A Weaver Wedding. Allison Leigh

bulge of his jean-clad thigh. “Go back to this clock issue.”

      “What about it?”

      She had a fleeting image of an armed guard standing on the front step of her shop, scaring away customers.

      Just because her life in Weaver was supposed to be temporary didn’t mean that she could afford to lose business. Classic Charms was no front. It was a real business. One that she’d worked hard to make successful. It kept her ancient house in decent repair, and now more than ever, she needed the shop to remain as profitable as it possibly could to tide her over when the baby came.

      “I can’t have you hanging around my shop every minute that I’m open.” People would get the wrong idea. They’d start putting one and one together, and getting three.

      “Not just the shop. Here, too. 24/7.”

      Could this possibly get any worse? “For how long?” Her voice rose despite her efforts.

      “Until we neutralize the threat against Sloan.”