One Night Before Christmas

Eleven

It was the perfect day for an excursion. Since men were still working at the cabin removing the last of the tree debris and getting ready to cover the whole structure with a heavy tarp, Phoebe turned in the opposite direction, walking side by side with Leo back down the road to a small lane which turned off to the left and meandered into the forest.

She had fastened Teddy into a sturdy canvas carrier with straps that crisscrossed at her back. Walking was her favorite form of exercise, but it took a quarter mile to get used to the extra weight on her chest. She kept her hand under Teddy’s bottom. His body was comfortable and warm nestled against her.

Leo carried the large ax like it weighed nothing at all, when Phoebe knew for a fact that the wooden-handled implement was plenty heavy. He seemed pleased to be out of the house, whistling an off-key tune as they strode in amicable silence.

The spot where she hoped to find the perfect Christmas tree was actually an old home site, though only remnants of the foundation and the chimney remained. Small weather-roughened headstones nearby marked a modest family cemetery. Some of the writing on the stones was still legible, including several that read simply, Beloved Baby. It pained her to think of the tragic deaths from disease in those days.

But she had suffered more than her share of hurt. She liked to think she understood a bit of what those families had faced.

Leo frowned, seeing the poignant evidence of human lives loved and lost. “Does this belong to you?” The wind soughed in the trees, seeming to echo chattering voices and happy laughter of an earlier day.

“As much as you can own a graveyard, I guess. It’s on my property. But if anyone ever showed up to claim this place, I would give them access, of course. If descendants exist, they probably don’t even know this is here.”

One of the infant markers caught his attention. “I can’t imagine losing a child,” he said, his expression grim. “I see how much Luc and Hattie love their two, and even though I’m not a parent, sometimes it terrifies me to think of all the things that happen in the world today.”

“Will you ever want children of your own?” Her breath caught in her throat as she realized that his answer was very important to her.

He squatted and brushed leaves away from the base of the small lichen-covered stone. “I doubt it. I don’t have the time, and frankly, it scares the hell out of me.” Looking up at her, his smile was wry. But despite the humor, she realized he was telling the absolute truth.

Her stomach tightened in disappointment. “You’re still young.”

“The business is my baby. I’m content to let Luc carry on the family lineage.”

Since she had no answer to that, the subject lapsed, but she knew she had been given fair warning. Not from any intentional ultimatum on Leo’s part. The problem was, Phoebe had allowed her imagination to begin weaving fantasies. Along the way, her heart, once broken but well on the way to recovery, had decided to participate.

The result was an intense and sadly dead-end infatuation with Leo Cavallo.

She stroked Teddy’s hair, smiling to see the interest he demonstrated in his surroundings. He was a happy, inquisitive baby. Since the day he was born, she had loved him terribly. But this time alone, just the two of them, and now with Leo, had cemented his place in her heart. Having to return him to his parents was going to be a dreadful wrench. The prospect was so dismal, she forced the thought away. Much more of this, and she was going to start quoting an infamous Southern belle. I’ll think about that tomorrow.

Leo stood and stretched, rolling his shoulders, the ax on the ground propped against his hip. “I’m ready. Show me which one.”

“Don’t be silly. We have to make a careful decision.”

“This is the world’s biggest Christmas tree farm. I’d say you won’t have too much trouble. How about that one right there?” He pointed at a fluffy cedar about five feet tall.

“Too small and the wrong variety. I’ll know when I see it.”

Leo took her arm and steered her toward a grouping of evergreens. “Anything here grab your fancy?”

She and Leo were both encased in layers of winter clothes. But she fancied she could feel the warmth of his fingers on her skin. A hundred years ago, Leo would have worked from dawn to dusk, providing for his family. At night, when the children were asleep in the loft, she could see him making love to his wife on a feather tick mattress in front of the fire. Entering her, Phoebe, with a fire, a passion he had kept banked during the daylight hours. Saving those special moments of intimacy for the dark of night.

Wishing she could peel out of her coat, she stripped off her gloves and removed her scarf. The image of a more primitive Leo was so real, her breasts ached for his touch. She realized she had worn too many clothes. The day was warm for a winter afternoon. And thoughts of Leo’s expertise in bed made her feel as if she had a fever.

She cleared her throat, hoping he wouldn’t notice the hot color that heated her neck and cheeks. “Give me a second.” Pretending an intense interest in the grouping of trees, she breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of the fresh foliage. “This one,” she said hoarsely, grabbing blindly at the branches of a large Fraser fir.

At her back, Leo stood warm and tall. “I want you to have your perfect Christmas, Phoebe. But as the voice of reason I have to point out that your choice is a little on the big side.” He put his hands on her shoulders, kissing her just below the ear. “If it’s what you want, though, I’ll trim it or something.”

She nodded, her legs shaky. “Thank you.”

He set her aside gently, and picked up the ax. “Move farther back. I don’t know how far the wood chips will fly.”

Teddy had dozed off, his chubby cheeks a healthy pink. She kept her arms around him as Leo notched the bottom of the tree trunk and took a few practice chops. At the last minute, he shed his heavy parka, now clad above the waist in only a thermal weave shirt, green to match his surroundings.

It was ridiculous to get so turned on by a Neanderthal exhibition of strength. But when Leo took his first powerful swing and the ax cut deeply into the tree, Phoebe felt a little faint.

* * *

Leo was determined to make Phoebe happy. The trunk of this particular fir was never going to fit into a normal-size tree stand. He’d have to cobble something together with a large bucket and some gravel. Who knew? At the moment, his first task was to fell the sucker and drag it home.

At his fifth swing, he felt a twinge in his chest. The feeling was so unexpected and so sharp, he hesitated half a second, long enough for the ax to lose its trajectory and land out of target range. Now, one of the lower branches was about two feet shorter than it had been.

Phoebe, standing a good ten feet away, called out to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. Tree chopping was damned hard work. Knowing that her eyes were on him, he found his stride again, landing four perfect strikes at exactly the same spot. The pain in his chest had already disappeared. Probably just a muscle. His doctor had reassured him more than once that Leo’s health was perfect. Trouble was, when a man had been felled by something he couldn’t see, it made him jumpy.

Before severing the trunk completely, he paused before the last swing and tugged the tree to one side. The fragrance of the branches was alluring. Crisp. Piquant. Containing memories of childhood days long forgotten. Something about scent leaped barriers of time and place.

Standing here in the forest with sap on his hands and his muscles straining from exertion, he felt a wave of nostalgia. He turned to Phoebe. “I’m glad you wanted to do this. I remember Christmases when I begged for a real tree. But my dad was allergic. Our artificial trees were always beautiful—Mom had a knack for that—but just now, a whiff of the air brought it all back. It’s the smell of the holidays.”

“I’m glad you approve,” she said with a charming grin. Standing as she was in a splash of sunlight, her hair glistened with the sheen of a raven’s wing. The baby slept against her breast. Leo wondered what it said about his own life that he envied a little kid. Phoebe’s hand cradled Teddy’s head almost unconsciously. Every move she made to care for her sister’s child spoke eloquently of the love she had for her nephew.

Phoebe should have kids of her own. And a husband. The thought hit him like a revelation, and he didn’t know why it was startling. Most women Phoebe’s age were looking to settle down and start families. But maybe she wasn’t. Because, clearly, she had hidden herself away like the unfortunate heroine in Rapunzel’s castle. Only in Phoebe’s case, the incarceration was voluntary.

Why would a smart, attractive woman isolate herself in an out-of-the-way cabin where her nearest neighbors were knocking on heaven’s door? When was the last time she’d had a date? Nothing about Phoebe’s life made sense, especially since she had admitted to working once upon a time in a highly competitive career.

A few thin clouds had begun to roll in, dropping the temperature, so he chopped one last time and had the satisfaction of hearing the snap that freed their prize. Phoebe clapped softly. “Bravo, Paul Bunyan.”

He donned his coat and lifted an eyebrow. “Are you making fun of me?”

She joined him beside the tree and reached up awkwardly to kiss his cheek, the baby tucked between them. “Not even a little. You’re my hero. I couldn’t have done this on my own.”

“Happy to oblige.” Her gratitude warmed him. But her next words gave him pause.

“If we eat dinner early, we can probably get the whole thing decorated before bedtime.”

“Whoa. Back up the truck. I thought we had plans for bedtime.” He curled a hand behind her neck and stopped her in her tracks by the simple expedient of kissing her long and slow. Working around the kid was a challenge, but he was motivated.

Phoebe’s lashes fluttered downward as she leaned into him. “We do,” she whispered. The fact that she returned his kiss was noteworthy, but even more gratifying was her enthusiasm. She went up on tiptoes, aligned their lips perfectly and kissed him until he shuddered and groaned. “Good Lord, Phoebe.”

She smoothed a strand of hair behind his ear, her fingers warm against his chilled skin. “Are you complaining, Mr. Cavallo?”

“No,” he croaked.

“Then let’s get crackin’.”

Even though Phoebe carried a baby, and had been for some time, Leo was equally challenged by the difficulty of dragging the enormous tree, trunk first, back to the house. He walked at the edge of the road in the tall, dead grass, not wanting to shred the branches on gravel. By the time they reached their destination, he was breathing hard. “I think this thing weighs a hundred pounds.”

Phoebe looked over her shoulder, her smile wickedly teasing. “I’ve seen your biceps, Leo. I’m sure you can bench-press a single measly tree.” She unlocked the front door and propped it open. “I’ve already cleared a spot by the fireplace. Let me know if you need a hand.”

* * *

Phoebe couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun. Leo was a good sport. Chopping down the large tree she had selected was not an easy task, but he hadn’t complained. If anything, he seemed to get a measure of satisfaction from conquering O Tannenbaum.

Phoebe unashamedly used Teddy as a shield for the rest of the day. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be alone with Leo. But there was something jarring about feeling such wanton, breathless excitement for a man when she was, at the same time, cuddling a little baby.

It would probably be different if the child were one they shared. Then, over Teddy’s small, adorable head, she and Leo could exchanges smiles and loving glances as they remembered the night they created this precious bundle of joy. With no such scenario in existence, Phoebe decided her feelings were fractured...much like the time she’d had a high school babysitting job interrupted by the arrival of her boyfriend. That long-ago night as a sixteen-year-old, it had been all she could do to concentrate on her charges.

Almost a decade and a half later, with Leo prowling the interior of the cabin, all grumpy and masculine and gorgeous, she felt much the same way. Nevertheless, she focused on entertaining her nephew.

Fortunately, the baby was in an extremely good mood. He played in his high chair while Phoebe threw dinner together. Thanks to the largesse of Leo’s buddy—which Leo no doubt cofunded—it was no trouble to pick and choose. Chicken Alfredo. Spinach salad. Fruit crepes for dessert. It would be easy to get spoiled by having haute cuisine at her fingertips with minimal effort. She would have to resist, though. Because, like Leo’s presence in her life, the four-star meals were temporary.

Leo, after much cursing and struggling, and with a dollop of luck, finally pronounced himself satisfied with the security of their Christmas pièce de résistance. After changing the baby’s diaper, Phoebe served up two plates and set them on the table. “Hurry, then. Before it gets cold.”

Leo sat down with a groan. “Wouldn’t matter to me. I’m starving.”

She ended up sitting Teddy in his high chair and feeding him his bottle with one hand while she ate with the other. At the end of the meal, she scooped Teddy up and held him out to Leo. “If you wouldn’t mind playing with him on the sofa for a little while, I’ll clean up the kitchen, and we can start on the tree.”

A look of discomfort crossed Leo’s face. “I’m more of an observer when it comes to babies. I don’t think they like me.”

“Don’t be silly, Leo. And besides, you did offer to help with Teddy when I let you stay. Remember?”

He picked up his coat. “Buford says it’s going to snow tonight. I need to move half of that pile of wood you have out by the shed and stack it on the front porch. If it’s a heavy snow, we might lose power.” Before Phoebe could protest, he bundled up in his winter gear and was gone.

Phoebe felt the joy leach out of the room. She wanted Leo to love Teddy like she did, but that was silly. Leo had his own family, a brother, a sister-in-law, a niece, a nephew and a grandfather. Besides, he’d been pretty clear about not wanting kids. Some people didn’t get all warm and fuzzy when it came to infants.

Still, she felt a leaden sense of disappointment. Leo was a wonderful man. Being squeamish about babies was hardly a character flaw.

She put Teddy back in the high chair. “Sorry, kiddo. Looks like it’s you and me on KP duty tonight. I’ll be as quick as I can, and then I’ll read you a book. How about that?”

Teddy found the loose end of the safety strap and chewed it. His little chortling sounds and syllables were cute, but hardly helpful when it came to the question of Leo.

Tonight was a big bridge for Phoebe to cross. She was ready. She wanted Leo, no question. But she couldn’t help feeling anxiety about the future. In coming to the mountains, she had learned to be alone. Would agreeing to be Leo’s lover negate all the progress she had made? And would ultimately losing him—as she surely would—put her back in that dark place again?

Even with all her questions, tonight’s outcome was a forgone conclusion. Leo was her Christmas present to herself.

Twelve

Leo pushed himself hard, carrying five or six heavy logs at a time. He took Buford’s warning seriously, but the real reason he was out here was because staying in the cabin with Phoebe was torture. It was one thing to casually say, “We’ll wait until bedtime.” It was another entirely to keep himself reined in.

Every time she bent over to do something with the baby or to put something in the oven, her jeans cupped a butt that was the perfect size for a man’s hands to grab hold of. The memory of her naked breasts lodged in his brain like a continuous, R-rated movie reel.

Earlier, he had called Luc, explaining the isolation of Phoebe’s cabin and promising to stay in touch. His new phone should arrive in the morning, and the satellite internet would be set up, as well. By bedtime tomorrow night, Leo would be plugged in, all of his electronic devices at his fingertips. A very short time ago, that notion would have filled him with satisfaction and a sense of being on track. Not today. Now he could think of nothing but taking Phoebe to bed.

When he had a healthy stack of logs tucked just outside the front door in easy reach, he knew it was time to go in and face the music. His throat was dry. His heart pounded far harder than warranted by his current task. But the worst part was his semipermanent erection. He literally ached all over...wanting Phoebe. Needing her with a ferocious appetite that made him grateful to be a man with a beating heart.

He told himself he was close to having everything he craved. All he had to do was make it through the evening. But he was jittery with arousal. Testosterone charged through his bloodstream like a devil on his shoulder. Urging him on to stake a claim. Dismissing the need for gentleness.

Phoebe was his for the taking. She’d told him as much. A few more hours, and everything he wanted would be his.

* * *

Phoebe moved the portable crib into the living room near the fireplace, on the opposite side from the tree. Her hope was that Teddy would amuse himself for a while. He’d been fed, changed, and was now playing happily with several of his favorite teething toys.

When Leo came through the door on a blast of cold air, her stomach flipped. She’d given herself multiple lectures on remaining calm and cool. No need for him to know how agitated she was about the evening to come. Her giddiness was an odd mixture of anticipation and reservation.

Never in her life had she been intimate with a man of whom she knew so little. And likewise, never had she contemplated sex with someone for recreational purposes. She and Leo were taking advantage of a serendipitous place and time. Neither of them made any pretense that this was more. No passionate declarations of love. No tentative plans for the future.

Just sex.

Did that cheapen what she felt for him?

As he removed his coat and boots, she stared. The look in his eyes was hot and predatory. A shiver snaked down her spine. Leo was a big man, both in body and in personality. His charisma seduced her equally as much as his honed, masculine body.

She licked her lips, biting the lower one. “Um...there’s hot chocolate on the stove. I made the real stuff. Seemed appropriate.”

He rubbed his hands together, his cheeks ruddy from the cold. “Thanks.”

The single syllable was gruff. Phoebe knew then, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Leo was as enmeshed in whatever was happening between them as she was. The knowledge settled her nerves. She had been afraid of seeming gauche or awkward. Leo’s intensity indicated that he was perhaps as off balance as she felt.

As he poured his drink, she expected him to come sit on the sofa. Instead, he lingered in the kitchen. She dragged a large red plastic tub nearer the tree. “If you’ll do the lights, I’ll sort through the ornaments and put hangers on them so that part will go quickly.”

He set his mug in the sink. “Lights?”

She shot him an innocent look. “It’s the man’s job. Always.”

“And if there were no man around?”

“I’d have to handle it. But I’m sure the tree would not look nearly as pretty.”

Finally, he joined her, his body language somewhat more relaxed. “You are so full of it,” he said with a fake glower as he bent and picked up the first strand. “You realize, don’t you, that many people buy pre-lit trees these days.”

“True.” She plugged in the extension cord and handed him the end. “But not live ones. Think how proud you’re going to be when we’re finished, how satisfied with a job well done.”

Tugging her braid, he deliberately brushed the backs of his fingers down her neck. “I’m a long way from satisfied.” His chocolate-scented breath was warm on her cheek. If she turned her head an inch or two, their lips would meet.

She closed her eyes involuntarily, her body weak with longing. Leo had to know what he was doing to her. And judging by the smirk on his face when she finally managed to look at him, he was enjoying her discomfiture.

Turnabout was fair play. “Good things come to those who wait,” she whispered. She stroked a hand down the middle of his rib cage, stopping just above his belt buckle.

Leo sucked in a sharp breath as his hands clenched on her shoulders. “Phoebe...”

“Phoebe, what?” Toying with the hem of his shirt, she lifted it and touched his bare skin with two fingertips. Teasing him like this was more fun than she could have imagined. Her long-buried sensual side came out to play. Taking one step closer so that their bodies touched chest to knee, she laid her cheek against him, hearing the steady, though rapid, beat of his heart.

Between them, she felt the press of his erection, full and hard, at her stomach. For so long she had hidden from the richness of life, afraid of making another tragic misstep. But one lesson she had learned well. No matter how terrible the mistake and how long the resultant fall, the world kept on turning.

Leo might well be her next blunder. But at least she was living. Feeling. Wanting. Her emotions had begun to thaw with the advent of Teddy. Leo’s arrival in the midst of her reawakening had been fortuitous. Six months ago, she would not have had the courage to act on her attraction.

Now, feeling the vestiges of her grief slide into the realm of the past, her heart swelled with joy in the realization that the Phoebe Kemper she had once known was still alive. It had been a long road. And she didn’t think she would ever want to go back and reclaim certain remnants of that woman’s life.

But she was ready to move forward. With Leo.

He set her away from him, his expression strained. “Give me the damn lights.”

* * *

Leo was at sixes and sevens, his head muddled with a million thoughts, his body near crippled with desire. Fortunately for him, Phoebe was the meticulous sort. There were no knots of wire to untangle. Every strand of lights had been neatly wrapped around pieces of plywood before being stored away. He sensed that this Christmas decorating ritual was far more important to Phoebe than perhaps he realized. So despite his mental and physical discomfort, he set his mind to weaving lights in amongst the branches.

Phoebe worked nearby, unwrapping tissue-wrapped ornaments, discarding broken ones, tending to Teddy now and again. Music played softly in the background. One tune in particular he recognized. He had always enjoyed the verve and tempo of the popular modern classic by Mariah Carey. But not until this exact minute had he understood the songwriter’s simple message.

Some things were visceral. It was true. He needed no other gift but Phoebe. When a man was rich enough to buy anything he wanted, the act of exchanging presents took on new meaning. He had always given generously to his employees. And he and Luc knew each other well enough to come up with the occasional surprise gift that demonstrated thought and care.

But he couldn’t remember a Christmas when he’d been willing to strip the holiday down to its basic component. Love.

His mind shied away from that thought. Surely a man of his age and experience and sophistication didn’t believe in love at first sight. The heart attack had left him floundering, grasping at things to stay afloat in a suddenly changing world. Phoebe was here. And it was almost Christmas. He wanted her badly. No need to tear the situation apart with questions.

He finished the last of the lights and dragged one final tub over to the edge of the coffee table so he could sit and sift through the contents. Though the tree was large, he wasn’t sure they were going to be able to fit everything on the limbs.

Spying a small, unopened green box, he picked it up and turned it over. Visible through the clear plastic covering was a sterling sliver rocking horse with the words Baby’s First Christmas engraved on the base. And a date. An old date. His stomach clenched.

When he looked up, Phoebe was staring at the item in his hands, her face ashen. Cursing himself for not moving more quickly to tuck it out of sight, he stood, not knowing what to say. A dozen theories rushed through his mind. But only one made sense.

Tears rolled from Phoebe’s huge pain-darkened eyes, though he was fairly certain she didn’t know she was crying. It was as if she had frozen, sensing danger, not sure where to run.

He approached her slowly, his hands outstretched. “Phoebe, sweetheart. Talk to me.”

Her eyes were uncomprehending...even when she wiped one wet cheek with the back of her hand.

“Let me see it,” she whispered, walking toward the tub of ornaments.

He put his body in front of hers, cupping her face in his hands. “No. It doesn’t matter. You’re shaking.” Wrapping his arms around her and holding her as tightly as he could, he tried to still the tremors that tore through her body cruelly.

Phoebe never weakened. She stood erect, not leaning into him, not accepting his comfort. He might as well have been holding a statue. At last, he stepped back, staring into her eyes. “Let me get you a drink.”

“No.” She wiped her nose.

Leo reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and handed it to her. He was torn, unsure if talking about it would make things better or worse. As he stood there, trying to decide how to navigate the chasm that had opened at his feet, the fraught moment was broken by a baby’s cry.

Phoebe whirled around. “Oh, Teddy. We were ignoring you.” She rushed to pick him up, holding him close as new tears wet her lashes. “It’s your bedtime, isn’t it, my sweet? Don’t worry. Aunt Phoebe is here.”

Leo tried to take the boy. “You need to sit down, Phoebe.” He was fairly certain she was in shock. Her hands were icy cold and her lips had a blue tinge.

Phoebe fought him. “No. You don’t like babies. I can do it.”

The belligerence in her wild gaze shocked him, coming as it did out of nowhere. “I never said that.” He spoke softly, as though gentling a spooked animal. “Let me help you.”

Ignoring his plea, she exited the room, Teddy clutched to her chest. He followed the pair of them down the hall and into the baby’s nursery cum storage room. He had never seen this door open. Phoebe always used her own bedroom to access Teddy’s.

She put the child on the changing table and stood there. Leo realized she didn’t know what to do next.

Quietly, not making a fuss, he reached for the little pair of pajamas hanging from a hook on the wall nearby. The diapers were tucked into a cheerful yellow plastic basket at the boy’s feet. Easing Phoebe aside with nothing more than a nudge of his hip, he unfastened what seemed like a hundred snaps, top and bottom, and drew the cloth up over Teddy’s head. Teddy cooed, smiling trustingly as Leo stripped him naked. The baby’s skin was soft, his flailing arms and legs pudgy and strong.

The diaper posed a momentary problem, but only until Leo’s brain clicked into gear and he saw how the assembly worked. Cleaning the little bottom with a baby wipe, he gave thanks that he was only dealing with a wet diaper, not a messy one.

Phoebe hadn’t moved. Her hands were clenched on the decorative edge of the wooden table so hard that her knuckles were white.

Leo closed up the diaper, checked it for structural integrity, and then held up the pajamas. He couldn’t really see much difference between these pj’s and the daytime outfits the kid wore, but apparently there was one. This piece of clothing was even more of a challenge, because the snaps ran from the throat all the way down one leg. It took him three tries to get it right.

Through it all, Phoebe stood unaware. Or at least it seemed that way.

Cradling the child in one arm, Leo used his free hand to steer Phoebe out of the room. “You’ll have to help me with the bottle,” he said softly, hoping she was hearing him.

Her brief nod was a relief.

Leo installed Phoebe in a kitchen chair. Squatting in front of her, he waited until her eyes met his. “Can you hold him?”

She took the small, squirmy bundle and bowed her head, teardrops wetting the front of the sleeper. “I have a bottle ready,” she said, the words almost inaudible. “Put it in a bowl of hot water two or three times until the formula feels warm when you sprinkle it on your wrist.”

He had seen her perform that task several times, so it was easy to follow the instructions. When the bottle was ready, he turned back to Phoebe. Her grip on Teddy was firm. The child was in no danger of being dropped. But Phoebe had ceased interacting with her nephew.

Leo put a hand on her shoulder. “Would you like to feed him, or do you want me to do it? I’m happy to.”

Long seconds ticked by. Phoebe stood abruptly, handing him the baby. “You can. I’m going to my room.”

He grabbed her wrist. “No. You’re not. Come sit with us on the sofa.”