Free Shelter in a Soldier's Arms by Susan Mallery

and into his study. Earlier he’d heard running water as Ashley prepared her daughter’s bath. The nightly routine was as foreign to him as life on another planet, and yet observing it from a distance made him ache inside.
    He wanted with a power that nearly drove him to his knees, yet he couldn’t for the life of him say what he wanted. Connection had never been his strength. Hadn’t Nicole told him that dozens of times before she’d left him? Hadn’t she hurled the accusation across nearly every argument they’d had? That he’d changed, that he wasn’t the man she’d married, that he didn’t belong?
    And he hadn’t belonged with her. In the end, nothing about their life together had been able to touch him. It had been easy when she’d walked away. Or so he’d thought until tonight. Until the laughter of a child and her mother made him wonder what it would have been like if things had been different. If he’d been different.
    An ache formed inside of him. Deep and dark, it filled him until he couldn’t breathe without the emptiness threatening to suck him into a void. He gripped the edge of his desk so tightly, he thought he might snap the sturdy wood
    or perhaps a bone in his fingers.
    “Uncle Jeff?”
    The soft voice made him look up. Maggie stood in the entrance to his study. She wore a pink nightgown under a purple robe. Snowball held the place of honor in her arms. The little girl was freshly scrubbed from her bath, her curls fluffed around her face.
    Uncle Jeff. He’d offered that as a substitute for “Mr. Ritter”, which had seemed too formal for their present circumstances. Now he questioned the wisdom of claiming a connection where none existed. She would get the wrong idea. Or perhaps it was himself he had to worry about. Perhaps he would be the one to presume affection where there wasn’t any. He must never forget who and what he was.
    “Are you ready for bed?” he asked, forcing himself to smile at her as if nothing was wrong.
    Ashley stepped into the doorway, her hand resting on her daughter’s shoulder. “Sorry to disturb you, but she wanted to say good-night.”
    “Neither of you are interrupting. Sleep well, Maggie.”
    She bounced free of her mother’s restraining hand and raced over to where he sat. Before he knew what she was about, she flung her little arms around his neck and squeezed tight.
    She smelled of baby shampoo and honey-scented soap. She was warm and small and so damn trusting. Awkwardly he hugged her back, trying not to press too hard or frighten her in any way. She released him and beamed, then scurried from the room. Ashley lingered.
    “Do you mind if we talk for a second?” she said. “After I get her in bed.”
    “Whenever you’d like.”
    He tried not to notice how the heat from the bath had flushed her face, nor the way her sweater hugged her feminine curves. He doubted she had all her energy back, but she no longer looked sick.
    “Thanks. Give me about fifteen minutes.” She turned and left.
    Desire filled him. Desire and sexual need. They were both primal and difficult to dismiss. Most of the time he could use work to distract himself from a difficult situation. But not with Ashley. She haunted his thoughts at the office and at his house when he was home. He couldn’t forget about her when she walked the halls of the house, leaving proof of her presence in a sound, a scent, a discarded sweater or an open textbook. He had no place to retreat.
    However, time and practice had taught him that bodily needs were easily controlled. He’d learned to function without sleep, food or water, while in pain, under stress or physically compromised. Surely he could figure out a way to survive the presence of one woman, regardless of how much she appealed to him. If nothing else, imagining her horror when she figured out the truth about him would be enough to keep his thoughts and actions under control.
    *
    Ashley forced herself to take a deep breath before entering