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put up with a little annoyance to make your dying mother happy.”
    â€œYou aren’t dying!”
    â€œPlease, dear, just talk to Ashe.”
    Sighing deeply, Deborah closed her eyes and shook her head. How could she say no to her mother? How could she explain what the very sight of Ashe McLaughlin had done to her? Wasn’t she already going through enough, having to deal with testifying against a murderer, having to endure constant threats on her life, without having to put up with Ashe McLaughlin, too?
    â€œOh, all right, Mother. I’ll talk to Ashe. But I’m not promising anything.”
    â€œFine. That’s all I ask.” Gripping the arm of the sofa for support, Carol stood. “I’ll go in the kitchen and see how Ashe and Allen are getting along, then I’ll send Ashe out to you.”
    Standing, Deborah paced the floor. Waiting. Waiting to face the man who haunted her dreams to this very day. The only man she had ever loved. The only man she had ever hated. Stopping in front of the fireplace, she glanced up at Allen’s portrait. He looked so much like her. Their strong resemblance had made it easy to pass him off as her brother. But where others might not see any of Ashe in Allen’s features, she could. His coloring was hers, but his nose was long and straight like Ashe’s, not short and rounded like hers. His jaw tapered into a square chin unlike her gently rounded face.
    Now that Allen was ten, it was apparent from his size that he would eventually become a large man, perhaps as big as Ashe, who stood six foot three.
    But would Ashe see any resemblance? Would he look at Allen and wonder? Over the years had he, even once, asked himself whether he might have fathered a child the night he had taken her virginity?
    â€œDeborah?”
    She spun around to face Ashe, who stood in the hallway. Had he noticed her staring at Allen’s portrait?
    â€œPlease come in and sit down.”
    He walked into the living room, but remained standing. “I came back to Sheffield as a favor to your mother.” And because she dared me to face the past. “She sounded desperate when she called. My grandmother told me about Miss Carol’s bout with cancer. I—”
    â€œThank you for caring about my mother.”
    â€œShe was always good to Mama Mattie and to me. Despite what happened between the two of us, I never blamed your mother.”
    What was he talking about? What reason did he have to blame anyone for anything? He’d been the one who had left Sheffield, left an innocent seventeen-year-old girl pregnant.
    â€œMother has gotten it into her head that I need protection, and I don’t disagree with her on that point. I’d be a fool to say I’m not afraid of Buck Stansell and his gang. I know what they’re capable of doing. I saw, firsthand, how they deal with people who go against them.”
    â€œThen allowing me to stay as your bodyguard is the sensible thing to do.”
    How was it, he wondered, that years ago he’d thought Whitney Vaughn was the most beautiful, desirable creature on earth, when all along her little cousin Deborah had been blossoming into perfection? Although Whitney had been the woman he’d wanted, Deborah was the woman he’d never been able to forget.
    â€œI would prefer your agency send another representative. That would be possible, wouldn’t it? Surely, you’re no more eager than I am for the two of us to be thrown together this way.”
    â€œYes, it’s possible for the Dundee Agency to send another agent, but your mother wants me. And I intend to abide by her wishes.”
    Deborah glared at him, then regretted it when he met her gaze head-on. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. As if…as if he found her attractive.
    â€œYou could speak to Mother, persuade her to agree to another agent.”
    â€œYes, I could speak to your mother, but I don’t think