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Tiredness swept over her and she realized she simply didn’t have the energy to resist him. “Pick me up at nine.”
“I’ll bring breakfast.” A beep sounded in the background. “I’ve got a message coming in I’ve been waiting for.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“I have to take it.”
“Okay.”
Still he hung on; she could hear him breathing into the phone. “We’ll work it out, Ashley.” Finally he disconnected.
She stared at the phone, stunned. He’d actually sounded halfway human. Of course, Jason’s idea of working things out would doubtless involve him demanding and her acquiescing.
Setting aside the cell, she returned to the sofa to lie down. Exhaustion had been one constant during her pregnancy, made even worse by the extra burden on her body. As she lifted her feet onto the sofa arm and tucked pillows under her head, she considered how she would deliver the rest of the news to Jason. What if that was the tipping point that sent him running? Would that be better than having to grapple with the discomfort his presence stirred up inside her?
She’d prepared herself to do this on her own. How would she fit Jason into the picture? Her father had shown her the ugliness of men, the horror they could inflict on women. Jason would never raise a hand to her, but he was so reserved, so cold, she couldn’t imagine him letting her get very close. And what kind of father would such an aloof man be to his children?
He’d been anything but icy that night. She still wasn’t sure how it had happened. If not for the life growing inside her, she could almost believe the fire and passion six months ago had been a dream.
She couldn’t think about it now. The exhaustion had seeped even deeper, driving thought from her mind. The faintest rustling in her belly a comfort, she surrendered to sleep.
Jason stabbed the disconnect button on his cell and resisted the urge to slam the device on his desk. He’d expected the conversation with his stepmother, Maureen, to be difficult; he hadn’t anticipated such a nasty confrontation.
Usually, he just ignored his stepmother’s diatribes. But when she started in on Ashley, it was all he could do to keep his temper in check, to keep from roaring out at the injustice as he had as a child. All those years of careful self-control nearly went out the window. So he’d held his tongue as Maureen played every card in her deck of accusation and condemnation, calling him an idiot for falling prey to Ashley six months ago, and his decision to accept her child as complete insanity. She accused Ashley of using the baby as a ploy to force him to marry her so she could get her hands on the Kerrigan money. His repeated assurance that marriage most definitely wasn’t in the cards barely appeased his stepmother.
She’d insisted he demand a DNA test the moment the baby was born. Ranted that by acknowledging the child without any empirical proof was further confirmation of his father’s error in placing Kerrigan Technology into his son’s hands. He would drive the company into the ground, destroy his father’s life’s work.
His father had nearly done that on his own with a few bad decisions not long before the heart attack that killed him. His acquisitions of a struggling digital media company and a moribund Internet-based data storage firm had nearly broken the company’s back.
He ran his fingers lightly over the keyboard of his laptop. A half-dozen high-priority e-mails awaited his immediate response. A security report required his input, as did a stack of résumés from applicants for a VP of marketing position. He had plenty to occupy himself with tonight.
But with Ashley so close, he couldn’t seem to think straight. It made no sense, when he’d barely given her a second thought since he’d left Berkeley.
That wasn’t entirely honest. Sometimes, during strategy sessions with Kerrigan’s Marketing Department or the interminable discussions with his father’s estate lawyer, she’d drift into the periphery of his consciousness. Sometimes it would just be her face in his mind’s eye, sometimes that one incredible night of pleasure would unroll like a movie, obliterating any other thought.
Those images invaded now, drumming through him, scents and sensations as real as if she sat beside him. He grabbed the bottled water on the table beside his laptop and gulped down half of it. Dumping it on his head would have been more effective.
He felt so antsy in the small, overdecorated room, the prospect of waiting until tomorrow morning to see her again seemed unbearable. Especially with the specter of his interaction with Maureen still fresh in his mind. He wanted to stand in the same space as Ashley, breathe in the scent of her skin, let the silk of her hair stroke his palm.
He was half out of his chair, hand on his car keys before he stopped himself. Dropping the keys on the small table he’d made into his desk, he forced himself to sit, to focus on his computer.
He tapped at the keyboard until his hands were stiff and his neck ached. Ashley’s face kept floating up like a screensaver on the laptop, her sweet smile, her soft brown gaze fixed on him. Likely, whatever he’d typed in those e-mails he’d sent over the last few hours would be unreadable garble and he’d end up sending them all over again tomorrow.
When his stomach rumbled, he was shocked to see it was nearly eight o’clock. He rose, tried to stretch out the kinks in his back. As small as it was, the room was the largest the inn had to offer, with a queen-size bed wedged between two side tables, an armoire and the worktable squeezed in at the other end. It wasn’t a business suite by any stretch of the imagination, although some might call its frilly touches homey.
Not like any home he’d ever lived in, though. The Kerrigan mansion had been furnished by a professional interior designer, each piece chosen to suit Maureen’s taste. Every room seemed staged, with just the right painting on the wall precisely placed above outrageously priced antiques. The house might as well be a museum.
And yet…there was a memory, buried away, of a different place, a tiny cottage north of San Francisco, its rooms packed with mismatched furniture, its walls crammed with pictures. He’d been five when Kerrigan Technology had taken off, when they’d moved to the mansion. In the three years before his mother died, she’d never quite put her touch on that expansive Tudor in San José.
He pushed up the window fronting Main Street to let in the cool evening air. Hart Valley had just about rolled up its sidewalks for the night, nearly every storefront dark. Only Nina’s Café across the street was still open, but the last car parked out front pulled away as he watched.
Thank God he was only staying a day or two. He was used to the vibrancy of San José and San Francisco. This sleepy little town unsettled him, gave him too much quiet space. The high tension of the Bay Area suited him better, kept his mind active, distracted him from the darkness that always edged his life.
Headlights approaching from the other direction caught his attention. The car, an old-style VW bug, slipped into the parking slot next to his. A woman stepped from the car, the dim light from the Hart Valley Inn sign revealing the gold-red color of her hair. Ashley. She was here.
His heart thundered at breakneck speed, and he gripped the windowsill as she lifted her gaze to the inn’s second floor. She found his window, although it wasn’t the only one lit. The VW’s door still open, she stood there, frozen. She looked ready to climb back into the car.
Don’t go! The sound of his own voice rang in his ears, and he realized he’d said it out loud. In the preternatural silence of Main Street, she had to have heard. Still she clung to the car as if planning her escape.
Finally she slammed the door shut and started for the inn’s front door. Relief surged through him. It alarmed him that her arrival meant so much to him, and he clamped down on the emotions that threatened to bubble up.
Backing from the window, he looked around the room and realized how hazardous it would be to have her here, especially after their close call in her living room. He’d catch her downstairs before she came up. They could meet down in the parlor where the inn hosts set up coffee in the morning.
By the time he stepped out onto the landing, Ashley had already reached the bottom of the stairs. Her beauty stunned him momentarily, so she’d climbed several steps before he could speak.
“I’ll come down,” he told her, starting toward her.
Gripping the rail, she hesitated. “I have to talk to you.”
He stopped on the step above hers. “You’d better not be here to tell me to leave.”
“I’m not,” she said, tension edging her tone.
“We can’t go to my room.”
Heat flared in her eyes. “No. We can’t.”
He edged past her, putting out a hand. “We’ll sit downstairs.”
He might as well have been offering her a snake instead of his hand, but she took it. The way she leaned on him as they descended the last few steps told him she needed his help more than she would likely admit.
She let go the moment they reached the bottom, but he held on long enough to guide her toward the parlor. “Is that normal?”
Hands lightly on her belly, she glanced at him sidelong. “What?”
“You’re exhausted.” He took her hand again to help her down onto the sofa in the parlor.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She leaned her head against the unforgiving high back of the Queen Anne sofa. “It’s late.”
“It’s eight-thirty.” He sat beside her, keeping a decorous two feet between them. “At Berkeley we’d stay up all night arguing economic theories.”
She smiled, looking his way. “You argued economic theories. I lectured you on Shakespeare.”
Her eyes were half-lidded from tiredness, he realized, but he could so easily picture that red-gold head on a soft pillow, bedroom eyes beckoning him. “What did you want?”
Her gaze slid away. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
His heart pounded as irrational fear surged through him. “There’s something wrong with the baby.”
Startled, she turned back to him. “No. The babies are fine.”
His thought processes ground to a halt. Babies? He struggled to put two and two together, to come up with—
“Twins, Jason,” she said, her expression serious. “I’m having twins.”
Chapter Three
Jason pushed off the sofa so fast Ashley thought he would run the moment he gained his feet. But he only stood staring at her, the emotions in his face baffling. The shock she understood. But the flicker of sorrow didn’t make sense.
He strode across the inn’s parlor, restless as he’d been at her house. Beth Henley, the inn’s owner, had filled the small room with an eclectic mix of thrif3t shop and antique furniture, so there wasn’t much clearance for pacing. Six feet out, six feet back, Jason threatened to wear out the old-fashioned rag rug.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
“Of course. The doctor detected the second heartbeat at eight weeks.”
“And they’re both fine?” He flexed his hands as he stood over her.
“They’re perfect.”
“Do you know…”
“From the ultrasound, it looks like a boy and a girl.”
His eyes shut a moment. “Not identical, then.”
“No.” She wondered why that seemed significant to him.
He resumed his trek back and forth across the rug. “That decides it, then. You’re coming to San José.”
If her feet weren’t throbbing and her energy level near zero, she would have jumped up and throttled him. “I’m staying here, Jason. I already told you that.”
“You need to be under a physician’s care.”
“I’ve been seeing Dr. Karpoor right in town.”
“But if anything went wrong—”
“The hospital is twenty minutes away. They can life-flight me to Sacramento if necessary. I’ve got it covered.”
He seemed to stuff away his agitation, his face smoothing to neutrality. “We’ll discuss it later. When you’re not so tired.”
She would have told him there was nothing more to discuss, but her weariness had her at a disadvantage. “I’d better get back.” She pushed against the sofa’s stiff cushions.
He closed his hand around her elbow and eased her up. “I’ll take you home.”
The warmth of his hand drifted up her arm, tempting her to lean into him. “I have my own car.”
“You’re worn out. You shouldn’t be driving.”
She shook off his hand, not liking how vulnerable she was to his touch. “I’ll be fine. It’s only a few miles.”
He was ready to push the issue; she saw him mustering his arguments. He’d been on the debate team as an undergrad at Stanford. She imagined he’d been a ruthless competitor.
“Call me when you get home. Did you save my number?”
“Not yet.”
“I’ll do it.”
He put out an imperious hand. She would have walked away, but he’d come after her. Far easier to just hand the cell over to him.
With characteristic focus, he tapped the appropriate keys on the phone, then gave it back to her. “I set up a speed dial. Just press five.”
He walked her out to her car, opening the door for her and taking her hand to help her swing her bulky body inside. He didn’t let go, bending down to eye level.
He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “I can’t let anything happen to them.”
“Of course not.”
“Tell me you’ll be careful.” His gaze drilled into her.
“I will. Of course.”
He stared at her a moment more, then backed away, shutting the car door. He stepped up onto the sidewalk in front of the inn, but he waited while she started the VW and backed it out of the parking slot. She caught a glimpse of him still standing on the sidewalk in her rearview mirror just before she turned off Main Street.
He was a man with so many sharp edges, she didn’t know how she would tolerate him over the next couple of days. She’d been bossed by her sister, Sara, for years, but she’d accepted that because Sara supported them both and had to make the decisions. But Sara had gladly snipped the apron strings years ago and rarely played the big-sister card anymore. Jason’s orders rankled her.
But it was only for the weekend. Then he’d return to San José and likely their contact with each other would be limited. They’d probably have to make some kind of custody arrangement once the babies were born—a prospect that filled her with anxiety—but surely he wouldn’t want the day-to-day responsibility of raising children. It made more sense for the babies to live here. He could visit them whenever he wanted. She doubted that would be often.
As she pulled into the gate of the NJN ranch, her heart ached at the thought. While she was growing up, she would have given anything for a real father—a good man, a kind and decent man who would come watch her soccer games and school plays. Her classmates would moan and groan about their dads, how restrictive they were, how they wouldn’t let them do anything. Those same girls would be dragging their dads around on back-to-school night, showing off their artwork and science projects.
Unlocking the front door, Ashley stepped inside the quiet, empty space. She loved the little house, its tidy efficiency, its quirky lines. She’d felt comfortable here the moment she’d arrived three months ago.
But as she slipped off her sandals and padded toward her bedroom in the back, an aching loneliness washed over her. Before Jason arrived, she’d been happy in her solitary life, willing to accept motherhood on her own with the assistance of her sister and friends she’d made in Hart Valley. But Jason seemed to represent possibilities she’d made an effort to block from her mind—an intact family, a complete home.
She couldn’t let herself think about it even now. Because Jason would be gone soon, back to his own world. He’d likely try to force financial support on her, would no doubt set up trust funds for the twins. He would offer her nothing emotionally. He didn’t seem to have the capacity for it.
Pulling on a short frilly nightgown her sister had given her, Ashley climbed between the pale-pink sheets of her double bed. She’d had to give up the queen-size bed when she gave up the larger room to the babies. She didn’t need the bigger mattress anyway, living alone.
As she lay there, eyes closed, she tried to imagine Jason in the bed beside her. His serious face as he gazed down at her, stroking her cheek, pressing a kiss on her lips. His hand resting on her belly, waiting for the twins to kick. His arms cradling her all night long.
But that man didn’t really exist. Jason was only a few miles away in Hart Valley, but the real core of him might as well be in a different universe. He’d no more hold her to ease her loneliness than he would give away his millions and become a monk.
One night she’d seen more, she’d delved deeper into his soul. As much as she might want to tell herself it was only lust the night they’d made love, there had been a moment, just before passion overwhelmed him, when all the barriers had come down. It had been only an instant, then the walls had slammed into place again.
And that barricade would never fall again.
What the hell was wrong with him?
