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  Since her mouth wouldn't cooperate with an explanation of why she was there, Ashley thrust the fax at him. He looked at her. Not a glance, either. He studied her as if trying to figure out why she'd developed a case of laryngitis.

  "Did you manage to get some sleep?" he asked, finally moving his attention to the fax.

  "Some."

  Still looking at the fax, he crossed the room, picked up a pair of glasses from the nightstand and began reading it. Whatever was on those pages fully captured his attention.

  Now, there was another image that did funny things to her body. Brayden looked a little like a studious professor with those glasses and drawn eyebrows, but that studiousness only seemed to emphasize his hot nearly naked body.

  Ashley dropped back another step so that no part of her, not even a toe, was in his bedroom.

  What was wrong with her anyway?

  These feelings were just plain disturbing.

  Brayden was her former brother-in-law, for heaven's sake. She'd certainly never had these sort of thoughts about him when Dana was alive. She'd noticed he was good-looking, of course. She would have had to be blind not to notice that. But she'd never lusted after him.

  Until now, that is.

  And there was no mistake about it.

  She was definitely lusting after him.

  With his attention still on the fax, he sank down onto the edge of the bed and idly brushed his hand through his hair. Then he reached for the phone and punched in some numbers.

  "Lt. O'Malley," he said to whomever answered. "I want a situation report and follow-up on this fax."

  Okay, that was a way to get her mind off lustful thoughts. Because situation reports and follow-ups sounded urgent. Ashley prayed it didn't have anything to do with Colton or the insemination procedure.

  "I have to go into headquarters," Brayden said to her when he hung up the phone. "I'll have my sister come over and stay with you."

  His sister the cop. Ashley nodded and did some thinking.

  Brayden slipped off his glasses, tossed them back onto the nightstand and tipped his head to the computer. "If you need to e-mail anyone or do some work while I'm gone, you can use that. It's got a firewall and some modifications so it's secure. It's the same for the phone."

  Ashley mumbled a thanks. What she didn't do was leave, even though it was obvious he'd need to take a shower since he intended to go into work.

  "I wouldn't mind checking on my house while I'm here in town," she said. Not because that was what was on her mind, but because she wanted to feel him out so she would know what was bothering him. "Maybe I can drive over later?"

  "Wait until I can go with you." The words were not exactly a request. "We can swing by there tomorrow on the way to the clinic for the insemination."

  Okay. That did it. She wanted security, yes, because she wasn't stupid. But she also wanted the truth. "Does that fax and your need to go into work have something to do with the van that drove past your house twice last night?"

  He flexed his eyebrows. "I was hoping you hadn't noticed it."

  "I noticed. So, what's the verdict?"

  He glanced back through the fax again, even though Ashley was willing to bet he had already committed the pertinent details to memory. "It's not the same van that was in the parking lot at the hospital. That one was green. This one is midnight-blue, and this one was leased to a guy named Jerome Knollings."

  Not Hyatt. Or his brother Trevor. Thank heaven. But that didn't exactly cause Ashley to breathe easier. Because she knew, she just knew, that all was not well. "Knollings is an alias?"

  He nodded, eventually.

  That sent her hands onto her hips. "This feels a little like déjà vu, Brayden. Like those days when I used to cross-examine you in court and you'd give as little info as possible until I dragged it out of you."

  "There's not a lot of info to give. This guy might have nothing to do with you. There are at least a dozen reasons why someone would assume an alias."

  "Like my reason, for instance?"

  Another nod, followed by a slight scowl. "Like yours. But there are a couple of other scenarios that could be playing out here. There's a woman who lives up the street who recently took out a restraining order against her ex-husband. Could be this Knollings is after her. Or it could be just someone canvassing the neighborhood for burglaries. That kind of stuff happens all the time."

  Yes, it did. But it wasn't those particular scenarios that warranted his cop-sister staying at the house while Brayden was at headquarters. After all, there were already patrol cars driving by practically every half hour. And then there was his security system. Far better than the one she had in Virginia. Yet, Brayden still thought his sister's presence might be necessary.

  Why?

  "Look, this Knollings guy might be legit," Brayden continued. "He might have nothing at all to do with you. Nothing. Cruising down streets at midnight wasn't your stalker's MO. He was a caller, a letter writer. That kind of sicko likes to keep some physical distance between him and his target. That's not what Knollings was doing."

  True. But that didn't mean her stalker hadn't changed his preferred method of operation. And that gave Ashley a whole new set of concerns.

  Huge concerns.

  If the stalker was back, and if he began his old games of torment and threats, would he limit those threats to her? Or would he turn his attention to Brayden since she was staying at his house?

  Or worse.

  Would he go after Colton?

  That caused Ashley's heart to race for a whole different reason.

  "You have someone staying at the hospital with Colton, right?" she asked.

  "Of course. My dad's with him right now, and Mom will be there this afternoon. They're both former cops. So, let's not borrow trouble, okay?"

  Well, that was one thing they could agree on.

  Because Ashley was certain they already had enough trouble without borrowing more.

  Chapter Six

  It was like walking into a time capsule.

  The foyer and the adjoining living room of her house were exactly as Ashley had left them two and a half years ago. Not a piece of furniture was out of place. Right down to the magazines and somewhat gaudy art deco coasters she'd left on the polished limestone coffee table.

  Ashley trailed her fingers over the umbrella stand in the entry and strolled through the dining room and into the kitchen. The property manager she'd hired had done a good job. No dust. Everything was clean. Everything in place. Well, everything except for the phone that had been ripped from the wall. The one that now lay neatly on the countertop near her espresso maker.

  She'd done that herself.

  Not the laying neatly part, but the ripping part, and the memory of it was as fresh as if it had happened hours and not years ago. The stalker had made one call too many that night, and she'd snapped. She'd taken out her fears and frustrations on the silver-gray phone that matched her slate countertops.

  The fit of temper hadn't helped. It had only been the final straw that had sent her on the run.

  Brayden stayed back in the tile-framed arched doorway that separated the kitchen from the dining room. Probably because he could tell she needed a moment alone. A moment Ashley hadn't even known she needed until she'd felt the pressure in her chest.

  Mercy, she had once loved this place.

  Her home.

  To buy it, she's spent a huge chunk of the money she'd inherited years earlier when both her parents were killed in a car accident. And then, she'd shelled out even more money to begin decorating and landscaping it.

  For all the good it'd done.

  She'd been over halfway through creating her own personal version of paradise, only to allow herself to be driven from it by a man too cowardly to show his face.

  That riled her—now.

  It was ironic that she was now probably strong enough to face him, and she couldn't. Because it was no longer about her. It was also about Colton and the baby she
needed to have to save his life.

  "It's starting to sleet," Brayden let her know.

  Ashley glanced out the wide glass doors that led to the patio. The icy drizzle was dimpling the surface of the lagoon-blue pool, and the thick gray clouds predicted that it wouldn't let up before nightfall.

  Not good.

  It'd mean the roads would probably ice over. Not a complete rarity in San Antonio, but it would create far from normal driving conditions.

  "We should leave soon," Brayden added. "To give us a little extra time to get to the clinic."

  "You're right," she said picking up the ripped-out phone from the counter. Ashley tried to fit it back onto the metal slot still attached to the wall. She struggled with it a few moments before she heard Brayden walk across the floor toward her.

  Meeting her gaze for a moment, he calmly took the phone from her and slid it back in place. "Nervous about the procedure?" he asked.

  She was nervous about a lot of things, but instead of vocalizing that, Ashley nodded. And then she vocalized something that she wished she'd kept to herself. "I hope you have strong sperm."

  He made a sound—a single burst of semilaughter that stayed deep within his throat.

  Ashley shook her head. "I meant—"

  "I know what you meant. The doctor said the insemination wouldn't be painful," he continued, looking a little flustered at the turn in the conversation.

  Ashley knew how he felt. She'd been flustered since he'd appeared on her porch in Virginia, and there wasn't a chance the frustration would lessen anytime soon. In fact, she was betting it would get a lot worse.

  "I can go in the procedure room with you," he offered. "If you want…"

  "This is really a solo kind of thing."

  He nodded. Some relief joined the discomfort in his expression.

  "There's so much to think about, you know?" she asked. It was rhetorical.

  Of course, he knew.

  He answered anyway. Well, sort of. He voiced one of the repeated concerns that kept going through her head. "Having a baby's a big step in anyone's life."

  Yes. And for her, that step was huge. "I always figured I'd have a child. Someday. Eventually." Because she needed something to do with her suddenly fidgety hands, Ashley checked out the fridge. Nothing, with the exception of a yellow box of baking soda. "I just didn't think that child would be the result of insemination."

  Brayden nodded. "Because of that ick factor?"

  That, and she'd just figured a pregnancy would happen under more normal circumstances.

  Or at least pleasurable ones.

  Hopefully, Brayden had had an easier time providing his contribution in the collection room than she'd have receiving it. Of course, there wasn't anything about this situation that could be construed as easy. One way or another, this would change everything.

  "I'll love this baby," she assured him. "It won't be just about providing a sibling donor for Colton." But it didn't sound like so much an assurance as it did an attempt to convince herself.

  Which it wasn't.

  There were a lot of blurs and uncertainties about all of this, but her feelings for this yet-to-be-conceived child wasn't one of them. If Brayden and she succeeded in making a baby, their child would definitely be loved.

  His phone rang, and Brayden slipped it from his belt. "Lt. O'Malley," he answered.

  Rather than eavesdrop, Ashley walked past him and went through the hall so she could make a quick check of her bedroom. Like the rest of the house, it was in perfect order. The bed made. The carpet vacuumed. Nothing seemed out of place. Until her gaze fell on the answering machine next to her bed.

  The tiny red bead of light was frantically pulsing.

  Her heart started to pulse with it.

  She went closer, but not too close. Ashley eyed the machine as if it were a poisonous snake ready to strike. In a way, it was. She was almost afraid to press the button that would play the message someone had left for her.

  And that brought her to another thought.

  She'd had the phone disconnected two and a half years ago, so there should have been no messages. That light shouldn't have been blinking.

  Since her heart seemed ready to beat out of her chest, she forced herself to calm down and consider something, anything, less sinister than what she'd already considered. Maybe the property manager had reconnected the phone for her? Maybe Brayden had, since he knew they'd be dropping by tonight?

  But Ashley didn't think either of those things had happened.

  She reached out, her index finger hovering over the button that would play the recorded message. However, she stopped when she heard the hurried footsteps behind her.

  Just like that, her heart sprang to her throat. Her muscles tightened. Her body braced itself for the fight. Oh, mercy. Had the stalker found her and broken in?

  Ashley whirled around.

  And saw Brayden.

  Just Brayden.

  No stalker. No bogeyman. No threat that her body was preparing itself to see. Almost immediately, she felt herself relax.

  Until she saw the look on his face.

  "What's wrong?" she asked.

  He didn't answer right away and that caused the fight-or-flight adrenaline to return in full force.

  "The clinic caught fire," he told her.

  A dozen thoughts went through Ashley's head. None good. "How? When?"

  "About a half hour ago."

  She touched her fingertips to her lips. "Was it arson?"

  "Maybe. They're still trying to put out the blaze so it might be a while before we know for sure."

  "What about the doctor—"

  "He was injured," Brayden said, confirming her fears. "Not seriously, but it was bad enough that he's on his way to the hospital via ambulance."

  Oh, God.

  This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't be. But it was. Heaven help them, it was.

  Brayden paused. "There's more."

  Ashley wasn't sure she could deal with more, but she braced herself.

  "The semen they were going to use for the insemination was destroyed."

  That did it. Her legs gave way, and she sat down on the bed. All their carefully laid plans were gone.

  Gone.

  Worse, Ashley knew in her heart this wasn't an accident.

  Someone was intentionally trying to stop them from saving Colton. Or rather someone was trying to stop her.

  And she was positive that someone was the stalker.

  * * *

  BECAUSE HE HAD TO DO something, anything, Brayden phoned headquarters. Not for an update—he'd just received one. But to demand a thorough investigation of the fire. It was an unnecessary demand since he knew the arson detectives would do their jobs and that they would be thorough. If it was indeed arson, they'd likely find evidence of it.

  For all the good it'd do Colton.

  The doctor was hurt. The clinic damaged. And his vials of semen destroyed.

  Hell.

  Brayden leaned his back against the wall and slid to the floor so he could sit down.

  Ashley buried her face in her hands. "Please don't tell me you think this was a coincidence or an accident?"

  He didn't.

  But Brayden kept his speculation to himself.

  Besides, there was nothing he could do about the fire now. Nothing. He could only try to deal with the aftermath.

  And the aftermath, he soon realized, would be a bitch.

  Several possible solutions came to mind, including really bad ones, but he nixed one in particular right off the bat.

  "Most clinics will already be closed," Brayden mumbled, taking out the phone that he'd just put away. "We had the last appointment on the schedule. But I'll call around and see if we can find someone at the hospital who'll do it."

  Because he was watching her, he saw Ashley ease her hands down from her face. "And what will you ask for? An emergency artificial insemination?"

  It sounded even worse than he'd imagined it
would, and Brayden had imagined that it would sound pretty bad. "If I have to. I don't want to wait another month. Colton might need that month."

  "Exactly." With that emphatic one-word agreement, she got to her feet. "But think this through, Brayden. The weather's terrible. There will be accidents. Emergency rooms all over the city will be packed. No doctor is going to give us priority for an insemination."

  That didn't stop him.

  Nothing would.

  He got up, as well, stormed across the room and grabbed the phone book tucked on the bottom shelf of her nightstand. He riffled through it, found the listings for hospitals and ripped them out. He did the same for physicians and passed Ashley a handful of the pages.

  "I hope you have your cell phone because I need you to start calling. I'll do the same. But first I want to make sure your security system is working."

  She pulled back her shoulders, and something went through her eyes. Alarm, definitely. Maybe something more. But Brayden didn't have time to ask her what exactly. They already had enough alarm to deal with.

  Ashley glanced down at the phone next to her bed, peeled off her coat and tossed the garment on top of the covers. "The controls for the security system are in the laundry room."

  That shedding of her coat must have been a sign of her bolstered resolve because Ashley no longer looked hesitant or argumentative. She led him back through the house and along the way she grabbed her phone from her purse that she'd left in the foyer.

  Brayden made his first call, to his family doctor, while Ashley opened the security control panel mounted on the laundry-room wall. By the time he'd set the sensors to cover all areas, including the windows and garage, he'd gotten yet more bad news. His doctor was out of town for the holidays.

  Brayden cursed.

  This just wasn't his night.

  Ashley didn't fare any better. Her call to her former doctor was redirected to a voice mail, and she left a message. She tried again with the next number on the page.

  Brayden did the same. His call was to an emergency room, where he had to explain—not easily—what he wanted to three different people. Each insisted it'd be a long wait for a nonemergency procedure and that it would require several layers of authorization.