to be her innocent vulnerability. Or maybe the way she had placed her hand over her stomach as if to protect his child…from him.
Her attempt to keep him from his child—same as his father had done fifteen years ago by forcing him to sign relinquishment papers—had frustrated him. But her gesture to safeguard their baby had also endeared her to him, making him question whether suing for custody was really best.
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
She shook her head, wariness clearly visible in the way her hand trembled as she tried to put her key in the lock. “No, I came straight from work.”
“I know it’s late, but I’d like to resolve this tonight.”
After her two unsuccessful attempts to open the door, Hunter reached over her shoulder. Her cold fingers convulsed beneath his, but she finally surrendered her keys.
Hunter unlocked and opened the door, already worrying about how she would respond to his demands. He didn’t want to upset her but couldn’t stand the pain of losing another child.
The chronic self-doubts that had plagued him since meeting Ashley earlier that day made no more sense than the other things he had observed about her. Things he had no business noticing. She wasn’t a criminal, and he wasn’t acting in an official capacity. She was only a woman who had become a victim of circumstance. And he was only a man. Maybe that was the problem. When had he last been Hunter Morgan, the man and not the assistant district attorney? When had he last been with a woman who smelled so good, someone who made him realize how long it had been? Obviously, too damned long.
Ashley stepped inside and flipped on the light. “Come in.”
In the cramped entryway a miniature flute-shaped vase filled with tiny pink flowers sat on a small half-moon table. Prim and proper. Delicate. Like the woman.
He noticed the way she arched her back as if easing the kinks from sitting long hours at a computer. “You look beat.”
“I am, but I don’t want to put this off.”
“I won’t take long, maybe thirty minutes. I’ll heat the burgers and we’ll talk while you eat.” He refused to acknowledge the connection he’d felt with her when she’d earlier tried to guard his child. He hadn’t felt anything like that…ever. He tried to push the thought from his mind. Thinking about it might convince him to go away, leave her in peace, forget he was going to be a father, something he couldn’t do. He dreaded what he was about to say to her, because it would be irrefutable evidence that he truly was the ruthless bastard everyone believed.
She tried to hide a yawn behind her hand, then glanced once more at the sack. “We were so busy, I didn’t get lunch either and, even cold, food of any kind sounds beyond great. Thank you, Mr. Morgan, for bringing dinner.”
“Hunter,” he said. “Call me Hunter.”
Ashley studied his face a long moment as if trying to read him. “All right, Hunter. Let’s eat. You can have your say, then I’ve got something I need to tell you.”
Her willingness, even eagerness to talk, came as a surprise. He would do his best to get this over with fast, because she looked as if she was about to collapse. He might be hard-nosed, but he wasn’t totally without feelings. Odd that it should be this woman who reminded him of that.
Her obvious exhaustion made him wonder if maybe he should let her off the hook tonight and reschedule their meeting. But something he couldn’t grasp pushed him to settle things. If he didn’t know better, he would think it was fear. Fear that even though he had legal rights, she would turn this into a nasty, prolonged custody battle that would keep him from his child. Fear that she might disappear without a trace or miscarry as had happened before.
Ashley directed him to a too-small kitchen decorated with bright sunflowers while she pulled her arms from her coat and tossed it over a chair. “How much do I owe you for dinner?”
He found the microwave in a corner and popped the bag and all inside. “Don’t worry about it.”
Ashley dug in her purse, then stuffed a five-dollar bill into his jacket pocket. “That should cover it.” She turned on her heel and opened an overhead cabinet.
When she stretched on tiptoe to reach the glasses, Hunter moved behind her. “Here, let me get those for you.”
She spun around and pressed against him in all the wrong places. Damned if it didn’t feel right.
He lowered his arms on either side of her, watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest as he settled the glasses on the counter behind her. Her scent, a unique blend of sensuality and wholesomeness, swirled around him. She smelled damned good.
She cocked her head to the side and looked at him with luminous eyes which mirrored her perception and wariness.
Realizing she had said something, he asked, “What?”
“The microwave,” she said, her voice unsteady, little more than a whisper. When he continued to stare at her, she pointed behind him. “It dinged.”
“Yes, I heard it.” He hadn’t, but wasn’t about to tell her. In fact, he had been so engrossed in her mouth Hunter doubted he would have heard the civil defense sirens. With one last glance at her enticing lips, he forced himself to step away.
“I hope water is okay,” Ashley said. Without waiting for his answer, she opened the refrigerator and leaned forward to fill two glasses from a plastic jug.
“Water’s fine.” He tried to ignore the way her skirt hugged her slender hips and backside, but failed. Miserably. Yes, he needed water. Lots of water to put out the still-smoldering flames of desire she had ignited earlier when he’d held her in his arms. Again he wondered what it was that attracted him to this particular woman? What aroused him, had him acting like an awkward teenager on his first date? Hell, she wasn’t even his type. At six feet two inches, he preferred tall, leggy blondes who reached his shoulders. Ashley didn’t come close. And her hair was auburn, not blond. Not that it mattered.
Her shoulder-length hair and wraithlike stature had nothing to do with why he had waited two hours on the steps, sheltered from the pouring rain. He had come for one reason—to claim his child. It was time he put his libido under lock and key and got down to business. Too much was at stake to be distracted by a pretty face. Yeah, Ashley Morgen was pretty, more than pretty. He’d spent a lot of time with beautiful women, but he had no idea what to do with one pregnant with his baby.
Calling on every ounce of discipline, he withdrew the sack from the microwave and followed Ashley to a flowered couch in a cracker-box living room that fit her perfectly. It made him feel clumsy and out of place.
When she arched her back again, he asked, “Rough day?”
“You could say that,” she muttered, putting their drinks on the coffee table. “My boss suspects something is going on between you and me. When I tried to leave, he reminded me having anything to do with you is a breach of confidentiality. He’s right, you know.”
“It’s only a breach if we talk about cases. Since that’s not why I came, there’s no problem. If you’re concerned about appearances, we could go somewhere else.”
“No. I can’t afford for us to be seen together at night.”
He
