Karen Sandler - Her Baby's Hero

He squeezed the back of his neck with his long fingers. “Just a little stiff.”

“Come sit here.” She gestured to her cushioned desk chair. “I’ll get the kinks out for you.”

Dropping his hand, he took a half step back. “No.”

She should let it go. He was always tense, and the occasional neck rubs she’d given him at Berkeley had never made much of a difference. It was something she’d always done for Sara, to ease some of her sister’s stress. When she’d massaged Jason’s tight muscles at the end of a long day at the university, it had been just as innocent.

Until that fiery night in his arms. Now nothing between them seemed innocent anymore.

Despite her better judgment, she pulled her wheeled chair out and beckoned him. “Come here.”

He moved toward her with slow steps and settled in the chair. Resting her hands on his shoulders, she ran her thumbs along the tense muscles there. His heat radiated through the knit of his shirt.

Her heart rate kicked into high gear as she worked her fingers toward the strong column of his neck. He sucked in a breath when she first touched bare skin. “Are my hands cold?”

He shook his head. Trying to ignore the sensual awareness that sparked deep inside her, she dug deep with her fingertips on either side of his neck. The tautness of his muscles persisted against her ministrations, as if he resisted even the slightest bit of comfort she offered. Back at school she could usually cajole him into a modicum of relaxation with her gentle massages. Today she suspected nothing would persuade him to let go.

Except a kiss. A shock went through her at the thought of pressing her lips to the side of his neck, feeling the warm flesh against her mouth. She wondered at his reaction, whether he’d push her away or turn the chair to pull her into his lap.

She realized her deep massage had changed, that she’d begun stroking his neck instead, grazing his skin in sensual caresses. She could hear his harsh breathing, feel arousal coiling under her hands. It crossed her mind she should pull her hands away, cease touching him. But the sensation of skin against skin had her mesmerized.

His hands fell on hers, stopping her. His shoulders rose and fell, his muscles, if anything, tighter than when she’d started. Then he pulled away, pushing the chair aside, facing her.

His fingers curved around her upper arms, and he held her there, not pulling her closer but not pushing her away, either. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and the expectation that he might kiss her sent a fever through her.

But then he stumbled back, breaking the contact. He strode toward the door, yanking it open and slamming it behind him.

Dazed, Ashley made her way to the chair where Jason had been working, and eased herself into it. A mistake, she realized the moment she stretched her legs out under the equally small-scale table. She’d have to struggle to get herself back up without help.

But Jason would come back, wouldn’t he? They’d settled nothing about the babies, hadn’t even started to discuss it. He wouldn’t leave now.

Thirty minutes later she’d cut out the last of the construction-paper autumn leaves when she heard the rattle of the door opening. Jason stepped inside with the pink bakery box and a brown paper bag in his hands, hesitating in the doorway before he crossed the room toward her.

He set his burdens down and opened the box for her. “I remembered you like bear claws.”

There were four of her favorite pastries in the box, lined up beside two cheese and two raspberry danishes. She laughed. “I’m as big as a house as it is. Are you trying to fatten me up even more?”

“You need to eat.” He handed her a bear claw, then took a raspberry danish for himself.

She took a bite of the sweet, buttery pastry, sighing with pleasure. Sitting on the edge of the table, Jason leaned forward and brushed at the corner of her mouth. “Some sugar,” he said, his voice low.

The pressure of his thumb lingered. Ashley resisted the temptation to lick the spot he’d touched, to see if she could taste him. “There are paper towels back there by the sink. Could you get us a couple?”

Setting the danish on the box lid, he went for the paper towels. He set one sheet on the table in front of her and another in her lap. He did nothing out of line as he spread the towel over her legs, but she imagined his touch nonetheless.

“Orange juice or milk?” He opened the brown paper bag and pulled out a small carton of each.

He’d gone back into town after all. “Milk would be great.”

He opened the carton for her and took the juice for himself. “You finished the leaves. Thanks.”

“I should be thanking you. They’re for my students.”

“But I said I’d do it. It was my responsibility to finish the job.”

Was everything a responsibility, a duty? She wondered if he ever did anything for the sheer pleasure of it, then remembered their night together.

Once she’d polished off the bear claw and milk, she wiped her face and stuffed the paper towels into the milk carton. He took her trash before she could so much as stir, then returned to where she still sat trapped in the diminutive chair.

“What next?” he asked.

“Decorate the room,” she told him, then she smiled. “That is, after you lever me out of this chair.”

He frowned, giving her his hand. He let go the moment she was on her feet. “Where’s your cell?”

“In the canvas bag.”

Moving to her desk, he grabbed the bag and dug through it. Ashley was too stunned to complain at his intrusion.

He unearthed the phone and brought it to her. “Keep it handy.”

She slipped it into the pocket of her sundress. “What—”

“I want to make sure you can reach me while I’m gone. It’ll take me an hour or two to get everything arranged.”

Wariness rose inside her. “Get what arranged?”

“What I need in order to conduct business. Office equipment, communications system. Some clothes. A place to stay long-term.”

The unease within her blossomed into full-blown alarm. “I don’t understand.”

“You need me here, Ashley, and not just for a couple days.” His brown gaze bored into her. “If you won’t come with me to San José, I’m here for the duration. Until the babies are born.”

Jason’s departing footsteps still echoing in her ears, Ashley nearly sank back into the tiny, second-grader chair before she caught herself. Jason staying? Until the babies were born? She’d be stark raving mad before those three months were up.

Bending to the knee-high table, she gathered up the stacks of paper leaves and sorted them into manila envelopes. She would unpack the box of books she’d brought, then turn her focus on decorating her room. Best to put aside the problem of Jason for the moment. Fretting over what he might or might not do wouldn’t be good for the babies.

Nearly two hours later she’d finished stapling up an elaborate paper oak tree that covered one wall, intending to add leaves decorated by the students the first week of school. A few die-cut squirrels hid amongst the branches and a great gray owl she’d cut from a poster watched over the scene.

Glancing at the clock, she saw it was nearly one and her stomach started clamoring for food again. Jason had left the box of pastries, but it would be tempting fate if she ate another bear claw. There was still the banana and granola bars, but her insistent appetite wanted something more substantial.

She crossed the room and stepped outside into the simmering late-summer heat. A few other rooms had their doors propped open, so she wasn’t alone here. She could see the principal’s car in the parking lot, but Mrs. Beeber wasn’t the type to socialize with staff, so Ashley wasn’t inclined to invite her out to lunch.