A Billionaire for Christmas

by Janice Maynard

  Her stage whisper was comical given the fact that Teddy was clearly awake.

  “You need some backup?”

  “I’m fine.” She started to close the door, but he stuck his foot in the gap, remembering at the last instant that he wasn’t wearing shoes.

  She pushed harder than he anticipated, and his socks were less protection than he expected. Pain shot up his leg. He groaned, jerking backward and nearly falling on his ass. Hopping on one foot, he pounded his fist against the wall to keep from letting loose with a string of words definitely not rated for kid ears.

  Now Phoebe flung the door open wide, her face etched in dismay. “Are you hurt? Oh, heavens, of course you are. Here,” she said. “Hold him while I get ice.”

  Without warning, his arms were full of a squirmy little body that smelled of spit-up and Phoebe’s light floral scent. “But I…” He followed her down the hall, wincing at every step, even as Teddy’s grumbles grew louder.

  By the time he made it to the living room, Phoebe had turned on a couple of lamps and filled a dish towel with ice cubes. Her fingers curled around his biceps. “Give me the baby and sit down,” she said, sounding frazzled and irritated, and anything but amorous. She pushed him toward the sofa. “Put your leg on the couch and let me see if you broke anything.”

  Teddy objected to the jostling and cried in earnest. Leo lost his balance and flopped down onto the sofa so hard that the baby’s head and Leo’s chin made contact with jarring force.

  “Damn it to hell.” He lay back, half-dazed, as Phoebe plucked Teddy from his arms and sat at the opposite end of the sofa. Before he could object, she had his leg in her lap and was peeling off his sock.

  When slim, cool fingers closed around the bare arch of his foot, Leo groaned again. This time for a far different reason. Having Phoebe stroke his skin was damned arousing, even if he was in pain. Her thumb pressed gently, moving from side to side to assess the damage.

  Leo hissed, a sharp involuntary inhalation. Phoebe winced. “Sorry. Am I hurting you too badly?”

  She glanced sideways and her eyes grew big. His robe had opened when he lost his balance. Most of his chest was bare, and it was impossible to miss the erection that tented his sleep pants. He actually saw the muscles in her throat ripple as she swallowed.

  “It feels good,” he muttered. “Don’t stop.”

  But Teddy shrieked in earnest now, almost inconsolable.

  Phoebe dropped Leo’s foot like it was a live grenade, scooting out from under his leg and standing. “Put the ice on it,” she said, sounding breathless and embarrassed. “I’ll be back.”

  * * *

  Phoebe sank into the rocker in Teddy’s room, her whole body trembling with awareness. The baby curled into her shoulder as she rubbed his back and sang to him quietly. He wasn’t hungry. She had given him a bottle barely an hour ago. His only problem now was that his mouth hurt. She’d felt the tiny sharp edge of a tooth on his bottom gum and knew it was giving him fits. “Poor darling,” she murmured. Reaching for the numbing drops, she rubbed a small amount on his sore mouth.

  Teddy sucked her fingertip, snuffled and squirmed, then gradually subsided into sleep. She rocked him an extra five minutes just to make sure. When he was finally out, she laid him in his crib and tiptoed out of the room.

  Her bed called out to her. She was weaving on her feet, wrapped in a thick blanket of exhaustion. But she had told Leo she would come back. And in truth, nothing but cowardice could keep her from fulfilling that promise.

  When she returned to the living room, it was filled with shadows, only a single lamp burning, though Leo had started another fire in the grate that gave off some illumination. He was watching television, but he switched it off as soon as she appeared. She hovered in the doorway, abashed by the sexual currents drawing her to this enigma of a man. “How’s the foot?”

  “See for yourself.”

  It was a dare, and she recognized it as such. Her legs carried her forward, even as her brain shouted, Stop. Stop. She wasn’t so foolish this time as to sit down on the sofa. Instead, she knelt and removed the makeshift ice pack, setting it aside on a glass dish. Leo’s foot was bruising already. A thin red line marked where the sharp corner of the door had scraped him.

  “How does it feel?” she asked quietly.

  Leo sat up, wincing, as he pulled his thick wool sock into place over his foot and ankle. “I’ll live.”

  When he leaned forward with his forearms resting on his knees, he was face-to-face with her. “Unless you have an objection,” he said, “I’m going to kiss you now.” A lock of hair fell over his forehead. His voice was husky and low, sending shivers down her spine. The hour was late, that crazy time when dawn was far away and the night spun on, seemingly forever.

  She licked her lips, feeling her nipples furl tightly, even as everything else in her body loosened with the warm flow of honey. “No objections,” she whispered, wondering if he had woven some kind of spell over her while she was sleeping.

  Slowly, gently, perhaps giving her time to resist, he cupped her cheeks with his hands, sliding his fingers into her hair and massaging her scalp. His thumbs ran along her jawline, pausing when he reached the little indentation beneath her ear.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he groaned, resting his forehead against hers. She could feel the heat radiating from his bare chest. All on their own, her hands came up to touch him, to flatten over his rib cage, to explore miles of warm, smooth skin. Well-defined pectoral muscles gave way to a thin line of hair that led to a flat belly corded with more muscles.

  She felt drunk with pleasure. So long…it had been so long. And though she had encountered opportunities to be intimate with men during the past three years, none of them had been as tempting as Leo Cavallo. “What are we doing?” she asked raggedly, almost beyond the point of reason.

  He gathered handfuls of her hair and played with it, pulling her closer. “Getting to know each other,” he whispered. His mouth settled over hers, lips firm and confident. She opened to him, greedy for more of the hot pleasure that built at the base of her abdomen and made her shift restlessly.

  When his tongue moved lazily between her lips, she met it with hers, learning the taste of him as she had wanted to so badly, experimenting with the little motions that made him shudder and groan. He held her head tightly now, dragging her to him, forcing her neck to arch so he could deepen the kiss. He tasted of toothpaste and determination.

  Her hands clung to his wrists. “You’re good at this,” she panted. “A little too good.”

  “It’s you,” he whispered. “It’s you.” He moved down beside her so that they were chest to chest. “Tell me to stop, Phoebe.” Wildly he kissed her, his hands roving over her back and hips. They were so close, his erection pressed into her belly.

  She was wearing her usual knit pajamas, nothing sexy about them. But when his big hands trespassed beneath the elastic waistband and cupped her butt, she felt like a desirable woman. It had been so long since a man had touched her. And this wasn’t just any man.

  It was Leo. Big, brawny Leo, who looked as if he could move mountains for a woman, and yet paradoxically touched her so gently she wanted to melt into him and never leave his embrace. “Make love to me, Leo. Please. I need you so much….”

  He dragged her to her feet and drew her closer to the fireplace. Standing on the bearskin rug, he pulled her top over her head. As he stared at her breasts, he cradled one in each hand, squeezing them carefully, plumping them with an expression that made her feel wanton and hungry.

  At last looking at her face, he rubbed her nipples lightly as he kissed her nose, her cheeks, her eyes. His expression was warmly sensual, wickedly hot. “You make a man weak,” he said. “I want to do all sorts of things to you, but I don’t know where to start.”

  She should have felt awkward or
embarrassed. But instead, exhilaration fizzed in her veins, making her breathing choppy. His light touch was not enough. She twined her arms around his neck, rubbing her lower body against his. “Does this give you any ideas?”

  Eight

  Leo was torn on a rack of indecision. Phoebe was here…in his arms…willing. But some tiny shred of decency in his soul insisted on being heard. The timing wasn’t right. This wasn’t right.

  Cursing himself inwardly with a groan of anguish for the effort it took to stop the train on the tracks, he removed her arms from around his neck and stepped back. “We can’t,” he said. “I won’t take advantage of you.”

  Barely able to look at what he was saying no to, he grabbed her pajama top and thrust it toward her. “Put this on.”

  Phoebe obeyed instantly as mortification and anger colored her face. “I’m not a child, Leo. I make my own decisions.”

  He wanted to comfort her, but touching her again was out of the question. An explanation would have to suffice. He hoped she understood him. “A tree demolished one of your cabins. You’re caring for a teething baby, who has kept you up big chunks of the past two nights. Stress and exhaustion are no basis for making decisions.” He of all people should know. “I don’t want to be that man you regret when the sun comes up.”

  She wrapped her arms around her waist, glaring at him with thinly veiled hurt. “I should toss you out on your ass,” she said, the words holding a faint but audible tremor.

  His heart contracted. “I hope you won’t.” There were things he needed to tell her before they became intimate, and if he wasn’t ready to come clean, then he wasn’t ready to have sex with Phoebe. He hurt just looking at her. With her hair mussed and her protective posture, she seemed far younger than he knew her to be. Achingly vulnerable.

  She lifted her chin. “We won’t do this again. You keep to yourself, and I’ll keep my end of the bargain. Good night, Leo.” Turning on her heel, she left him.

  The room seemed cold and lonely in her absence. Had he made the most colossal mistake of his life? The fire between the two of them burned hot and bright. She was perfection in his arms, sensual, giving, as intuitive a lover as he had ever envisaged.

  Despite his unfilled passion, he knew he had done the right thing. Phoebe wasn’t the kind of woman who had sex without thinking it through. Despite her apparent willingness tonight to do just that, he knew she would have blamed both herself and him when it was all over.

  What he wanted from her, if indeed he had a chance of ever getting close to her again, was trust. He had secrets to share. And he suspected she did, as well. So he could wait for the other, the carnal satisfaction. Maybe….

  * * *

  Phoebe climbed into her cold bed with tears of humiliation wetting her cheeks. No matter what Leo said, tonight had been a rejection. What kind of man could call a halt when he was completely aroused and almost at the point of penetration? Only one who wasn’t fully involved or committed to the act of lovemaking.

  Perhaps she had inadvertently stimulated him with her foot massage. And maybe the intimacy of their nap in front of the fire had given him a buzz. But in the end, Phoebe simply wasn’t who or what he wanted.

  The fact that she could be badly hurt by a man she had met only recently gave her pause. Was she so desperate? So lonely? Tonight’s debacle had given her some painful truths to examine.

  But self-reflection would have to wait, because despite her distress, she could barely keep her eyes open….

  * * *

  Leo slept late the next morning. Not intentionally, but because he had been up much of the night pacing the floor. Sometime before dawn he had taken a shower and pleasured himself, but it had been a hollow exercise whose only purpose was to allow him to find oblivion in much-needed sleep.

  The clock read almost ten when he made his way to the front of the house. He liked the open floor plan of the living room and kitchen, because it gave fewer places for Phoebe to hide.

  Today, however, he was dumbstruck to find that she was nowhere in the house. And Teddy’s crib was empty.

  A twinge of panic gripped him until he found both of them out on the front porch chatting with the man who had come to remove the enormous fallen oak tree. When he stepped outside, Phoebe’s quick disapproving glance reminded him that he had neither shaved nor combed his hair.

  The grizzled workman who could have been anywhere from fifty to seventy saluted them with tobacco-stained fingers and headed down the lane to where he had parked his truck.

  “I’m sorry,” Leo said stiffly. “I was supposed to be handling this.”

  Phoebe’s lips smiled, but her gaze was wintry. “No problem. Teddy and I dealt with it. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get him down for his morning nap.”

  “But I—”

  She shut the door in his face, leaving him out in the cold…literally.

  He paused on the porch to count to ten, or maybe a hundred. Then, when he thought he had a hold on his temper, he went back inside and scavenged the kitchen for a snack to hold him until lunch. A couple of pieces of cold toast he found on a plate by the stove would have to do. He slathered them with some of Phoebe’s homemade strawberry jam and sat down at the table. When Phoebe returned, he had finished eating and had also realized that he needed a favor. Not a great time to ask, but what the heck.

  She ignored him pointedly, but he wasn’t going to let a little cold shoulder put him off. “May I use your phone?” he asked politely.

  “Why?”

  “I’m going to order a new phone from your carrier since mine is virtually useless, and I also want to get internet service going. I’ll pay the contract fees for a year, but when I leave you can drop it if you want to.”

  “That’s pretty expensive for a short-term solution. It must be nice to be loaded.”

  He ground his teeth together, reminding himself that she was still upset about last night. “I won’t apologize for having money,” he said quietly. “I work very hard.”

  “Is it really that important to stay plugged in? Can’t you go cold turkey for two months?” Phoebe was pale. She looked at him as if she would put him on the first plane out if she could.

  How had they become combatants? He stared at her until her cheeks flushed and she looked away. “Technology and business are not demons,” he said. “We live in the information age.”

  “And what about your recovery?”

  “What about it?”

  “I got the impression that you were supposed to stay away from business in order to rest and recuperate.”

  “I can do that and still have access to the world.”

  She took a step in his direction. “Can you? Can you really? Because from where I’m standing, you look like a guy who is determined to get what he wants when he wants it. Your doctor may have given you orders. Your brother may have, as well. But I doubt you respect them enough to really do what they’ve asked.”

  Her harsh assessment hit a little too close to home. “I’m following doctor’s orders, I swear. Though it’s really none of your business.” The defensive note in his voice made him cringe inwardly. Was he honestly the ass she described?

  “Do what you have to do,” she said, pulling her phone from her pocket and handing it to him. Her expression was a mix of disappointment and resignation. “But I would caution you to think long and hard about the people who love you. And why it is that you’re here.”

  At that moment, Leo saw a large delivery truck pull up in front of the cabin. Good, his surprise had arrived. Maybe it would win him some brownie points with Phoebe. And deflect her from the uncomfortable subject of his recuperation.

  She went to the door as the bell rang. “But I didn’t order anything,” she protested when the man in brown set a large box just inside the door.

  “Plea
se sign here, ma’am,” he said patiently.

  The door slammed and Phoebe stared down at the box as if it possibly contained dynamite.

  “Open it,” Leo said.

  * * *

  Phoebe couldn’t help being a little anxious when she tore into the package. It didn’t have foreign postage, so it was not from her sister. She pulled back the cardboard flaps and stared in amazement. The box was full of food—an expensive ham, casseroles preserved in freezer packs, desserts, fresh fruit, the list was endless.

  She turned to look at Leo, who now lay sprawled on the sofa. “Did you do this?”

  He shrugged, his arms outstretched along the back of the couch. “Before I lost my temper yesterday about my work email, I scrolled through my personal messages and decided to contact a good buddy of mine, a cordon bleu chef in Atlanta who owes me a favor. I felt bad about you agreeing to cook for me all the time, so I asked him to hook us up with some meals. He’s going to send a box once a week.”

  Her mind reeled. Not only was this a beautifully thoughtful gesture, it was also incredibly expensive. She stared at the contents, feeling her dismal mood slip away. A man like Leo would be a lovely companion for the following two months, even if all he wanted from her was friendship.

  Before she could lose her nerve, she crossed the room, leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. His look of shock made her face heat. “Don’t worry,” she said wryly. “That was completely platonic. I merely wanted to say thank-you for a lovely gift.”

  He grasped her wrist, his warm touch sending ripples of heat all the way up her arm. “You’re welcome, Phoebe. But of course, it’s partially a selfish thing. I get to enjoy the bounty, as well.” His smile could charm the birds off the trees. In repose, Leo’s rugged features seemed austere, even intimidating. But when he smiled, the force of his charisma increased exponentially.

  Feeling something inside her soul ease at the cessation of hostilities, she returned the smile, though she pulled away and put a safe distance between them. It was no use being embarrassed or awkward around Leo. She wasn’t so heartless as to throw him out, and truthfully, she didn’t want to. Teddy was a sweetheart, but having another adult in the house was a different kind of stimulation.