Santa Assignment. Delores Fossen

released the breath he’d been holding.

      “According to the tests, I’m healthy and shouldn’t have any problems conceiving. In fact, I’ll be ovulating day after tomorrow.”

      “That soon.” It was great news.

      A little overwhelming.

      But still great news.

      “That soon,” she repeated, sounding overwhelmed, as well. “The doctor said I’ll need to have the insemination procedure done twice. Once at the onset of ovulation, and then it’ll be repeated in twenty-four hours to increase the chances of success.”

      And success was what this was all about, Brayden reminded himself. Not the thick-as-lead tension simmering between Ashley and him.

      “Three more days,” she mumbled. “And we’ll be finished with the insemination part.”

      Not much enthusiasm. But he hadn’t expected it. “So you’ll stay here until then? I mean, I want you to stay here until then. Because it’d probably be easier than you flying back and forth to Virginia.”

      And he was babbling like an idiot.

      The corner of her mouth lifted a fraction. “Don’t worry, Brayden. I’m as uneasy about this as you are.” Her mouth slid right back into a somber line. “I do have some work that needs to be done on a case, but I can do that via computer, I guess. And then I can be home by the weekend.”

      Rather than risk more babbling, he just nodded.

      More silence. More awkwardness. Until finally Ashley moved. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

      Yes. She would. In fact, they’d be seeing each other for at least three more mornings. And perhaps even some mornings after that if she decided to stay until they had the results of the pregnancy test.

      Somehow, he’d have to make himself immune to her choice of sleepwear, or the next three mornings would be hell.

      Brayden waited until he heard her close the guest-room door before he went to his own room. The bone-weary fatigue was to the point where he had to get some sleep, or he wouldn’t be able to function. He stripped off his shoulder holster, shirt and pants, and then turned on the CD player next to the bed.

      He kept the volume low, barely loud enough for him to hear Bruce Springsteen belt out a few lines of “I’m on Fire.” Since that was a little too close to music imitating life Brayden reached for the button to skip that particular song.

      Car lights swept past his window.

      A late-night vehicle wasn’t a complete anomaly in his neighborhood since some of the people on the block did shift work, but the fact that it seemed to be moving so slowly caused Brayden to go to the window. He lifted the curtain a fraction and looked out.

      It was a dark van.

      Very similar to one that had been in the hospital parking lot earlier that day.

      The one that had frightened Ashley.

      He drew his weapon. And watched.

      Since it was crawling at a snail’s pace, Brayden waited until it crossed directly under the streetlight, and he saw the numbers on the license plate. He jotted them down, and without taking his attention off the vehicle, he called headquarters and asked one of the detectives to run the plates.

      “Call me back as soon as you have something,” Brayden instructed.

      He hung up and continued to watch until the van slipped out of sight. Still, Brayden didn’t relax. There was something about the vehicle that sent his body on full alert.

      His vigilance paid off because several minutes later, he saw the lights again.

      It was the same van.

      The adrenaline pumped through him. Preparing him, in case there was a fight.

      Was this the stalker who’d been after Ashley? He’d taken precautions, yes, but a lot of people had to know she was back in town. It was impossible to keep something like that a secret.