"What happened?" Brayden demanded.
"Nothing like what you're thinking. Calm down. Take a deep breath. Colton had a bad dream, that's all, and he's asking for you. He's pretty upset—"
That was all Joe had to say. "I'm on the way." He hadn't wanted his son to have a nightmare, but it gave him a much-needed excuse to get the heck out of there.
He needed to get out there.
"Wait," Joe added. "Colton said I'm to tell you something else."
Brayden listened to the request and even had Joe repeat it. No, he hadn't heard wrong.
"I'll be there in ten minutes," Brayden said, though he wasn't quite able to suppress a groan.
"Is Colton all right?" Ashley asked the moment he hung up the phone.
"He's fine. He had a bad dream."
Relief went through her eyes, and he saw her shoulders relax. "Okay, just go. I'll set the security system, and I'll be fine. Go," Ashley repeated when he didn't budge. "He wants to see you."
"Not just me," Brayden corrected, mentally replaying what Joe had told him. "He wants to see you, too."
"Oh."
Brayden didn't know which one of them was more surprised, but from the look on her face, Ashley won the prize.
"I'll just put on my shoes," she said, already moving in that direction.
Ashley certainly wasn't declining the request. Not that Brayden had expected her to. And while he wanted his son's request to be filled, that request didn't do much to fulfill his own needs.
So much for breathing room.
So much for space.
He'd wanted to distance himself from his problems, for at least a few hours anyway. But one of those problems, perhaps the most troubling one of them all, would be right by his side.
Chapter Nine
Ashley rushed through her shower. Rushed to dry off. Then she just kept rushing while she pulled on an ankle-length chocolate-brown skirt and an ivory cable-knit sweater.
She checked the clock again. It was nearly noon. Way too late for her not to have made more progress. And worse, after all that sleep, she still didn't feel rested. The fog was thick in her head.
The last thing she remembered after coming back from their all-night hospital visit with Colton was crashing face first on the guest bed. Where she'd apparently stayed for six straight hours. During that six hours, she'd wasted valuable time she'd needed to prepare herself for this day.
The day Colton would come home from the hospital.
It was also the day Brayden and she were supposed to do a repeat of their baby-making attempt. Best not to dwell on that, though. Lately, her body seemed to be devoting too much attention to such matters.
Matters that involved Brayden's hands on her.
Pushing those matters aside, while at the same trying to put on the socks that she'd wear with her boots, Ashley hurried into the kitchen, only to find it empty.
"Brayden?" she called out.
"I'm in the bedroom."
At the sound of his voice, she practically sprinted down the hall toward his room. "Why didn't you wake me?" Ashley asked, finger-combing her wet hair. She leaned her back against the doorjamb so she could put on her other sock.
He was at the desk, gulping down some coffee, the phone tucked against his shoulder. His attention wasn't on the coffee, the phone call or even her. It was on his computer screen. Not Dana's file, she noticed, but an e-mail of what appeared to be police work. Work with the bold word PRIORITY at the top of the page.
Ashley didn't even want to speculate about how far behind he was because of Colton's situation. Brayden was an important man in SAPD, head of Homicide, and homicides didn't stop simply because his attention was required elsewhere.
"You needed some rest," he explained in answer to her question.
He needed his rest, as well, but he'd probably gotten far less sleep than she had. He looked exhausted. And worse. He looked weary.
His hair was still damp, probably from a recent shower, but he'd skipped the shave. Desperado stubble shadowed his chin. It matched the smudgy lack-of-sleep shadows beneath his eyes. Somehow, even with all that and the rumpled jeans and cotton shirt, he managed to look, well, hot.
Of course, she was beginning to think it was a normal occurrence for Brayden to look hot.
Mercy.
Lusting after her former brother-in-law.
It could only lead to more feelings of guilt and that was something she didn't need. She had enough guilt to last her a couple of lifetimes.
"You should have gotten me up sooner." Hoping the clock in the guest room was wrong, she checked the time on the bottom panel of his computer. Nope. It wasn't wrong. "Aren't we supposed to pick up Colton in a half hour?"
"I talked to his doctor a little while ago. Colton's release has been delayed."
Well, her lust guilt were replaced with a rush of undiluted panic. Hopefully, Colton hadn't gotten sick after they'd left.
Brayden lifted his index finger in a wait-a-minute gesture and readjusted the phone so the speaker portion was closer to his mouth.
"Yes, that's right," he said to the person on the line. "The physician filling in for Dr. Underwood gave me your number."
Dr. Underwood. So, the call was about the insemination and not Colton. Ashley didn't know whether to be relieved or not. Apparently nothing serious had happened to Colton, or Brayden would have been at the hospital.
While he listened to the caller, Brayden typed in something on the computer—an e-mail response regarding a homicide—and hit the send button. He scrolled down to the next e-mail in the inbox.
"I'm trying to confirm the time and the place," Brayden continued. Again, not to her. To the person on the phone. "When I spoke to the doctor a couple of hours ago, he was still setting everything up."
Yep. She'd been right. Brayden had gotten less sleep than she had. In fact, he'd probably gotten no sleep. Instead, he'd been fighting through red tape, and she should have been fighting right alongside him.
"Okay," he said several moments later. Not a plain okay either, but a surprised one. "Yes, that's fine. Thanks for your help."
He clicked off the phone, gave her a glance and tackled the e-mail again. "Colton's doctor wants to give him another checkup. Nothing major, but he can't be at the hospital until at least four. We can pick up Colton right after the doctor's finished."
Ashley nodded, relieved that it wasn't a serious delay. "What was that about confirming a time and a place?"
"For the repeat insemination. I finally found a doctor. She's on staff at a hospital across town, but she's willing to come here to the house to do it."
"Oh. Okay." She hoped she didn't sound disappointed. "How long did it take for you to arrange that?"
"Most of the morning. Not too many physicians are available on a weekend for what's considered a routine procedure. Plus, there was a liability problem with using hospital facilities. The doctor finally decided the only way we could get this done today was for her to make a house call. I'm just thankful she was willing to do it. Oh, and I did a background check on her, and she has great references. A top-notch OB-GYN, so we're not getting a quack."
Great. He'd spent all morning on the phone rather than sleep. And all so he wouldn't have to do a repeat performance with her.
She understood that.
But it still hurt.
Worse, Ashley didn't want to think about why it hurt. Fortunately, Brayden quickly gave her something else to consider.
He extracted a photo from the stack of papers on his desk and passed it to her. "Recognize him?"
Ashley studied his face before glancing at the grainy photo. This definitely wasn't about the insemination. This was about the stalker.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
It was a photo taken at an ATM machine. The guy was a white male. But that was about all she could determine. He wore a baseball cap, and he had the brim pulled down to cover his forehead. It also created a dark blotch over the lower par
t of his face.
"Who is he?" she asked.
"Jerome Knollings. Or whatever his real name is. He's our van driver who cruised past the house night before last."
Her gaze fired to the photo again for a more careful examination. It didn't help. If it was Hyatt, Trevor or Miles, they'd disguised their appearance.
Which wasn't a comforting thought.
Ashley shook her head, wishing that she could put a name on that face. "What about the woman up the street that you mentioned, the one who'd recently taken out a restraining order—maybe this is the guy she's trying to restrain?"
"We're looking into that."
"But it's probably not him?"
He didn't answer. Brayden simply made a sound that could have meant anything. Or nothing.
When he started to dial another number, Ashley caught his hand.
"Let me give you a situation report, lieutenant. You've had no sleep. You're under extreme stress. And your little boy is coming home in a couple of hours. Put Jerome Knollings on the back burner and take a nap."
But he didn't. Brayden just sat there and rubbed his other hand over his face. "I can't—"
"You can. Colton's going to need you, and you'll be absolutely no good to him if you don't rest."
"I need to make another call."
"I'll do that for you," she insisted.
He shook his head. "It's about the, uh, collection part of the insemination."
Ashley had already opened her mouth to interrupt him again, but she stopped. Well, that uh stopped her anyway. "What about it? Is there a problem?"
"The doctor suggested I do the collection here. To save some time. I need to find out how far in advance, or if she just wants me to wait until she arrives."
"And just when is she supposed to arrive?"
"That's the up-in-the-air part, but she thought she could be here in about two hours. If not, then it'll have to be tonight after she's made rounds at the hospital."
Ashley went through a mental timetable. With the collection, waiting for the doctor to arrive and the procedure itself, it could pose logistics problems for picking up Colton. Or worse, Colton's welcome home might even be cut short because of the procedure. Cut short so Brayden could avoid touching her.
In addition to making her feel like a leper, all these arrangements were starting to rile her. "So, let me get this straight. Even though you're exhausted and even though the insemination might interfere with your plans to pick up your son, you're going to go through with it anyway?"
Ashley didn't finish the rest of that thought. Didn't want to finish it. Because it was a ridiculous objection. Of course, Brayden didn't want to touch her.
She shouldn't have wanted to touch him, either.
But she apparently did.
And that riled her even more.
Mercy, she was stupid. Her body was stupid. Her thoughts were stupid. Why was she having these feelings anyway? They made no sense. None. And one way or another, she intended to rid herself of them.
Brayden hissed out his breath. "Ashley, I didn't—"
"Forget what I just said. Blame it on fatigue. Coffee deprivation. Full moon. Take your pick, and just forget about it." Ashley paused only a second. "Listen, do the collection, give it to me, along with the phone number of the doctor, and I'll take care of the rest. You'll pick up Colton."
"You're upset."
Not with him. But herself. "You didn't listen to what I said. You were supposed to take your pick. My advice? Blame it on the lack of coffee because I'm in dire need. Which is my reminder to grab a cup while you're taking care of that collection."
She turned to leave, but he latched onto her arm. "Why are you so upset?"
Except he didn't ask. He demanded. There was anger in it. And the fatigue that'd been on his face just moments earlier had dissolved. In its place, Ashley saw the effects of that anger. His iron jaw. Tight mouth. Narrowed eyes. Even his nostrils flared.
"Why are you so upset?" Ashley countered, certain she was exhibiting some of those same facial anger indicators as well.
"Because I know what you're thinking."
"I seriously doubt that." She jerked her arm from his grip, turned and actually made it a step before he caught her. Brayden whirled her back around to face him.
Not gently, either.
He leaned closer. Too close. Right in her personal space. "I'm not—"
"Interested," she interrupted. "I know. Neither am I. So, whatever you feel you have to say, keep it to yourself."
Amazingly, his jaw got even tighter. "No."
"No?" she questioned, surprised.
"No. Because there's no reason for you to be hurt—"
She slung off his grip again so she could throw her hands in the air. "Now, we're talking about hurt? I don't think so." Ashley huffed. "Can we just please drop this?"
He didn't.
He caught her arm again. Ashley tried to get out of his grip—again. Brayden didn't budge.
Neither did she.
She spun around, moving him with her, and his back landed hard against the wall. It didn't put any distance between them since he took hold of her other arm, holding her in place.
Right in front of him.
Looking at him wasn't something she needed at this particular moment. Their anger took on an edge, a dangerous edge. One that stirred things deep inside her. It broke down boundaries that were better left well-defined.
My, the thoughts she had. Bad thoughts. That involved her putting her mouth to his and taking everything.
"Brayden," she warned.
The grip he had on her melted. He lowered his hands, pressed the back of his head against the wall and groaned. He opened his mouth to say something but then apparently changed his mind.
Okay. The boundaries were still intact, for the most part. With the exception of those troubling thoughts. And that was her signal to leave. Ashley turned, but Brayden slid his arms around her waist and pulled her closer until her back was against his chest.
Not the best of positions.
Not with them touching.
He was solid. Not in a bulky buffed-up sort of way. Lean. Strong.
Warm.
Definitely warm.
His breath hit against her neck. It was hot. Quick. His pulse and heartbeat must have been pounding because she could feel it everywhere they touched.
Or maybe that was her own heartbeat.
It was impossible to tell, since they were so close. Plastered against each other, it was also hard to tell where his body ended and hers began.
It was hard to tell a lot of things.
Except his scent.
That scent was distinctive. Unforgettable. Something dark and male. Definitely not tame. Dangerous, even. Yet, it stirred her blood. Stirred her body.
And the heat rolled through her.
Ashley closed her eyes, slowly, afraid that Brayden would maneuver her around so she'd have to face him. She wasn't sure she could do that. But he didn't maneuver her anywhere. He kept the pseudoembrace, even tightened it, and he put his mouth against her hair.
Not a kiss. Just a touch of his mouth. A touch that kicked up that heat a notch.
It was wrong to want him. So wrong. But it didn't matter. Because Ashley didn't stop. Neither did Brayden. He moved his body forward, pressing hard against her. And not just hard. Aroused.
She could feel him. Every inch of him. That hard ridge straining in front of his jeans. How would it feel if he took her right there?
Ashley wanted to be disgusted with herself. With him. But that wasn't the reaction she had. Far from it. She wanted more. She wanted him.
She wanted Brayden.
Ashley leaned back, angling herself, sliding her right hip against his erection. Slowly. Deliberately. Knowing exactly what she was doing to him.
What she was doing to herself.
She angled her head, too, so that his mouth wasn't on her hair, but on the side of her face. Warm flesh against warm flesh. S
till not a kiss, but it was just as effective. Maybe more. Because this was forbidden. Taboo. And for some reason that only made her want him more.
Brayden released the hold he had on her waist. His hand skimmed down her left hip, and he caught a handful of her skirt. Gathering it up. Tugging. Pulling. Dragging the fabric and his fingers along the outside of her bare thigh.
It lit a dozen fires along the way.
He didn't stop there.
With his mouth still on her cheek, moving and pressing, he slid his hand across her thigh to the front of her panties, hooked his fingers onto the elastic.
And he slipped his hand inside.
Ashley arched her back and moaned.
This wasn't some test, like the night before, to make sure she was ready for him.
Not this.
This had an entirely different purpose. He eased his hand between her legs so he could slide his fingers over that sensitive bud of flesh and slip them inside her. This was meant to pleasure her, and it worked.
It. Worked.
The world blurred. Her body turned soft. Preparing itself. For him. For Brayden.
Because she suddenly wanted him more than her next breath, Ashley didn't voice the objection waiting in the back of her mind. Instead, she let him touch her.
Rough, almost frantic slippery strokes.
While his mouth feasted on her cheek and neck. While his erection pressed against her thigh. Until she couldn't think. Until she couldn't breathe.
He didn't stop there.
Brayden kept touching. Kept pleasuring her. His thumb brushing high against the most aroused part of her, while those clever fingers found a different spot. Inside her. Inches inside her. Stroking it, too. In perfect rhythm with the movements of his thumb.
Ashley felt her legs give way. And she was falling. Except she didn't. Brayden didn't let her fall. He was right there to catch her.
They both sank to the carpeted floor on their knees, with him still behind her. With her leaning against the bed. With him leaning against her. With him still touching her with those maddening strokes.
The fire blazed through her, and she reached for him. Sliding her hand over the front of his jeans. Matching his strokes with some of her own. Until the pace was frantic. Unbearable. Until it took them to a place where mere strokes were no longer enough.
Santa Assignment Page 8