to impose. Impulsively she opened the refrigerator, about to make that point. However, the point went unmade.

The interior of the gleaming metal refrigerator was empty. Not just echoing with the stereotypical bachelor fare of beer and condiments. It was as empty as a showroom model. Ashley swallowed, then moved to the pantry. Those shelves were neatly papered and just as bare.

Jeff cleared his throat. “Like I said, I don’t eat here much.”

“Ever,” she corrected. “How can you not have coffee?”

Instead of answering, he indicated that they should follow him toward the staircase at the rear of the house. On the landing it split in two directions. He took the stairs on the right.

“This is the guest wing,” he said. “The two bedrooms share a bathroom.”

He opened doors, leading the way to well-furnished bedrooms, one larger than the other. The bathroom setup gave them each a vanity and mirror, while they shared the toilet and bath. Maggie hurried to the window seat in the smaller room and knelt on the yellow cushion.

“I like this,” she said, holding her stuffed cat close to her chest and smiling. “I can see the water.”

“Good.”

Ashley hoped her voice sounded pleased. She was having trouble forming the words as her strength faded. She made her way back into the larger of the two rooms. As it had been downstairs, the furniture was exactly right but there were no homey touches. The walls were blank, as were the surfaces of the dresser and nightstands, except for a clock radio silently illuminating the time.

Ashley found she didn’t care about decorating or empty refrigerators. Exhaustion descended with no warning, sucking up the last of her strength, leaving her shaking and breathless.

Jeff seemed to figure out her problem. Without saying anything, he drew back the covers on the bed and urged her to sit on the clean sheet.

“You need sleep,” he said, reaching for her shoes and tugging them off. “I’ll take care of Maggie. Just rest.”

She started to protest. She had to give her daughter instructions to be good, to listen to Jeff and to come running to her if she was afraid. Even as she stretched out on the bed she thought it might be a good idea to stay awake for a while to make sure everything was all right here in the beautiful house on the hill. She ought to—

Jeff watched Ashley fight against exhaustion. Slowly her eyes closed and her breathing slowed.

“We’ll be going out for food,” he murmured as she drifted off to sleep. “We’ll be back soon.”

She didn’t respond. Maggie bounced into the room, her mouth open to speak. She stopped when she saw her mother asleep, pressing her lips together and then looking at him.

He walked to the door and motioned for her to follow. When they were out in the hall, he stared down at her, wondering what he was supposed to do now. Food, he thought. They had to get food. He hesitated, not sure if he’d ever gone grocery shopping before. As he’d told Ashley, he ate all his meals at restaurants, or at work. It’s not that he didn’t know how to keep food in the house, he simply didn’t bother. Despite the furniture in the rooms and his clothes in his bedroom closet, this wasn’t his home. It was a place to sleep and work after hours. Nothing more.

“We’re going shopping,” he announced. “The grocery store.”

Maggie hesitated before nodding her agreement. She looked so small standing there in her pink jeans and pink-and-white plaid knit sweater. Two tiny clips held her dark curls off her face. Her Cupid’s bow mouth quivered slightly.

Not knowing what else to do, Jeff crouched in front of the child. “You know your mom is sick, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Her grip on the battered stuffed cat tightened.

“She has the flu. Do you know what that is?”

“It’s what I had last week. I was very sick and I got to watch TV in Mommy’s bed and eat Jell-O whenever I wanted.”

Was that kid paradise? He didn’t know. “But you’re better now, right?”

Another nod.

“So you know your mom is going to be fine in a few days. I don’t want you to worry about her.”

Maggie gave him an impish smile. “I know you’ll take care of her.”

He hadn’t thought about his responsibility in quite those terms, but if it made the kid happy to think that, he wouldn’t disagree. “Are you nervous about being with me?”

Delicate, dark eyebrows drew together. “What’s nerv-nerv-What’s that?”

“Nervous. Upset. Afraid. Anxious.” His explanation didn’t seem to be helping. He searched his memory for a word a four-year-old could understand. “Scared.”

This time, instead of smiling, she laughed. “I’m not scared. You like us.”

She spoke with a conviction he both envied and admired. If only all of life were that simple, he thought as he rose to his full height.

“Then let’s go to the food store.”

Maggie trailed after him as they made their way to the car. Jeff hesitated, then decided not to set the alarm in the house. He figured the odds of Ashley opening a door or window were greater than someone breaking in during the short time he would be gone.

He held the back door open for the little girl, then helped her fasten her seat belt. She gazed at him trustingly as he secured her in the car. She sniffed loudly.

“Your car smells nice.”

“It’s the leather. I’ve only had the car a few months.”

Her eyes widened. “It’s new? You have a new car?”

Her tone of reverence made him wonder if Ashley had ever had a new car. Based on her current circumstances, he doubted it. At least not in the recent past. There were so many things in his life that he took for granted.

“I have to call someone I know,” he said as he slid into the driver’s seat. “I need to ask her what to buy to make your mom feel better.”

“Jell-O,” Maggie said firmly.

“Okay, but she’ll need other stuff, too.” He was thinking in terms of liquids. Or was that for a cold? His first-aid training ran more in the direction of gunshot wounds or emergency amputations.

He backed out of the driveway, then touched a button. A mechanical voice asked, “What name?”

“Brenda,” he replied.

Maggie stared at him. “The car is talking!”

He felt himself smile as the sound of a phone ringing came over the built-in speakers. It was nearly five-thirty. Brenda might have gone home.

But his assistant was still at the office. When she answered, he explained that he was taking care of a friend with the flu and needed her advice on what to buy at the grocery store. Also, what would be appropriate to serve a four-year-old for dinner.

With that he glanced at the girl. “Say hi, Maggie.”

Still wide-eyed and clutching her stuffed, white cat, Maggie licked her lips. “Hi,” she whispered tentatively.

“That was Maggie,” he said helpfully.

“Uh, hi, Maggie. Nice to talk to you.” His assistant’s tone of voice warned him that he would be getting a major third degree when he saw her in the morning.

“Do you even know where the grocery store is?” Brenda asked when she’d recovered from her shock.

“I have a fair idea. I was thinking of soup and juice. Liquids for the flu, right?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s right. As for dinner for the little one, there are lots of options. Rule number one is the less sugar the better. Are you cooking or heating?”

Ten minutes later he had a list along with instructions. Brenda cleared her throat. “Are they going to be staying with you for a few days?”

“Yes. Why?”

“If the mother isn’t feeling well, then she won’t be up to watching her child. Maggie, do you have a preschool you go to?”

The little girl beamed at being included in the conversation. “Uh-huh. Right by Mommy’s school. I stay there until two.”

“Ashley is a student at the University of Washington,” he clarified.

“Which means she’ll be missing class while she’s sick.”

He heard Brenda writing on a pad of paper. “Can we send someone to sit in for her?” he asked.

“Sure, but I need her schedule of classes first. Some lecture notes are available online. Also, Maggie will need a sitter for the afternoon. I can arrange that. What’s your student friend’s name?”

“Ashley Churchill. She works for us.”

There was a moment of silence. Jeff could practically see Brenda’s surprise. She knew everyone who worked for Ritter/Rankin Security.

“The cleaner?”

“Yes.”

“How did you meet her?” She coughed. “Sorry. It’s not any of my business, of course. I’ll get on all of this and call you later tonight.”

“Thanks, Brenda. I appreciate the effort.”

His assistant laughed. “No problem. You know I’m desperate to break into the spy business. There has to be a market for fifty-something operatives. Finding this information will be good practice.”

“I’d be lost without you in the office. I can’t afford to let you go into the field.”

“So you keep saying. But I think you’re just being kind and trying to not hurt my feelings. Oh, well. I’ll call you later, Jeff. Bye, Maggie.”

“Bye,” Maggie piped back.

Jeff disconnected the call, then wondered how Brenda could ever be foolish enough to think of him as kind.

Chapter Three

“They’re very good,” Maggie said earnestly.

They stood in the cereal aisle of the large grocery store just down the hill from Jeff’s house. He’d never been inside in all the time he’d lived in the neighborhood. He doubted Maggie had been here, either, yet she led the way like an expert, wielding her miniature shopping cart around other patrons, calling out names of favorite brands and making decisions with the ease of an executive. Now she held out a box of Pop-Tarts and gave him a winning smile.

“I had them at Sara’s house. Her mom fixed them for us. She said only kids could eat something that purple.” Her smile broadened. “I said that the purple is the best part.”

He looked doubtfully at the picture on the box. It showed a toaster pastry covered with vivid purple frosting. Just the thought made his stomach tighten. In this case, he’d have to side with Sara’s mom.

“You really want those?” he asked, not sure how that was possible.

Maggie nodded vigorously, making her dark curls dance around her head.

“Does your mother buy these for you?”

Big blue eyes suddenly turned away from him. She became intensely interested in the contents of her cart, rearranging the three frozen kid meals he’d bought her. Finally she returned her gaze to him and slowly shook her head.

“No.”

Outside of his abilities, he didn’t count on very much in the world, but he would have bet his life that Maggie Churchill was incapable of lying—whether because of her age, her character, her upbringing or a combination of the three. He didn’t think he’d ever met anyone like her before.

“Would you really eat them if we got them?”

Questions filled her eyes. Questions and hope. She practically vibrated her assent.

“All right.” He tossed the package into her tiny cart. “If you’re sure.”

She gazed at him as if he’d just created a rainbow right there in the grocery store. She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his legs and squeezing tight.

“Thank you,” she said fervently. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

He hadn’t known she could be anything but.

They continued their shopping, going up and down each aisle. Jeff found that buying bread for sandwiches also meant buying something to go in between the slices of bread. Maggie favored peanut butter and jelly. He thought her mother might appreciate something more along the lines of sliced turkey or beef. Which meant an intense discussion on mustard versus mayonnaise, and an interpretation of whether or not Maggie’s shudder at the thought of pickles meant her mother didn’t like them, either.

The girl’s cart was already full and his was nearly so when they turned the corner and found themselves in the pet food aisle. Maggie touched a can of cat food and sighed.

“Do you have a kitty?” she asked, sounding hopeful. “I didn’t see one but maybe she was asleep.”

“Sorry. No pets.”

“Why? Don’tcha like them?”

“Cats?” He’d never thought about them one way or the other. Dogs could be a problem. Dogs made noise, alerting people to the presence of intruders. More than one mission had nearly been compromised by the unexpected presence of a dog. But cats?

“I travel a lot,” he said, then hesitated. Conversing with Maggie was both easy and difficult. He didn’t mind spending time in her company, which surprised him, but he wasn’t sure what to say. How did people talk to children? He only knew how to talk to adults.

“Pets are a big responsibility,” he continued. “It wouldn’t be fair to the animal to leave it alone all the time.”

She considered his statement, then nodded slowly. “Mommy and I are home plenty, but she says we can’t have a kitten just yet. They can be expensive. Not for her food, but if she got sick or somethin’. Mommy gets sad about money sometimes. She cries in the bathroom.” Maggie pressed her lips together. “I don’t think I’m supposed to know, but I can hear her, even with the water running. Can you make Mommy not be sad?”

He wasn’t sure what to do with the information Maggie shared. Based on the little he knew about Ashley’s situation, he wasn’t surprised by her financial concerns. But he also wasn’t willing to take on responsibility for her emotional state.

“Your mother isn’t sad now,” he said, sidestepping the issue.

Maggie thought for a moment, then nodded her agreement. “Mommy’s happy.”

Jeff thought that might be a stretch. Ashley might be relieved to be out of the shelter, but he doubted she was pleased with her present circumstances. His guess was she wouldn’t rest easy until she had her life back in order.

While Jeff heated soup in a pan on the stove, Maggie watched her frozen kid’s dinner as it warmed in the microwave. The entrée had come with a small toy, which she clutched in her hand as she danced from foot to foot, waiting for the timer to beep.

“I like chicken,” she announced. “And macaroni and cheese. I’ve never had them together before.”

It didn’t sound like much of a treat to him, but then, he wasn’t four. After stirring Ashley’s soup, he returned to the task of putting away the rest of the groceries. As the pantry shelves were bare, it didn’t take long. He put milk and juice into the refrigerator, along with several cartons of yogurt. Frozen foods went into the freezer.

Grocery shopping and cooking had to be two of the most normal activities, and yet they all felt foreign to him. He didn’t eat yogurt from a carton. The last time he’d had the stuff had been during a covert operation in Afghanistan and the goat responsible for the yogurt had watched him warily, as if to make sure he swallowed every spoonful.

He stirred the soup again, then checked on Maggie’s dinner.

“Twenty more seconds,” she told him, never taking her gaze from the timer.

He dug through kitchen cupboards, pulling out a bowl from a set of dishes he doubted he’d ever used. He also unearthed a wooden tray. After rinsing and drying the bowl, he poured the soup, then, along with a spoon, set it on the tray, next to some toast and a glass of juice. When the microwave beeped, he lifted Maggie’s dinner onto the tray, along with cutlery and a drink, and started toward his guest’s room.

“I get dessert later, right?” Maggie asked, confirming the reality of her purple Pop-Tart.

“Absolutely. We’ll get your mom settled first, though.”

“Okay.”

He waited while Maggie pushed open the door, then he stepped into Ashley’s room. Light spilled out from the bathroom, but the bedroom itself was in twilight. He could make out her still figure on the bed. Her eyes were closed, her breathing even.

He was about to retreat, taking Maggie with him, when the four-year-old flew at her mother and pounced onto the mattress.

“Mommy, Mommy, we brought dinner. There’s soup for you and chicken pieces and macaroni and cheese for me. And Mr. Ritter got me Pop-Tarts and they’re purple!”

Ashley came awake slowly. She opened her eyes and smiled at her daughter, then shifted her gaze so she could take in the room. He both felt and saw the exact moment she noticed him. For a second she looked confused, then she blinked and the questions in her eyes were gone.

Jeff was pleased she didn’t appear frightened. He doubted the circumstances were to her liking, but she was in no condition to change them. He’d said and done as much as he could to convince her she was completely safe in his company, but it would take time and experience for her to learn that she could trust him.

“I brought dinner,” he said as he flipped on the floor lamp. “Do you think you can eat?”

“I’m going to eat with you,” Maggie said, sliding off the bed and walking to the small table by the window. “Is here okay?”

“It’s fine, sweetie.” Ashley shifted until she was in a sitting position, her back against the headboard. She rubbed her eyes, then looked at the tray. “I’m not hungry, but I haven’t had anything since dinner last night, so I should probably try to get something down.”

He served Maggie first, carefully putting her entrée in front of her, then setting out a fork, a glass of milk and three napkins. When he carried the tray to Ashley, he noticed that she’d changed her clothes while they’d been gone. She’d traded jeans for sweatpants and her blouse for a loose T-shirt, both in faded navy.

She was pale, with dark circles under her eyes. Sleep had mussed her dark hair. While it wasn’t as curly as her daughter’s, it was thick and wavy, falling just to her shoulders.

“Maggie promised that you like chicken soup,” he said adjusting the tray so the legs bracketed Ashley’s slender thighs.

“What’s not to like?” she said, picking up a spoon and taking a sip. “It’s great.” She paused and looked at him. “You’ve been more than kind. I really appreciate it. We’ll be out of your hair by morning.”

“I doubt that,” Jeff told her. “You’re sick. You’re going to need a few days to get your strength back. I want you to feel comfortable enough to do that here.”

Her hazel eyes seemed more blue than green or brown. Was it the hour of the day or a reflection of her navy T-shirt? Her arms were thin…too thin. Maggie had a sturdiness about her, but Ashley looked as if a slight breeze could blow her away.

As he continued to stare, he noticed a flush of color climbing her cheeks. At first he thought it was from her fever, but then he had the sudden thought that she might be uncomfortable with his scrutiny. He shifted his attention to her daughter.

“Maggie was a big help at the grocery store,” he said. The little girl beamed at him.

“I can only imagine,” Ashley said dryly. “She convinced you to buy Pop-Tarts.”

“I wasn’t a hard sell.”

“Mr. Ritter has a magic car,” Maggie said between bites of chicken. “A lady spoke to us from the air and everything.”

Jeff pulled out the second chair at the small table and sat down. “I called my assistant from the car, using the speakerphone. I needed some menu ideas.”

“She was very nice and said hello to me,” Maggie added.

The girl had finished most of her macaroni and cheese, although she wore a good portion of the sauce on her face and hands. Jeff studied the shape of her eyes and her mouth, then glanced at her mother, trying to figure out what traits they shared.

Ashley’s features were slightly more delicate. The eye color was different, as well. Did Maggie’s blue eyes come from her father?

Ashley tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, using her left hand. Jeff had already noted that she didn’t wear a ring, but now he looked to see if there were any telltale marks showing one had recently been removed. He didn’t see any tan lines or indentations. A divorce? he wondered. Although having a baby didn’t require a woman to marry, Ashley struck him as the marrying kind. He didn’t think she would have chosen to have a child on her own. Not without a good reason.

“Is there anyone I should phone?” he asked. “A relative out of state, a friend?”

She paused in the act of drinking her juice and carefully put down the glass. “You mean to let them know where I am?”

“Yes.”

A shadow slipped across her eyes and she looked away from him. He could read her mind as clearly as if she spoke her thoughts. The truthful answer was that she was all alone in the world. If there was no one to care about her, then there was no one to worry if she and her daughter disappeared.

He leaned toward her. “I’m not going to hurt you, Ashley.”

She smiled without meeting his gaze. He hated that the fear was back in her eyes. “I know. I wasn’t thinking that at all. You’ve been very good to us.”

“Your parents?” he asked, knowing he shouldn’t pry.

“Grandma’s in heaven with Daddy,” Maggie piped up. She’d finished her dinner and was carefully wiping her hands with a napkin.

Ashley a widow? Jeff frowned. She was too young, barely in her mid-twenties. What had happened? A car accident? Murder? Did her husband’s death account for her difficult financial circumstances?

Before he could decide if he could ask any or all of those questions, his cell phone rang. He excused himself and stepped into the hall.

“Ritter,” he said into the instrument.

“It’s Brenda,” his assistant said. “I have been my normal efficient self. Are you ready?”

“Just a second.” He pulled a notebook and a pen from his suit pocket and started walking toward his study downstairs. “Go ahead.”

“I’ve found a sitter for Maggie tomorrow afternoon. It’s one of her teachers from the preschool. So not only is the woman qualified and trustworthy, but Maggie already knows and likes her. Next, I have Ashley’s schedule of classes in front of me. She has two tomorrow. They’re advanced classes and don’t have Internet lecture notes so I’ve been in touch with an off-campus service that specializes in taking notes. They will attend both lectures for her and provide me with typed notes by two tomorrow afternoon.”

“I’m impressed,” he said, sliding behind his desk and settling on his leather chair. “How’d you find her class schedule?”

Brenda chuckled. “I was about to get all high-tech and then I remembered she works here. Her Social Security number is on the job application in her personnel file. After that, it was easy. After all, I’ve learned from the best.”

“Do you mean me or Zane?”

“I refuse to answer that,” she said, her voice teasing. “I’ll drop by about seven tomorrow morning to help get the little one ready.”

“Do you think that’s necessary? She seems fairly self-sufficient.” After all, she’d talked him into getting just about everything she wanted at the grocery store.

“Do you really want to deal with getting a four-year-old girl ready for school? I’m talking about picking out clothes and doing her hair.”

He hadn’t thought that part through. “I guess not. Seven sounds fine. I appreciate this, Brenda.”

“I know. I just wish you’d let me go into the field. I’d be great.”

“Your husband would kill me.”

“Probably, but I’d have a fabulous time.”

He tried to imagine his fifty-something assistant slinking along the banks of a Russian river, waiting to make a drop.

Brenda sighed. “I know, I know. I don’t speak any languages, I’m wildly out of shape, but hey, a girl can dream, right?”

“Absolutely. And comfort yourself with the thought that I’d be lost without you.”

“I know.” She chuckled. “See you in the morning, boss.”

“We’ll be here.”

He pushed the “end” button and terminated the call, then went back upstairs so he could return to Ashley’s room and collect the tray.

He found the larger guest room empty and the sound of running water and laughter coming from the bathroom. Jeff quickly picked up empty dishes and set them on the tray. He was nearly out the door when Ashley appeared.

“I thought I heard you return,” she said, leaning against the wall by the bathroom. “Thanks for making dinner. I’m going to give Maggie a bath, then come down with her while she has her dessert. We’ll read for a bit and both be in bed by eight.”

Weariness darkened her eyes and pulled at the corners of her mouth. She was attractive, in a slender, delicate sort of way.

“You look like you could use a good night’s sleep,” he said.

She studied him. “I can’t decide if I should ask you again why you’re bothering, or simply be grateful.”

“How about just thinking about getting well?”

She tilted her head slightly. “My daughter thinks you’re a very nice man.”

“Your daughter is trusting.” Too trusting.

“She hasn’t had a chance to learn otherwise.”

She’d made a statement but he wondered if it was also a warning. As in Don’t teach her differently. Don’t give her a reason not to trust.

Jeff wanted to reassure her that he had no intention of destroying Maggie’s illusions about the world. Time would take care of that, and far too quickly for his taste. Oddly, he liked knowing that somewhere a four-year-old little girl laughed with glee because there were Pop-Tarts and kittens.

“Who are you, Jeff Ritter?”

No one you want to know. But he didn’t say that aloud because it would frighten her. “A friend.”

“I hope so. Good night.”

She turned back to the bathroom. He left her bedroom and walked down to the kitchen where he loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher then thought about fixing dinner for himself. There were sandwich ingredients and frozen dinners, soup, chili and a couple of apples.

But instead of preparing a meal, he walked into the living room and stared out into the night. The light rain had stopped although clouds still covered the sky. Jeff looked into the darkness, trying to ignore the sense of impending doom. He felt the familiar clenching of his gut and knew that trouble lay ahead. As he wasn’t on a mission, he didn’t know what form the trouble would take. Obviously it had something to do with the woman. With Ashley.

Even from this distance, he could sense her in the house. Her soft scent drifted through the air, teasing him, making him wonder how it would feel to be like other men.

His footsteps crunched on the path that led through the center of the village. It was night, yet he could see everything clearly. Probably because of the fire.

The flames were everywhere, licking at the edges of the shabby structures, chasing after the unwary residents, occasionally catching someone off guard and consuming them in a heartbeat.

The fire was alive, fueled by dry timbers and a chemical dreamed up in a lab thousands of miles away. Jeff was familiar with the smell, the heat and the destruction. He hated the fire. It showed no mercy. At times he would swear he heard it laughing as it destroyed.

It was only after he’d gone into the center square of the village that he became aware of the sounds. The crack of timbers breaking as they were consumed, the gunshot sound of glass exploding, the screams of the villagers. The soft crying of a lost child.

He knew this village. Every building, every person. He knew that just beyond the rise in the path was the river. He could walk through the fire again and again and never be touched. Because this village was a part of him, a creation of his mind and he was drawn to it night after night. No matter how he fought against the dream, it pulled him in, sucking him toward hell as surely as the fire crept toward the truck at the edge of the square and caught it in its grasp.

A sharp cry caught his attention. He turned and saw a teenage girl running from a burning building. A support beam creaked and tipped, then fell toward her. Jeff saw it happen in slow motion. He took one step, then another. He reached for the girl, determined to pull her to safety. He put out his hand.

She reached toward him in response. Slowly, achingly slowly, she raised her head until she could see him. Then her mouth opened wider and she screamed as he’d never heard another human being scream before. Sheer, soul-numbing terror.

She jerked away from him and ran toward the river. The support beam tumbled to the ground, narrowly missing her as she fled. Jeff took a step after her. Only then did he notice that all the villagers were racing away from him. They pointed and screamed, acting as if he were a threat worse than the fire.

An aching coldness filled him. Unable to stop himself, he walked toward the river, toward the small pool fed by the flowing water. Fire raged all around him, but he remained untouched by the destruction. People ran past him, screaming, darting out of his way. A mother raced by, a toddler in her arms. The small child cried when he saw Jeff, then ducked his head into the curve of his mother’s neck.

They ran and ran until he was alone. Alone and standing by the pool. And even though he didn’t want to look, he couldn’t help himself. He knelt by the still water and waited for the smoke to clear enough for him to see his reflection.

Then he knew why they ran, why they screamed in terror. He wasn’t a man. Instead of his face, he saw the cold metal features of a mechanical creature. A robot. A metal being not even remotely alive. Fire danced over him, but he couldn’t feel it. Nor did it hurt him. He couldn’t be burned or damaged in any way. He could only terrify…

Jeff woke in a cold sweat, the way he did every night after the dream. There was no moment of confusion. From the second consciousness returned, he knew exactly where he was and what had happened. He also knew he wouldn’t sleep for several hours.

He rose and, in deference to his company, pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt. Then he left his bedroom, prepared to wander through the house like a ghost. Silent, alone, living in the shadows. He tried not to think about the dream, but he was, as usual, unsuccessful. He knew what it meant—that he didn’t see himself as human. That he considered himself little more than a machine of destruction. But knowing the truth of the message wasn’t enough to make it stop.

As he moved down the hall, he felt a change in the night air. Not a disturbance, just something…different. He could sense the presence of his guests.

Unable to stop himself, he headed in the direction of their rooms. Maggie’s door was partially closed. He stood in the hallway and looked in on her.

She slept in the center of the double bed, a small figure guarded by her menagerie of stuffed animals. She was curled up, the blankets tucked around her, sleeping soundly, breathing evenly. A dark curl brushed against her cheek.

He remembered her trust, the sound of her laughter, her delight at the speakerphone in his car. She was a magical child, he thought gruffly, as he noticed one of her fluffy cats had tumbled to the ground. Silently he stepped into her room and put the toy back on the bed. Then, because he couldn’t stop himself, he moved through the connecting bathroom and into Ashley’s room.

Her sleep was more troubled than her daughter’s. She moved under the covers. Her face was slightly flushed, but when he touched her forehead, he didn’t feel any heat.

Who was this woman with no family and such dire circumstances? From what he could observe, she was bright and capable. What had happened to bring her to the place where she needed to depend upon his good graces?

Knowing he wasn’t going to get any answers, he left her room and walked downstairs. In the living room he walked to the windows and stared out into the night. For the first time since he’d moved into the house, he wasn’t alone. How strange. He was always alone. No one came here. Certainly no one had spent the night. When there were women, he visited them. He had an animal’s need to protect its territory. Yet he had been the one to invite Ashley and her daughter here in the first place. What did that mean?

He asked the question and received no answer. So he moved into his study where he turned on his computer. Ashley Churchill intrigued him. So he would find out what he needed with his special programs and secret information. When all was revealed to him she would cease to be anything but a woman and then he could easily let her go.

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