before spotting Ash sitting in the living room watching for her.
She couldn’t believe it.
She’d never known him to actually free up time before, so she hadn’t really taken his threat to do it now too seriously. At the most, she’d expected that he might do business from his cabin at the lodge for a few days, popping up once or twice in the evenings before being called away again.
But there he was, in the middle of the day, with a cup of coffee in one hand, an open briefcase on the table in front of him, a file folder in his lap and papers scattered around as if he’d been there for a while already.
“Morning. Not that it still is. Have you been upstairs asleep all this time?” he greeted amiably.
But Beth was not feeling amiable about his being there. Nor was she going to admit that she’d been awake but crying over his old things. “What are you doing here?” she demanded ungraciously as she crossed to the living room.
“Exactly what I said I was going to do. My calendar is clear and I’m all yours.”
Her heart took a wild skip at that but she tamed it in a hurry. He hadn’t been all hers when they were married, he certainly wasn’t now. “This is crazy. You’re a busy man, I don’t need or want a shadow, so why don’t you just get in your car and—”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he told her with enough finality to end her rebuttal. He scooped all the papers into the file, deposited it in the briefcase and closed it with a loud snap that seemed to seal the end to the argument. Then he stood.
And she wished he hadn’t.
He had on a black T-shirt that smoothed across his broad shoulders and stretched so far around his biceps that the seams were strained. Gleaming against the mock turtleneck just below his throat he wore a talisman he was never without—a burnished copper eagle arrowhead hanging from a thin black cord. His stomach was perfectly flat beneath the taut knit, and when her gaze drifted down that washboard hardness she found a pair of tight, faded blue jeans.
No one could do for a pair of jeans what Asher Blackwolf could.
They rode low on his narrow hips and cupped his every bulging muscle like a second skin. Beth had always loved the way jeans looked on him, though she didn’t get to see the look often because he didn’t spend a lot of time dressed that casually. Maybe part of the reason she liked it so much was that those rare occasions meant she really did have him all to herself.
But she didn’t want him all to herself anymore, she reminded herself. She couldn’t.
“What’s on your agenda today? You looked as if you were headed out,” he said, drawing her attention away from his appearance.
“I have errands to run,” she answered, her words clipped and her irritation sounding.
“Great. I’ll drive.”
“ Shopping errands,” she said, upping the ante. “You know, the kind of thing Miss Lightfeather does instead of you?”
He ignored the barb and repeated, “I’ll drive.”
“This is ridiculous. The things I have to do today will bore you to tears and they don’t have anything to do with the baby.” Well, that wasn’t exactly true, but the errand she needed to run that did have a connection to the baby was not one she wanted Ash’s company on—she needed maternity bras.
“You’re not getting rid of me, Beth.”
“There just isn’t a point to this,” she insisted, exasperated by his stubbornness. “How about if I agree to start sending you a newsletter? I’ll write once a week, tell you about every ache or pain or twinge I have, keep you completely updated. You’ll know as much about my heartburn as I do. It’ll be the same as being here, only you can go on about your business and so can I.”
His expression said he was annoyed with her, but he merely tilted his head and stared at her out of the corner of his eye. “I’ll drive,” he repeated yet again.
The way he’d angled his chin had given her a view of the fading bruise left by
She couldn’t believe it.
She’d never known him to actually free up time before, so she hadn’t really taken his threat to do it now too seriously. At the most, she’d expected that he might do business from his cabin at the lodge for a few days, popping up once or twice in the evenings before being called away again.
But there he was, in the middle of the day, with a cup of coffee in one hand, an open briefcase on the table in front of him, a file folder in his lap and papers scattered around as if he’d been there for a while already.
“Morning. Not that it still is. Have you been upstairs asleep all this time?” he greeted amiably.
But Beth was not feeling amiable about his being there. Nor was she going to admit that she’d been awake but crying over his old things. “What are you doing here?” she demanded ungraciously as she crossed to the living room.
“Exactly what I said I was going to do. My calendar is clear and I’m all yours.”
Her heart took a wild skip at that but she tamed it in a hurry. He hadn’t been all hers when they were married, he certainly wasn’t now. “This is crazy. You’re a busy man, I don’t need or want a shadow, so why don’t you just get in your car and—”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he told her with enough finality to end her rebuttal. He scooped all the papers into the file, deposited it in the briefcase and closed it with a loud snap that seemed to seal the end to the argument. Then he stood.
And she wished he hadn’t.
He had on a black T-shirt that smoothed across his broad shoulders and stretched so far around his biceps that the seams were strained. Gleaming against the mock turtleneck just below his throat he wore a talisman he was never without—a burnished copper eagle arrowhead hanging from a thin black cord. His stomach was perfectly flat beneath the taut knit, and when her gaze drifted down that washboard hardness she found a pair of tight, faded blue jeans.
No one could do for a pair of jeans what Asher Blackwolf could.
They rode low on his narrow hips and cupped his every bulging muscle like a second skin. Beth had always loved the way jeans looked on him, though she didn’t get to see the look often because he didn’t spend a lot of time dressed that casually. Maybe part of the reason she liked it so much was that those rare occasions meant she really did have him all to herself.
But she didn’t want him all to herself anymore, she reminded herself. She couldn’t.
“What’s on your agenda today? You looked as if you were headed out,” he said, drawing her attention away from his appearance.
“I have errands to run,” she answered, her words clipped and her irritation sounding.
“Great. I’ll drive.”
“ Shopping errands,” she said, upping the ante. “You know, the kind of thing Miss Lightfeather does instead of you?”
He ignored the barb and repeated, “I’ll drive.”
“This is ridiculous. The things I have to do today will bore you to tears and they don’t have anything to do with the baby.” Well, that wasn’t exactly true, but the errand she needed to run that did have a connection to the baby was not one she wanted Ash’s company on—she needed maternity bras.
“You’re not getting rid of me, Beth.”
“There just isn’t a point to this,” she insisted, exasperated by his stubbornness. “How about if I agree to start sending you a newsletter? I’ll write once a week, tell you about every ache or pain or twinge I have, keep you completely updated. You’ll know as much about my heartburn as I do. It’ll be the same as being here, only you can go on about your business and so can I.”
His expression said he was annoyed with her, but he merely tilted his head and stared at her out of the corner of his eye. “I’ll drive,” he repeated yet again.
The way he’d angled his chin had given her a view of the fading bruise left by
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