A Weaver Wedding

Her eyes closed. Goober. Her brother’s nickname for her when they were kids. Who else but he would know that? The McCrays had never stayed put anywhere long enough for other people to take note of them. “Sloan—”

But the connection was already dead.

She still held the phone to her ear, though, as if by some miracle she could reestablish that much-too-brief contact.

Finally, Axel slid the phone out of her numb fingers and pushed her gently inside the door.

She couldn’t even muster a protest when he nudged her down onto the couch in the living room, or when he disappeared into the kitchen and returned with the tea that she’d forgotten all about.

“Thought you liked coffee, not tea,” he said, taking her hands and wrapping them around the ceramic mug as he sat on the wrought-iron coffee table, facing her. “But you’ve obviously just fixed this.”

He’d removed the tea bag, she realized dimly, staring into the pale liquid. “I stopped drinking coffee,” she said faintly. “You’re really serious about all this.” She lifted her gaze to his.

His expression was solemn. “Yeah.”

Her brother’s words echoed in her head. “That’s the only time Sloan’s spoken directly to me in three years.” She lifted the mug, but lowered it again without drinking. “We used to live together, you know. We shared a brownstone.” The first place she’d really called home. But even that hadn’t lasted. “I didn’t think there was anything about each other that we didn’t know. Then he decided to go undercover, and…” She shook her head. “Everything changed. Everything.” Her life. Her brother.

“Not forever. Temporarily. That’s what you said.” Axel leaned forward, his looped fingers hanging loosely between his wide-planted legs. His deep gold hair sprang back from his tanned forehead and his gaze was steady. “This situation—me, here—will be temporary, too.”

Of course it would be.

Because his interest in her had nothing to do with their time in Braden and everything to do with his job.

She cleared her throat, but the knot there seemed destined to remain forever. “So…say I do go along with all of this—” which she wasn’t saying yet, no matter how shocking it had been to hear Sloan’s voice “—what can I expect? I mean, what do you plan to, um, to do? Follow me when I go to the grocery store? Stand guard outside the shop when I’m open? What?”

“Stay with you around the clock. There will be some periods when I can’t be with you. That’s when my backup will be in place.”

“Hold it.” She waved her hand and set her mug on the neat pile of magazines beside the muscular 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.”