A Billionaire for Christmas

by Janice Maynard

  Leo grabbed the bottom section and pulled, easing it to the floor. He set his foot on the first rung. “What do you want me to get first?”

  “The order doesn’t really matter. I want it all. Except for the tree. That can stay. Here,” she said, handing him a flashlight from her pocket. “I almost forgot.”

  Leo climbed, using the heavy flashlight to illuminate cobwebs so he could swat them away. Perhaps because the cabin was fairly new, or maybe because Phoebe was an organized sort, her attic was not a hodgepodge of unidentified mess. Neatly labeled cardboard cartons and large plastic tubs had been stacked in a tight perimeter around the top of the stairs within easy reach.

  Some of the containers were fairly heavy. He wondered how she had managed to get them up here. He heard a screech and bent to stick his head out the hole. “What’s wrong?”

  Phoebe shuddered. “A spider. I didn’t think all this stuff would have gotten so icky in just three years.”

  “Shall I stop?”

  She grimaced. “No. We might as well finish. I’ll just take two or three showers when we’re done.”

  He tossed her a small box that was light as a feather. In neat black marker, Phoebe had labeled Treetop Angel. When she caught it, he grinned at her. “I’d be glad to help with that body check. I’ll search the back of your hair for creepy-crawlies.”

  “I can’t decide if that’s revolting or exciting. Seems like you made a similar offer when you were convincing me to let you stay. Only then, you promised to kill hypothetical bugs.”

  “Turns out I was right, doesn’t it?” He returned to his task, his body humming with arousal. He’d never paid much attention to the holidays. But with Phoebe, suddenly all the chores surrounding Christmas took on a whole new dimension.

  By the time he had brought down the last box and stored away the stairs, Phoebe was elbows-deep into a carton of ornaments.

  She held up a tiny glass snowman. “My grandmother gave me this when I was eight.”

  He crouched beside her. “Is she still alive?”

  “No. Sadly.”

  “And your parents?” He was close enough to brush his lips across the nape of her neck, but he refrained.

  Phoebe sank back on her bottom and crossed her legs, working to separate a tangle of glittery silver beads. “My parents were hit by a drunk driver when my sister and I were in high school. A very kind foster family took us in and looked after us until we were able to graduate and get established in college.”

  “And since then?”

  “Dana and I are very close.”

  “No significant others in your past?”

  She frowned at the knot that wouldn’t give way. “What about your family, Leo?”

  He heard the unspoken request for privacy, so he backed off. “Oddly enough, you and I have that in common. Luc and I were seventeen and eighteen when we lost our parents. Only it was a boating accident. My father loved his nautical toys, and he was addicted to the adrenaline rush of speed. We were in Italy visiting my grandfather one spring break. Dad took a friend’s boat out, just he and my mom. On the way back, he hit a concrete piling at high speed as they were approaching the dock.”

  “Oh, my God.” Her hands stilled. “How dreadful.”

  He nodded, the memory bleak even after all this time. “Grandfather insisted on having autopsies done. My mother wasn’t wearing a life jacket. She drowned when she was flung into the water. I took comfort in the fact that she was probably unconscious when she died, because she had a severe head wound.”

  “And your father?”

  Leo swallowed. “He had a heart attack. That’s what caused him to lose control of the boat.” Repeating the words stirred something dark and ugly in his gut. To know that he was his father’s son had never pained him more than in the past few months.

  Phoebe put a hand on his arm. “But wasn’t he awfully young?”

  “Forty-one.”

  “Oh, Leo. I’m so very sorry.”

  He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. After the funerals, Grandfather took Luc and I back to Italy to live with him. He insisted we attend college in Rome. Some would say we were lucky to have had such an education, but we were miserable for a long time. Our grief was twofold, of course. On top of that, Grandfather is not an easy man to love.” He hesitated for a moment. “I don’t tell many people that story, but you understand what it feels like to have the rug ripped out from under your feet.”

  “I do indeed. My parents were wonderful people. They always encouraged Dana and me to go for any goal we wanted. Never any question of it being too hard or not a girl thing. Losing them changed our lives.”

  Silence fell like a pall. Leo tugged at her braid. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to take us down such a dismal path.”

  She rested her head against his hand. “It’s hard not to think of family at this time of year, especially the ones we’ve lost. I’m glad you’re here, Leo.”

  Ten

  She wasn’t sure who initiated the intimate contact. Their lips met briefly, sweetly. The taste of him was as warm and comfortable as a summer rain. She felt the erotic river of molten lava hidden just beneath the surface, but as if by unspoken consent, the kiss remained soft and easy.

  Leaning into him, she let herself be bolstered by his strength. One big arm supported her back. He was virile and sexy. She couldn’t be blamed for wanting more. “Leo,” she muttered.

  All she said was his name, but she felt the shudder that ran through him. “What?” he asked hoarsely. “What, Phoebe?”

  A million different answers hovered at the tip of her tongue.

  Undress me. Touch my bare skin. Make love to me. Instead, she managed to be sensible. “Let me put some music on to get us in the mood for decorating.”

  “I am in the mood,” he grumbled. But he smiled when he said it and kissed the tip of her nose. Then he sobered. “To be absolutely clear, I want you in my bed, tonight, Phoebe. When the little man is sound asleep and not likely to interrupt us.”

  His eyes were dark chocolate, sinful and rich and designed to make a woman melt into their depths. She stared at him, weighing the risks. As a financial speculator, she played hunches and often came out on top. But taking Leo as a lover was infinitely more dangerous.

  He was here only for a short while. And though Phoebe had made peace with her demons and embraced her new lifestyle, she was under no illusions that Leo had done the same. He was anxious to return home. Coming to the mountains had been some sort of penance for him, a healing ritual that he accepted under protest.

  Leo would never be content to stagnate. He had too much energy, too much life.

  She touched his cheek, knowing that her acquiescence was a forgone conclusion. “Yes. I’d like that, too. And I’m sorry that we can’t be more spontaneous. A new relationship should be hot and crazy and passionate.” Like this morning when you nearly took me standing up. Her pulse tripped and stumbled as her thighs tightened in remembrance.

  Leo cupped her hand to his face with one big palm. “It will be, Phoebe, darlin’. Don’t you worry about that.”

  * * *

  To Phoebe’s surprise and delight, the afternoon became one long, drawn-out session of foreplay. Leo built a fire so high and hot they both had to change into T-shirts to keep cool. Phoebe found a radio station that played classic Christmas songs. She teased Leo unmercifully when she realized he never remembered any of the second verses, and instead made up his own words.

  Together, they dug out a collection of balsam-scented candles, lit them and set them on the coffee table. During the summer, the trapped heat in the attic had melted the wax a bit, so the ones that were supposed to be Christmas trees looked more like drunken bushes.

  Phoebe laughed. “Perhaps I should just throw them away.”

  Leo shook
his head. “Don’t do that. They have character.”

  “If you say so.” She leaned down and squinted at them. “They look damaged to me. Beyond repair.”

  “Looks can be deceiving.”

  Something in his voice—an odd note—caught her attention. He was staring at the poor trees as if all the answers to life’s great questions lay trapped in green wax.

  What did Leo Cavallo know about being damaged? As far as Phoebe could see, he was at the peak of his physical strength and mental acuity. Sleek muscles whispered of his ability to hold a woman…to protect her. And in a contest of wits, she would need to stay on her toes to best him. Intelligence crackled in his eyes and in his repartee.

  Leo was the whole package, and Phoebe wanted it all.

  Gradually, the room was transformed. With Leo’s assistance, Phoebe hung garland from the mantel and around the doorways, intertwining it with tiny white lights that sparkled and danced even in the daytime. She would have preferred fresh greenery. But with a baby to care for and a cabin to repair, she had to accept her limits.

  Leo spent over an hour tacking silver, green and gold snowflakes to the ceiling. Far more meticulous than she would have been, he measured and arranged them until every glittering scrap of foil was perfectly placed. The masculine satisfaction on his face as he stood, neck craned, and surveyed his handiwork amused her, but she was quick to offer the appropriate accolades.

  In addition to the misshapen candles, the coffee table now sported a red wool runner appliquéd in reindeer. The Merry Christmas rug she remembered from her home in Charlotte now lay in front of a new door. The kitchen table boasted dark green place mats and settings of Christmas china.

  At long last, Leo flopped down on the sofa with a groan. “You really like Christmas, don’t you?”

  She joined him, curling into his embrace as naturally as if they were old friends. “I lost the spirit for a few years, but with Teddy here, this time I think it will be pretty magical.” Weighing her words, she finally asked the question she had been dying to have him answer. “What about you, Leo? Your sister-in-law made your reservation for two months. But you’ll go home for the holidays, won’t you?”

  Playing lazily with the ends of her braid, he sighed. “I hadn’t really thought about it. Many times in the past six or eight years, Luc and I flew to Italy to be with Grandfather for Christmas. But when Luc and Hattie married the year before last, Grandfather actually came over here, though he swore it wouldn’t be an annual thing, because the trip wore him out. Now, with two little ones, I think Luc and Hattie deserve their own family Christmas.”

  “And what about you?”

  Leo shrugged. “I’ll have an invitation or two, I’m sure.”

  “You could stay here with Teddy and me.” Only when she said the words aloud did she realize how desperately she wanted him to say yes.

  He half turned to face her. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

  Was he serious? She was a single woman caring for a baby that wasn’t hers in a lonely cabin in the woods. “I think we can make room,” she said drily. Without pausing to think of the ramifications, she ran a hand through his thick hair. The color, rich chestnut shot through with dark gold, was far too gorgeous for a man, not really fair at all.

  Leo closed his eyes and leaned back, a smile on his face, but fine tension in his body. “That would be nice….” he said, trailing off as though her gentle scalp massage was making it hard to speak.

  She put her head on his chest. With only a thin navy T-shirt covering his impressive upper physique, she could hear the steady ka-thud, ka-thud, ka-thud of his heart. “Perhaps we should wait and see how tonight goes,” she muttered. “I’m out of practice, to be honest.” Better he know now than later.

  Moving so quickly that she never saw it coming, he took hold of her and placed her beneath him on the sofa, his long, solid frame covering hers as he kissed his way down her throat. One of his legs lodged between her thighs, opening her to the possibility of something reckless. She lifted her hips instinctively. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded.

  He found her breasts and took one nipple between his teeth, wetting the fabric of her shirt and bra as he tormented her with a bite that was just short of pain. Fire shot from the place where his mouth touched her all the way to her core. Shivers of pleasure racked her.

  Suddenly, Leo reared back, laughing and cursing.

  Blankly, she stared up at him, her body at a fever pitch of longing. “What? Tell me, Leo.”

  “Listen. The baby’s awake.”

  * * *

  When a knock sounded at the door minutes later, Leo knew he and Phoebe had narrowly escaped embarrassment on top of sexual frustration. She was out of sight tending to Teddy, so Leo greeted the man at the door with a smile. “Can I help you?”

  The old codger in overalls looked him up and down. “Name’s Buford. These sugared pecans is from my wife. She knowed they were Miss Phoebe’s favorite, so she made up an extra batch after she finished the ones for the church bazaar. Will you give ’em to her?”

  Leo took the paper sack. “I’d be happy to. She’s feeding the baby a bottle, I think, but she should be finished in a moment. Would you like to come in?”

  “Naw. Thanks. Are you the fella that was going to rent the other cabin?”

  “Yes, sir, I am.”

  “Don’t be gettin’ any ideas. Miss Phoebe’s pretty popular with the neighbors. We look out fer her.”

  “I understand.”

  “You best get some extra firewood inside. Gonna snow tonight.”

  “Really?” The afternoon sunshine felt more like spring than Christmas.

  “Weather changes quicklike around here.”

  “Thanks for the warning, Buford.”

  With a tip of his cap, the guy ambled away, slid into a rust-covered pickup truck and backed up to turn and return the way he had come.

  Leo closed the door. Despite feeling like a sneaky child, he unfolded the top of the sack and stole three sugary pecans.

  Phoebe caught him with his hand in the bag…literally. “What’s that?” she asked, patting Teddy on the back to burp him.

  Leo chewed and swallowed, barely resisting the urge to grab another handful of nuts. “Your farmer friend, Buford, came by. How old is he anyway?”

  “Buford is ninety-eight and his wife is ninety-seven. They were both born in the Great Smoky Mountains before the land became a national park. The house Buford and Octavia now live in is the one he built for her when they married in the early 1930s, just as the Depression was gearing up.”

  “A log cabin?”

  “Yes. With a couple of rambling additions. They still used an actual outhouse up until the mid-eighties when their kids and grandkids insisted that Buford and Octavia were getting too old to go outside in the dead of winter to do their business.”

  “What happened then?”

  “The relatives chipped in and installed indoor plumbing.”

  “Good Lord.” Leo did some rapid math. “If they married in the early thirties, then—”

  “They’ll be celebrating their eightieth anniversary in March.”

  “That seems impossible.”

  “She was seventeen. Buford one year older. It happened all the time.”

  “Not their ages. I mean the part about eighty years together. How can anything last that long?”

  “I’ve wondered that myself. After all, even a thirty-five-year marriage is becoming harder to find among my peers’ parents.”

  Leo studied Phoebe, trying to imagine her shoulders stooped with age and her beautiful skin lined with wrinkles. She would be lovely still at sixty, and even seventy. But closing in on a hundredth birthday? Could any couple plan on spending 85 percent of an entire life looking at the same face across the breakfa
st table every morning? It boggled the mind.

  Somehow, though, when he really thought about it, he was able see Phoebe in that scenario. She was strong and adaptable and willing to step outside her comfort zone. He couldn’t imagine ever being bored by her. She had a sharp mind and an entertaining sense of humor. Not to mention a body that wouldn’t quit.

  Leo, himself, had never fallen in love even once. Relationships, good ones, took time and effort. Until now, he’d never met a woman capable of making him think long term.

  Phoebe was another story altogether. He still didn’t fully understand the decision that had brought her to the mountains, but he planned on sticking around at least long enough to find out. She intrigued him, entertained him and aroused him. Perhaps it was their isolation, but he felt a connection that transcended common sense and entered the realm of the heart. He was hazy about what he wanted from her in the long run. But tonight’s agenda was crystal clear.

  He desired Phoebe. Deeply. As much and as painfully as a man could hunger for a woman. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, she was going to be his.

  * * *

  To Phoebe’s eyes, Leo seemed to zone out for a moment. She didn’t feel comfortable demanding an explanation, not even a joking “Penny for your thoughts.” Instead, she tried a distraction. “Teddy is fed and dry and rested at the moment. If we’re going to get a tree, the time is right.”

  Leo snapped out of his fog and nodded, staring at the baby. “You don’t think it will be too cold?”

  “I have a snowsuit to put on him. That should be plenty of insulation for today. I’ll get the two of us ready. If you don’t mind going out to the shed, you can get the ax. It’s just inside the door.”

  “You have an ax?” He was clearly taken aback.

  “Well, yes. How else would we cut down a tree?”

  “But you told me you haven’t had a Christmas tree since you’ve been here. Why do you need an ax?”

  She shrugged. “I split my own wood. Or at least I did in the pre-Teddy days. Now I can’t take the chance that something might happen to me and he’d be in the house helpless. So I pay a high school boy to do it.”