The Baby Gift

by Day Leclaire

  She jumped to her feet and plucked a photo from off the mantel, her movements filled with a vitality he suspected to be more characteristic than her earlier stillness. The picture was a recent one showing his beaming father surrounded by Alessandro, his five brothers, their various wives, his six-and-a-half-year-old niece and a healthy smattering of nephews. "This is your family, isn't it?"

  He relaxed slightly, nodding in acknowledgment "Good guess.”

  She stared at the photo with an acute longing almost painful to witness. "If I had a family this impressive, I'd rather spend Christmas with them, not all by my lonesome.”

  "Who says I won't be spending it with my family?"

  "Instinct.” She glanced around the comfortable living room and at the personal belongings that had somehow worked their way out of his suitcases and were scattered about. "You look to be dug in for the winter."

  "Feminine instinct tells you all that, huh?"

  "Well... Maybe a bit more than instinct," she confessed.

  More than feminine instinct? He wasn't sure he wanted to know what that might be or what it might indicate. It threatened to build a connection between them he had no intention of encouraging. Even with that decision firmly in mind, he found himself responding. "You're right," he conceded. "This isn't my favorite time of year. I prefer to go through it alone, instead of inflicting myself on my family."

  "Now that's a shame."

  "They don't mind."

  "I'm not so sure. Your poppa appears to be a loving man. I'll bet he isn't too happy about your decision." She smiled down at the portrait. "I'm surprised he hasn't told you as much. I’m guessin' he's the sort who doesn't put up with any nonsense from his sons."

  She'd read a lot into a simple photo. The fact that most of what she'd said also happened to be true only made Alessandro all the more wary. "What I choose to do isn't his concern."

  She laughed, shooting him a knowing look, "Of course it's his concern. That's what being part of a family is all about."

  He preferred not to talk about himself, despite her determination to do just that. "Is that how it is with your family?" he asked. Maybe the question would help turn the tables.

  "Once upon a time it was. Not anymore."

  "Why not?"

  "I only had a sister and she passed on two months ago." She traced each member of the Salvatore clan with a blunt fingernail. "I...I still can't hardly believe she's gone.”

  Aw, hell! "I'm sorry." He squeezed her shoulder in gentle understanding. Once again, she leaned into his grasp, rather than pulling away from what most would regard as a stranger's touch. A warmth stirred between them that had little to do with the heat blazing from the fireplace. It was a visceral reaction, one he couldn't have governed even if he'd wanted to. Something about her drew him, held him, bound him. He couldn't recall ever having such an intense and instantaneous connection with a woman before. Not even with Rhonda. "You must find this time of the year even more difficult to handle than I do."

  She inclined her head, layered strands of silvery-blond fluttering at her temples and across her brow. An image flashed through his mind, an image of his hands thrusting deep into the silken depths at the nape of her neck and feeling the soft caress of her hair rippling through his fingers, teasing the length of his jaw, feathering a tortuous path across his chest. He inhaled sharply and released her. Where the hell had that come from? Dredging up an ounce of common sense, he stepped away from more temptation than he could handle.

  She took his abandonment with good grace. "I guess losing my sister makes me a mite sensitive about family.”

  “Understandable."

  She returned the photo to the mantel with notable reluctance. Staring at the Salvatore clan for another moment, she set her chin at a determined angle and swiveled to face him. "Now, don't let my sad news get you down," she ordered briskly. "That wasn't my intent. I just wanted to point out that family isn't something you should take for granted. That's all."

  "As I said... They understand."

  She gave a decisive nod. "I don't doubt it for a minute. All the more reason to turn to them in your time of need."

  "My time of need?" Presumptuous little sprite. He was determined to bring her up short. "You may consider yourself qualified to lecture me about family, but I suggest you mind your own business. At a guess, you have more than your fair share of problems to deal with right now without worrying about mine.”

  She brushed the verbal slap aside as though it were no more than a gentle reprimand. "And I'll be dealin' with them soon enough. But you're a man with a family the size of a couple of football teams," she persisted. "A man, moreover, who chooses to be all on his own at Christmas. That means you're needy. And when a body's needy there's no better help than one’s family. Mark my words. If they knew you were heartsick, they'd be up here in a flash, every last one of them."

  Fury ripped through him. "First off, I'm not heartsick. Nor am I needy. What I am is a man who wants you to get the hell—"

  She'd fixed those light blue eyes on him again and he found the words jamming in his throat before they could be spoken. He swore beneath his breath, using a flavorful range of Italian expletives. For some reason—maybe because they were the first he'd learned as an impressionable ten-year-old—they came more easily to mind. He gritted his teeth. The motels were full, he reminded himself. The weather was doing its level best to work itself into a full-fledged blizzard. And the woman blinking innocently up at him would be stuck as his guest for at least a day, if not two or three.

  "What I am is a man in desperate need of a cup of coffee." His voice had assumed the Italian undertones it often acquired whenever he found himself in stressful situations. He could only hope she didn't hear it, or if she did, didn't understand the significance as clearly as his brothers would have. "Would you like one while you wait?"

  If she guessed what he'd originally planned to say, she didn't let on. "I'd appreciate that." She swiped her hands across the seat of her jeans with an energetic slap. "Would you like me to fix it for you?"

  "Now why would I want that?"

  The softness of his voice gave her pause, but she shrugged it off with a smile. "Call it Southern hospitality.”

  "My home, my hospitality. I'll take care of it."

  "Sure you don't need my help?"

  There was something odd about this entire situation. Something about her that fell out of kilter. Nothing about her—from the abruptness of her arrival, to her strange reaction to him, to her meddlesome questions—made a bit of sense. Maybe once he'd reignited his brain cells with some caffeine he'd figure it out. Or better still, maybe he'd ask a few of the questions he should have when she'd first turned up on his doorstep.

  "Why don't you enjoy the fire while I fix us both a cup," he suggested. "How do you take it?"

  Her smile faded at his question, the vitality seeping from her. Now what had he said to prompt that reaction? She crossed to the couch and curled up at one end. "It's a reasonable question," she murmured, more to herself than to him. "I take it white, thank you kindly. And having something of a sweet tooth, I wouldn't object if you tossed in a lump or two of sugar."

  "Coming right up."

  It didn't take long for him to brew a fresh pot of coffee. He used the opportunity to compose a long list of questions. Topping the list would be her name. He couldn't believe they hadn't introduced themselves. So much for hospitality. Southern or otherwise. Filling two oversize mugs with a helping of the extra-strong brew, he returned to the living room.

  "Here you go. Miss...?"

  He stood at the end of the couch, holding the two mugs of steaming hot coffee and frowned in disbelief. His visitor had fallen sound asleep. Incredible. This had to be the most bizarre day he'd experienced in a long time. He set the mugs on the coffee table and took a seat in a large wing chair near the fire. Dropping his feet on the ottoman, he stared broodingly at the woman.

  What on earth was he to do with her? Even if Lou ca
me for her car, there wasn't any place for her to spend the night other than here. He glanced at the pile of quilts she'd deposited so carefully on his floor. She couldn't have driven clear across the country with nothing more than the clothes on her back and a bunch of handmade quilts. He supposed he should check to see if she had any luggage in Babe's trunk and bring it in. Once he had her unloaded, the matter of where she'd spend the night would be resolved and out of her hands by the time she awoke. No discussion, no argument. Then he could ask a few of those questions nagging at him.

  As though in response to his intense regard, the quilts on the floor shifted. Before Alessandro could do more than bolt upright in his chair, a child dug out from under the colorful mountain. He sat for a moment, staring at the unfamiliar surroundings.

  "What the..?"

  At the sound of Alessandro's voice, the child's inky-dark gaze fastened briefly on him before shifting to the woman. Instantly, be broke into a wide grin that revealed eight serrated nubs, four teeth centered on the bottom and four on top. He didn't call for his mother the way Alexandra's niece and nephews had often done in similar circumstances, but crawled free of his temporary bed. Unsteadily gaining his feet, he made a determined beeline for his mother.

  Alessandro caught the boy before he reached his goal. If ever a woman needed her sleep, this one did. He half expected a tearful response. But the boy didn't utter a sound. With an expression of utter trust, he allowed Alessandro to return to the chair and promptly made himself comfortable by curling up against the broad chest supporting him and pointing his diapered bottom skyward. Popping a thumb in his mouth, the boy closed his eyes and returned to sleep.

  Alessandro released his breath in a half laugh, half groan. Definitely an interesting day. Who'd have thought the elf had come toting a baby. No wonder she'd looked so exhausted. Working her way across country with an infant in tow couldn't have been simple or easy. Aware that he'd be stuck in the chair for a while, he stretched out a hand toward his coffee mug. Unfortunately, he couldn't reach it without getting up. He didn't dare risk that.

  Damn.

  Shifting to a more comfortable position, he surrendered. Some things simply couldn't be controlled. And those that couldn't, he'd learned to endure. Time to start enduring. The boy's small body generated a surprising amount of heat and Alessandro closed his eyes, sinking deeper into the leather chair cushions. Between the physical exertion of the morning and far too many sleepless nights due to his dreams of Rhonda, catching a little shut-eye struck him as an excellent idea.

  A pervasive baby-scented warmth seeped into Alessandro's bones. He liked the smell. It reminded him of...Of family. A slight smile relaxed the hard curves of his mouth and he tucked his bundle more securely beneath his chin. The dark silken hair caressed his jaw and a tiny heartbeat fluttered close to his own, vulnerable, yet determined. It was a reassuring sensation, an expression of new life.

  His smile faded. Now he knew he must be exhausted. He was getting downright sappy. Babies weren't adorable or reassuring. They were damp, noisy and they belonged in someone else's arms. He'd tolerate this one for now. But as soon as the elf awoke, he'd dump the kid on her and keep a safe distance until they both left. That decided, Alessandro drifted off.

  Sleep came immediately—a more peaceful sleep than he'd experienced in months.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Still seven days before Christmas...

  SHE came to him again, all silk and sweetness and heady feminine perfume. Her hazel eyes were alight with laughter, laughter echoed in the eager, honeyed tones of her voice. Her enthusiasm knew no bounds— whether it was for a soft purple crocus pushing through its cap of snow, or for the spread of gourmet food he'd picked up in town, or simply for his touch. Everything brought her joy. And she returned that joy with her every act and deed.

  She ate with gusto, spoke with vibrant enthusiasm, made love with unstinting generosity. He could see her more clearly now than in his previous dreams. She stood in a shaft of moonlight, caped in a satin cloak of pale strawberry hair, her nudity silvered with moonlight. She held out her arms in welcome, calling to him with her siren’s song.

  He was helpless to resist. He wanted her. Needed her.

  Took her.

  "Alessandro...? Nick? Nicky! Where are you?"

  The woman's cry startled Alessandro and the boy he held. Reacting with impressive speed, he recovered his balance before they both toppled to the floor. "Easy," he reassured the woman, his words sleep roughened. He climbed from the chair and approached, "I have him over here."

  She stood in front of the scattered quilts, trembling. "I'm sorry." She thrust a hand through her hair and tousling the short, silky strands into further disorder. "It's gotten so dark, I didn't see you, I just saw... Saw..."

  "Saw the empty blankets and thought—Nicky, is it?”

  "Nick, I should call him Nick. Nicky's a baby's name and he's not…" He heard the tears in her voice, heard, too, the quick, shallow give-and-take of her breath. "He's not much of a baby anymore."

  Something about the intensity of her turmoil urged him to drag her into his arms and comfort her in all the ways a man best comforted a woman. No doubt it had something to do with her fear or perhaps the pervasive femininity that cloaked her. It drew him as nothing else could. But that option wasn't available to him. So instead, he pitched his voice to soothe. "You saw the empty blankets and thought Nick had wandered off."

  "Yes. It scared me."

  Alessandro set the boy on the floor. With a gleeful cry, he toddled to the woman, flinging himself against her legs. She applauded his efforts with an uneven laugh and swung him into her arms, hugging him tight. He returned the hug with enthusiasm, bursting into an incomprehensive stream of baby babble. Alessandro suppressed a grin. For such a little guy, he had a ridiculously deep voice, the sound not much more than a gruff rumble. Even though there wasn't a single recognizable word, the woman gave Nick her full attention until he finally ran dry. Finished relaying his information, he aimed a wet kiss at her mouth and then squirmed in her arms for release.

  She obediently put him down before glancing at Alessandro. He found the wealth of unsuppressed emotion almost painful to observe. "Thank you for watching him."

  He shrugged, doing his best to ease her distress with an air of calm. He'd often found it worked best with his own family. They all had the regrettable tendency to respond with fiery passion to every situation, regardless of whether the development was a crisis or cause for celebration. He'd learned as a child that being the rock in the midst of the storm helped anchor everyone else. As he grew, his height and breadth only added to the image of strength and control.

  "I don't know how much watching I did," he said. "Apparently Nick decided he hadn't gotten enough sleep the first time ’round. So I offered to join him when he settled down for a second nap.”

  “I didn't hear him wake, I don't understand it." She dropped to her knees, folding the handmade quilts with swift, jerky movements at odds with her earlier gracefulness. "I kept him close so I'd hear."

  "You were sound asleep when I came back with the coffee. I decided not to disturb you when he woke, and fortunately, Nick proved cooperative." Alessandro flipped on the overhead lights, driving the dusky shadows from the darkened room, and crossed to revive the dying fire. "You looked like you needed your sleep."

  She confirmed his guess with an abrupt nod. "I was on the road most of the night."

  Removing the fireplace screen, he tossed a couple of logs onto the grate. "Why was that?"

  She started to answer, hesitating at the last minute. He suspected she'd rather not explain, but after a moment's consideration, she shrugged. "You might as well know the truth." Digging in her pocket she pulled a wad of crumpled bills and a handful of change. She set it on the table next to the two mugs of cold coffee, smoothing each bill with great precision. "That's every last penny I have to my name."

  Alessandro winced. Replacing the fire screen, he rocked back on his
heels and did a swift, silent count. Not good. At most she had a whole twenty-five bucks heaped there. "Kind of tough to get a car repaired with that. Not to mention putting a roof over your head and food on your table."

  Nick toddled over to examine the money and she scooped it up, returning it to her pocket. "I'm not afraid of hard work. I suspect I can clean rooms in exchange for a place to stay."

  "Not likely." No doubt that was one of the ways she'd worked her way from North Carolina to California. Too bad it wouldn't work here. Giving himself time to think, he crossed to a closet on the far side of the room and opened the door. Spying the box he wanted, he dragged it out and presented it to Nick. The boy took one look at the overflowing carton of toys and crowed in delight. "Have at it, kid. My treat."

  The woman laughed in amazement. "Goodness gracious! That's more toys than he's seen in all his born days. Come to think of it, it's more toys than I’ve ever seen."

  Alessandro grinned. "You saw my family photo. With all those kids, we keep the cabin well-supplied with playthings. I think the general consensus was better safe than sorry."

  "It must make a nice treat for them. I'll bet they love coming here. Though your idea of a cabin and mine are somewhat different. Where I come from a cabin is a whole lot smaller and rougher. No more than a one or two room affair." Her gaze swept the cypress-trimmed cathedral ceiling. "Not a mansion like this."

  "True. But cabin sounds so much more modest."

  Her mouth curved into a quick smile which faded to an apprehensive frown. He could tell she'd just absorbed his earlier comment about the local motels. "You said…not likely. Why isn't it likely that I can clean rooms in exchange for a place to stay?"

  "The motels in the area are booked solid between now and me New Year."

  She stilled. "You neglected to mention that earlier.”