Shelter in a Soldier's Arms by Susan Mallery Page A

herself while she was simply a guest in his house. Now her presence was everywhere. Her perfume lingered in the hallway. A couple of Maggie’s toys found their way to the family room. Schoolbooks stacked up on an end table. It was as if a family lived here.
    A family. The concept was unfamiliar. He knew intellectually that there had been a time when he’d belonged to a family. He’d been born to parents who lived in suburbs, just like regular people. Jeff knew he’d been a part of that world once—playing sports in high school, hanging out with his friends. But those memories weren’t real to him. It was as if he’d seen a movie about someone’s past. A past that happened to be his own. He couldn’t relate to those images and he didn’t know how to act now that he was no longer alone.
    He glanced at his watch. It was late, nearly midnight. Maggie was long asleep, but Ashley was still up, studying in the kitchen. The need to go to her compelled him to rise to his feet, even though he knew he shouldn’t bother her. He walked toward the light, knowing he had no right to want to be with her, even when all he expected was simple conversation.
    She haunted him. Much like the ghosts of his past, she was a constant presence in his mind. Yet unlike the memories of the dead, she made him feel better for occupying his thoughts. She made him anticipate—something he hadn’t done in years. She made him need, which reminded him he was alive. But was that good or bad?
    He reached the kitchen and stood in the doorway. The overhead light glinted off her dark hair. She wore jeans and a sweater. Her feet were bare and she’d tucked one up under her on the straight-backed chair.
    Several books lay open across the table. She glanced at one, then returned her attention to the accounting paper in front of her.
    One curl caressed her cheek. Looking at it made him press his fingers into his palm. He wanted to touch the curl
    and the cheek. He wanted to feel the silk of her skin and the warmth of her body. He wanted
    “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to join me?” She spoke without looking up.
    Jeff frowned. He knew he hadn’t made any noise. “How did you know I was here?”
    She glanced at him and smiled. “It’s a mom thing. Internal radar. The same mechanism tells me when Maggie is doing something she shouldn’t.” She pushed her foot against the chair next to her, moving the seat toward him in invitation. “I’m due to take a break.” She pointed at the closest open textbook. “It’s cost accounting, so you’re doing me a favor by taking me away from it for a while. There are fresh cookies. Want one?”
    He followed the direction of her finger and saw a heaping plate of cookies on the counter. “You’re always trying to feed me.”
    She smiled. “That’s because you don’t eat very much. I’m a compulsive feeder.”
    “Another mom thing?”
    “Probably. I want to take care of the world.”
    He moved toward the table, but didn’t take the seat next to her. Instead he settled across from her—as much to see her as to make sure he wasn’t close enough to touch. Something about the late hour made him question his ability to do the right thing. The need inside seemed to grow with each tick of the kitchen clock.
    “Not all mothers are compelled to take care of everyone,” he said. “It’s about being a giver more than being maternal.”
    “Maybe.” She rose to her feet and walked over to the cookie plate. After moving a couple of her books, she set it in the center of the table, then headed to the refrigerator. “What about your mother? What was she like?”
    “A homemaker,” he said as Ashley poured them each a glass of milk. “She liked to sew and bake. My dad worked for Ford. On the assembly line.”
    She put a full glass in front of him and resumed her seat. “Let me guess. You played football and were something of a flirt.”
    “I’ll admit to the football.”
    Ashley had been