Her Christmas Baby Bump

by Robin Gianna

  He must have felt her looking at him, as he turned to her and smiled. The curve of his lips was sexy, too, and why was she out here tempting herself with this über-attractive man when any kind of relationship was out of the question?

  The rapid beat of her heart gave her the unwelcome answer, and it wasn’t because she was riding the bicycle. The pace they kept was pretty modest, and as she focused her attention on the river path she couldn’t deny the truth.

  She was out here with him because she wanted to be.

  Which made her one confused woman. Then again, he wasn’t a man who was looking for anything long-term, so her inadequacy in that arena didn’t matter, right? She didn’t have to understand love and relationships to get all hot and bothered just by looking at him. To want to sink into his kisses and enjoy the feel of his arms around her holding her close one more time.

  She stole another glance at him, and darn it if he wasn’t still smiling at her, looking as though he was thoroughly enjoying this ride with her. And if he was, that made it okay, didn’t it? Enjoy a little harmless fun together just once more, with no expectations for anything more, like lots of singles did all the time.

  The thought reassured and relaxed her, and she inwardly laughed at herself for making all of this a bigger thing than it was.

  “There’s a bike rack down here. Follow me,” Aaron said, speeding up to take the lead.

  They rode single file down a small incline to a rack filled with bicycles. Aaron slowed to a stop and shoved his front wheel into a slot before coming to grasp the handlebars of hers as she balanced on it. The path was shadowed here, and he slipped off his sunglasses, tucking them into the neck of his shirt before he reached for the clip of her helmet.

  “Instead of messing with my helmet, maybe you should try wearing one of your own,” she said, brushing aside his fingers to undo the clip herself, at the same time hoping to also brush aside the tingles that simple touch had sent down her throat. “I would think every doctor was well acquainted with the dangers of a head injury.”

  He smiled, and as she stared at the curve of his lips she nearly forgot to remove her helmet after she’d unclipped it. Her hair tangled a little inside it as she pulled it off, and she was trying to shake it loose when his fingers set it free, gently combing through it.

  “If I’m racing, or skiing fast, I wear one. But meandering down a river trail? I’d rather feel the wind on my head.”

  “You can fall and hit your head on cement just straddling a bike,” she said, intentionally sounding like a scolding schoolmarm in the hopes that he wouldn’t notice how his touch made her heart go into a near arrhythmia. Trying not to think about how hunky he looked in his athletic clothes with his thick hair all tousled from said wind. With a five o’clock shadow darkening his sculpted jaw.

  She asked herself why she’d wanted to come out with him again. The clear, gorgeous answer was right in front of her, enough to tempt any woman with a beating heart. Which hers was currently doing in double time.

  Those chocolatey brown eyes of his crinkled at the corners as his gaze captured hers. “Well, all of life’s a risk, isn’t it?”

  Yes, it sure was. She had a very big feeling that being here with him tonight posed some kind of serious risk, but what exactly that risk was she didn’t know. Consequences, maybe, too?

  She definitely hoped not. But it was her last chance for a little pre-baby, pre-changed-life fun, right? Before she devoted herself to loving her baby, proving she was as capable of that as anyone who’d always wanted a child. Proving George wrong.

  Gulping in some courage, Hope got off her bike. Surely she’d look back on this evening and mock herself about silly thoughts of risks and consequences from a simple night out with a man.

  Aaron’s big hand engulfed hers as they walked to the punts. “Are you ready for your first lesson?”

  “Not sure. Will I embarrass myself?”

  “The only possible way you could embarrass yourself is if you get so frustrated you throw the pole overboard. Which I’ve seen happen. If you just plan to have fun learning, you’ll be fine.”

  She had to laugh. “I admit I like to be good at whatever I do, but I think I’m mature enough to know that everything takes practice. So I’ll go for the fun, and shove the competitive Hope under the punt.”

  “I admit I’d enjoy seeing the competitive Hope some time. Very intriguing to wonder what she would be like,” he said with a teasing look.

  “She can be scary. Especially in sports. In school once, I was so intent on getting the netball in the hoop I cracked heads with another girl and nearly knocked both of us out.”

  “Now I understand your nagging about the bike helmet,” he said, laughing. “The good news is you’re not likely to crack your head open punting even if you fall out, so you can forgo the helmet. Though you do look very cute in it.”

  He’d leaned close as he spoke, his voice a sexy deep rumble in her ear that gave her bad thoughts. Thoughts of ditching this punting lesson to suggest something a lot more fun.

  She yanked her thoughts back to what they’d been talking about before. If she could remember what it was. Oh, yes. Helmets and punting.

  “Helmets are not cute, but they are practical,” she said, conjuring the schoolmarm voice again in the hopes that he didn’t notice her slight breathlessness.

  “And you’re a very practical woman. Sometimes.” That teasing glint was back in his eyes, and she tried to ignore its appeal. “I assume you swim, but if you go overboard I promise I’ll come rescue you.”

  “I swim very well, thank you. And I’m quite certain I won’t go overboard.”

  “Don’t be so certain. Especially if you, as a Cambridge native, insist on punting Cambridge style.”

  “Cambridge style?”

  They’d reached the dock and Aaron answered as he arranged to rent the boat. “Standing on the till—the flat part at the stern. In Oxford, punters stand inside the boat and punt with the till forward. Both groups think their way is the right way, and are sure anyone who does it different is all wrong.”

  “And how does an American know all this when I’ve never heard it?”

  He flashed her that quick grin again, more dazzling than the evening sun. “Because I’ve punted plenty of times with both groups in both places. Pretty amusing to sit back and hear them argue about it, because in Colorado we use both techniques, depending on how fast the water is. And I also know this because I’m an expert at many, many things.”

  Which she already knew. “There’s that ego thing again,” she said lightly, hoping he didn’t know that memories of his expertise instantly came to mind in glorious detail.

  He grinned and reached for her hand again as she stepped into the punt, then followed her as the boat gently rocked. “We’ll do it Cambridge style, since we don’t want fingers pointing at us, do we? How about I go first so you can watch, then you can take over?”

  “Sounds like a good plan.” She’d watched plenty of punting in her life without paying much attention to the technique. But watching his muscular physique in that tight shirt of his as he did? Thinking about his various techniques at everything from doctoring to lovemaking? Not something she was going to argue with or complain about.

  She settled onto the bench seat, more than happy to be facing him because, as she’d suspected, the moment he pushed the pole into the water his biceps bulged and his pectorals flexed and she wondered if she could convince him to forget the teaching part of it all so she could just keep admiring him.

  The boat slid smoothly across the water, away from the other boats cruising the river. Aaron’s gaze moved from the river to her and back, and she was struck all over again at how beautiful he truly was, with his chiseled features relaxed, his hair all messy, a smile of pure pleasure on his face. Yes, this man was very different from the
busy, serious doctor she’d noticed from afar at the hospital.

  This man was testosterone on a stick, and pure fun to boot.

  “I don’t know, you haven’t convinced me it’s hard. Slide the pole in and push, then do it again. Easy.” The second the words came out of her mouth she sat up straight, blushing from head to toe. Hoping against hope that he hadn’t really been listening.

  How ridiculous and...and horrifying that her comment had instantly made her think of sex. Was it because she’d said it to Aaron? She glanced away at the water so he couldn’t see her eyes. And prayed he wasn’t a mind reader.

  “Sometimes easy, sometimes...hard.”

  His eyes gleamed wickedly at her, and she felt beyond thankful for the cool air against her hot cheeks. Lord, she had to be more careful when she talked, and, if at all possible, careful with her thoughts, too. Clearly a challenge in the company of Aaron Cartwright.

  “Something a Cambridge native will be interested to know?” he said as he smoothly sent the boat downstream. “Most of the punts we used in Denver were fiberglass and made right here in your fair city.”

  “Really? I find that hard to believe. I would think all kinds of American boat companies would make them.”

  “There’s not really a lot of punting in the States, to be honest. It’s more of a niche thing for boaters. Plus those of us who do punt bow to England’s long tradition and expertise.”

  They glided on in a silence that was peaceful and quiet and yet still that zing she inexplicably couldn’t help but feel around him seemed to be right there in the boat, swirling in the air around them as their eyes met. As they smiled at one another, the pleasure of it seeped into every cell in her body, making her feel relaxed and energized at the same time. If she’d ever felt this way around George, maybe she would have agreed to marry him.

  She sat bolt upright, shocked at the thought. She hadn’t been able to marry George, couldn’t love him, because there was something missing inside her. She knew that, knew the distance and near dislike between her parents, the distance between her and her dad, too, had frozen that ability somehow. Made it impossible for her to know how to love someone.

  George had been right about that. But not about loving the baby she’d wanted for so long. That he was wrong about. Had to be.

  The long, peaceful glide of the punt down the river eased the tightness that had squeezed her chest. Helped release the unwelcome worries that surely happened to anyone making a big life decision. By the time Aaron nosed the boat to a part of the river where there wasn’t a soul in sight, she felt relaxed again. Back to normal and able to enjoy the beautiful evening. He pulled the pole close to the side of the little boat, somehow bringing it to a standstill.

  “A nice, empty place to practice. Come on. Your turn.”

  She didn’t particularly want a turn, but he held out his hand and she stood, placing hers in his as the boat rocked a little. He drew her close and just as she thought he might kiss her, her heart thumping hard as she tried to decide what she wanted to do if he did, he turned her around to face the bow. One strong arm came around her stomach, and his pelvis bumped into her lower back, which did nothing to bring her heart rate back to normal.

  “Spread your legs a bit for balance. Take the pole in both hands. I was lucky to get the spruce wood one, even though the rental places always have a lot more that are aluminum. The wood ones are warmer to hold, and more responsive, too.”

  Maybe she was made of wood. Since she was feeling very warm and responsive to the closeness of his body, the rumble of his voice, the brush of his breath against her cheek. Concentrate, she scolded herself.

  “Okay.” She grasped the pole and knew her voice was about as shallow as the river, but what could she do?

  “So thrust the pole downward, close to the side of the punt. Let it drop to the bottom, then use both hands to bring it up to your chest, which will propel the boat forward in a nice, long stroke. Like this.”

  He kept his arm around her waist, and one hand below hers on the pole. Together they drew it in, her hands ending up against her breasts and his, warm and firm, against her abdomen. So intensely aware of every one of those tingly sensations, she hardly noticed the punt glide forward.

  “After the stroke, just relax and let the pole float up, then we’ll do it again.”

  Okay, enough. She relaxed her hold on the pole and sucked in a calming breath at the same time a laugh bubbled in her throat. She fisted her free hand on her hip and turned her head to look up at his face, so intimately close to hers. “Now I know why you wanted to teach me this. Is this sport always full of sexual innuendo, or just when you’re the instructor?”

  “What do you mean?” His fingers opened on the pole as he held it out, his expression the picture of innocence. At the same time the brown eyes crinkling at the corners held a superheated gleam. “If you were taking lessons at a club, those would be the official instructions.”

  “Maybe so. But you have to admit that talking about spreading legs, warm and responsive poles, and stroking then relaxing is about as sexual a conversation as a person can have.”

  “Maybe it’s your interpretation of it, and not the conversation itself.” His head dipped to touch his mouth to her cheek, slipping it over to her ear and making her shiver. “Could it be that, unconsciously, you want it to be sexual? And maybe I’m subconsciously wanting the same thing.”

  She had a feeling there was no maybe about it for either of them. Hope let her head tip back against his collarbone and closed her eyes, giving herself up to the pleasure of his warm mouth on her skin. Trailing along her jaw in a breathlessly slow journey to eventually rest against the corner of her mouth.

  She turned, his arm sliding along her belly around to her back, and their eyes met for a long, hungry moment before he kissed her. Her eyes slid closed as she sank into the intoxicating taste of Aaron. She let go of the pole completely, wanting to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him even closer, wanting to feel the solid strength of him pressed tightly against her body.

  Perfection. Wasn’t it? Warm and heady perfection. Just as she’d thought when they’d swayed together on that dance floor, and as they’d made love, their bodies seemed to be designed to fit together.

  The arm that had been wrapped around her so tightly loosened, then dropped away for a split second until she could feel the heat from his palm through her shirt as it tracked to her side. Across her belly and up to cup her breast through her clothes. It felt so good, a little inarticulate sound formed in the middle of their kiss, and he pulled back an inch. The eyes staring into hers were half-mast and rich as the darkest Belgian chocolate. “You’re so damn soft, so beautiful. I love to touch you. Love the feel of you.”

  His touch, his words, his mouth devouring hers again sent flames licking across her skin. When he lifted his hand from her breast, she opened her mouth to protest, but she thought, Why? His fingers slipped under her shirt to gently caress her quivering stomach then slide inside her bra to thumb her nipple.

  This time, the sound she made was more like a moan. Which quickly changed to a yelp as the boat jerked with a solid thud, jolting loose the lovely warm palm cupping her breast and making her take a stumbling side step. The pole in Aaron’s hand jabbed hard into her spine before clattering to the side of the boat and diving straight into the water.

  “Well, hell! Sit down for a sec.”

  Aaron grasped her shoulders to steady her, then jumped into action. Her legs shaky, she lowered herself to the seat and watched Aaron kneel and try in vain to reach the pole, finally sticking both arms all the way into the water, sweeping them as if he were doing the breaststroke.

  A different version of which he’d just been doing to her, the enjoyment of which had left the punt without a captain.

  Hope had to giggle at the whole situation with the punt still kn
ocking against the bank and the pole still escaping. “Are you going to have to jump in to get it?”

  “I hope not.” He kept paddling, slowly moving the punt away from the bank and toward the middle of the river in chase. “You said you’re a good swimmer. Feel like practicing?”

  “No way. The only water I swim in is either a heated pool or the Mediterranean. Besides, you’re in charge of this excursion.”

  “Unfortunately true. Almost...there. Aha! Got...it!” He leaned way over, dangerously tipping the punt in the process, and managed to grab the pole, which disappointed Hope slightly. She wouldn’t have minded seeing his clothes clinging to him if he’d had to get soaking wet.

  With a triumphant whoop, he twisted to sit on the floor of the boat and raised the pole over his head like a victorious gladiator. That grin of his flashed wide as water dripped over his eyebrows and down his temples from the hair above his forehead, which had apparently gotten dipped into the river during the pursuit. Water dripped from his wet sleeves, too, and he looked so adorably boyish at that moment, her heart got disturbingly squishy.

  “Impressed?” he asked as he rested the pole on his knees to wipe water from his face.

  “Impressed that we whacked into the bank, nearly knocking us off our feet? That you might have had to swim for the pole or we’d be trapped in the middle of the river for days?”

  “No.” He moved to sit beside her. A few drops of water dripped on her shirt when he moved to wrap his arm around her shoulder, until he must have realized how wet he was and rested it on his lap instead. He leaned close, his eyes gleaming. “Impressed that I managed to stop kissing you and touching you long enough to deal with the problem. Would have thought only a ten-magnitude earthquake would shake me out of that kind of trance.”

  “Oh.” Apparently, he’d put her in a similar trance. And apparently she still was, since “oh” was the only word that came to mind.

  “Besides, if we’d gotten stuck in the middle of the river, I would have gone into the water and towed you to safety. Just like Humphrey Bogart in The African Queen.”