Dr Zinetti's Snowkissed Bride / The Christmas Baby Bump

by Sarah Morgan / Lynne Marshall

  Phil grabbed him by the collar then held him over his hip. Robbie kicked and griped. Phil glanced at Stephanie, his embarrassment obvious. “Sometimes I just can’t control this kid.”

  “Tell you what,” she said, trying not to smile as Robbie continued to squeal with delight. She had half an urge to toss the ball back to him, even though it was against the rules, but Phil was setting limits and she didn’t want to confuse the boy. “I’ll peel the potatoes while you two work off some extra energy.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He nodded with a grateful glance. “Okay, buster, you’re gonna get what for,” he said with mock seriousness.

  “No!” Robbie said. “You’re gonna get what for!”

  Stephanie couldn’t help but smile. She watched momentarily as they headed outside, an odd sensation taking hold. Ignoring the nudge toward a change of heart, she headed for the kitchen.

  Phil’s house was laid out so that the kitchen flowed directly into the family room, and the family room opened to a patio, and beyond that the huge expanse of verdant yard was accented by flowering hibiscus in white and red and assorted leafy bushes. From the large ranch-style kitchen windows she could see their wild game of catch or dodge-the-beach-ball or whatever their version of “what for” was called. Seemed as if all Phil’s griping about being stuck with his kid brother for ten days was nothing more than a cover. And Robbie was having the time of his life, laughing, throwing, and running all over the place. Looked like kid’s heaven to her. And Phil played the role of a benevolent uncle wanting nothing more than to make the kid happy.

  Happy.

  That was a word that had slipped from her vocabulary these past three years. As she peeled the potatoes, sliced and dropped them into a bowl of cold water, she pondered how inviting the old and nearly forgotten feeling was. Her lips stretched into a broad smile that reached like a warm glove into her chest and squeezed her heart. Welcome back to the living. Happy felt great.

  It hit her before the next breath. She’d admitted being happy and she was in the company of a little boy. Wow. Maybe things were finally breaking through that guilt logjam.

  Robbie was a sweet kid. Justin was a memory she’d always hold deep in her heart and never forget, but Robbie wasn’t Justin. She wasn’t Robbie’s mother. She wasn’t responsible for him. Why be afraid of him? Did she want to spend the rest of her life cowering around all children, or was it finally time to face her fear?

  She wiped her hands on the dish towel and walked toward the French doors. As she opened them and walked onto the patio, she swallowed and took a steadying breath. “Um…” Her gaze darted around the yard as she picked at her nails.

  Phil quit jogging and gave her an odd look. “Is everything okay?”

  Her hand flew to her hair. “Yeah. Um…I was just wondering…”

  He took a few steps toward her, a concerned expression clouding his good looks. At the moment, passing the medical boards seemed easier than what she wanted to say. Another deep breath.

  “Do you have room for one more in that game?”

  By the time the potatoes had boiled, Phil had followed Stephanie back to the kitchen. Robbie looked sufficiently pooped out and sat in front of a children’s DVD in his little corner of the family room. On a separate large-screen TV the annual Thanksgiving Texas football game was going on.

  “I’d better put the yams in the oven,” Phil said. “I got this dish from my caterer.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the gorgeous-looking casserole complete with pecans on top. Phil opened a top oven, slid the dish inside then checked on the turkey in the lower oven, basting it as if he’d done this before.

  “You’re making my mouth water,” she said, savoring the smell. She’d worked up quite an appetite running around with Robbie and Phil. And it hadn’t wiped her out emotionally either. If anything, it had invigorated her.

  “It’ll be done in another half hour. In the meantime, I’m having a beer. Can I get you anything?”

  Could she even remember the last time she’d had a glass of wine? “I’ll try that wine I brought.”

  “You’re on.”

  By the time they’d set the table, made the gravy, and laid out all the food, the few sips of wine she’d managed to find time to take had already gone to her head. The pleasant buzz filtered throughout her body, heating her insides and causing her to smile. A lot. How could a few sips of wine make her feel that giddy? Maybe this great feeling had a lot more to do with Phil, Robbie, and Thanksgiving than the liquid spirits. She took another sip, loving the way the simply laid-out table looked, and before he signaled for her to sit, she grabbed her purse.

  “Wait,” she said. “I want to take a picture of this. It’s so beautiful.” She dug out her cell phone and snapped first a picture of the turkey in the center of the table, then had Robbie and Phil pose for one, heads close to the bird. Then she snapped one of herself at arm’s length with the two of them beside her and the turkey in the background. In her opinion, all three were keepers, even if the third one, taken at such close range, looked as if they all had oversize noses and heads.

  Things had been so busy all afternoon she hadn’t allowed herself to examine Phil’s proximity to her until now as they studied her photographs. She felt his warmth and it called to her. Reacting before thinking, she turned and reached for him, gave him a hug, and kissed his cheek.

  “Thank you so much for inviting me,” she said, a little bit of her heart going out of her. Though frightening at first, his welcoming reception gave her courage not to pull back inside. Maybe Phil was someone she could let her hair down around.

  “I’m really glad you’re here,” he said with a sincere glint in his eyes, as if on the verge of kissing her.

  “Pill! Eat!”

  He rolled his eyes. “Can you imagine how hard it would have been to keep him entertained all afternoon by myself?”

  She laughed. He’d given her a compliment then quickly yanked it back.

  “Eat now!” Robbie chanted.

  “Right,” he said. “First order of business.”

  Once everyone was seated at the table, and their plates were filled, Phil surprised her even more. “Robbie? Will you say grace for us?” He looked at her and winked. “I got a note from preschool saying they’ve been practicing.”

  The boy’s big brown eyes grew serious. He licked his lips a couple of times, obviously considering what to say, then he clamped his lids together. “Thank you for da peshell food. For my fambly. For Pill. And for Theff-oh-nee.”

  With her head bowed, big fat tears brimmed as Stephanie blinked and whispered, “Amen.”

  Thanksgiving dinner had gone better than Phil could possibly have dreamed. After they’d worn him out playing ball, Robbie was on his best behavior. And Phil had almost fallen over when Stephanie had asked if she could join in. She’d chased Robbie around the yard as if she were a kid again, as if it didn’t bother her anymore to be around him. After the panic he’d caused her that first night, this was an amazing improvement.

  Dinner was exceptional, if he did say so himself. Not one thing got burned, except for the crescent rolls, and that was only a little on the bottoms. They were still edible, especially if you loaded them up with sweetened cranberry sauce straight from the caterer.

  Stephanie was more animated than he’d ever seen her. It brightened those gorgeous eyes and made her prettier than he’d previously thought, dazzling him with her easy charm. Too bad his eyelids were at half-mast and his stomach so full that he didn’t have the energy to get up and walk across the room to plant a kiss on her. If he didn’t move in the next few seconds he’d fall asleep. Some impression that would make.

  “You sit, and I’ll clean up,” she said. “It’s the least I can do.”

  He thought about protesting, but the couch felt great and it was the third quarter in the game and Dallas was only ahead by a field goal. Robbie crawled up and snuggled beside him. That did it. “Thanks!”

  By the
time Stephanie had finished the dishes, Phil and Robbie had fallen asleep. The sight of the two of them on the couch sent a chill through her heart. A memory flashed of her holding her baby, exhausted, eyelids heavy, the couch inviting her to settle down and rest, just for a moment…

  Didn’t Phil know how dangerous that was? A pop of adrenaline drove her to rush to the sofa. She delicately lifted Robbie so as not to wake him or disturb Phil. She couldn’t very well hold him as if he had a dirty diaper and expect him to stay asleep, so she brought him to her chest. On automatic pilot, Robbie wrapped his legs around her waist, and hung his arms over her shoulders. She anchored him beneath his bottom and across his back, and he nuzzled his head against her neck. A rush of motherly feelings made her feel dizzy. He was so much heavier and bigger than Justin, her four-monthold baby.

  She hugged Robbie tight and, determined not to succumb to her woozy feeling, walked carefully down the hall to his room. She could do this. It was time to prove she could.

  As she prepared him for his nap, his sublime expression sent her thoughts to Justin. He’d always looked like an angel when he’d slept. Sweetheart, Mommy will always love you. Please forgive me.

  She bit her lip and fought the pinpricks behind her lids as she wondered how different her life would have been if she’d put her baby to bed that night. Today, through Robbie, she’d pretend she had…

  At some point Phil had drifted off to sleep, and the next thing he remembered was a cool hand on his cheek. Her hand. The faint feel of her fingers reminded him of butterfly wings, delicate and beautiful, and easily harmed. Strangely, it made him want to look out for her in the same odd way he wanted to protect Robbie.

  He must have stretched out on the couch because she sat on the edge, facing him.

  “Are you ready for dessert?” she asked, sending a thought through his brain completely different from what she’d probably intended. “I’ve made some coffee.”

  Ah, that dessert.

  Through his bleary eyes, her familiar butterscotch-and-cream features came into focus. Without thinking, he took her hand and kissed her slender fingers. “I’d love some,” he said, thinking more about what he’d really like right then.

  Heat radiated from his gaze, and half of her mouth hitched into a knowing smile as she edged away. “Don’t move. I’ll bring it to you.”

  As he woke up a little more, he got suddenly curious. “Where’s Robbie?” He sat bolt upright, a sudden knot of concern lodged in his chest.

  “He fell asleep, too. I hope you don’t mind, but I put him to bed.”

  “You put him to bed? How long have I been out?”

  “An hour, give or take a few minutes.”

  He scrubbed his face. “Man, some host I am.”

  “You’ve been a perfect host,” she said, on her way to the kitchen, practically skipping. This was a side of Stephanie he’d never seen, and definitely liked. She’d come outside and played with him and Robbie, though it had felt like pulling teeth to get her to ask. She’d shared Thanksgiving with them, as if they were a small and happy family—this from the woman who hadn’t been able to go near them in the Japanese restaurant. And now she’d put Robbie to bed.

  While she was busy preparing coffee and dessert in the kitchen, he wandered down the hall to Robbie’s room. The door had been left a few inches open, like Roma had instructed Phil the first night she’d left him. Robbie slept peacefully…in his blanket sleeper.

  What kind of a woman would think to put him in his pajamas and leave the door ajar? He thought about some of the women he’d dated over the past year. He’d bet his house that none of them would have thought of it. Hell, they’d probably have left him right on the couch where they’d found him, but not Stephanie.

  Phil scratched his head as he exited the bedroom, leaving the door as he’d found it. Who would be that considerate?

  A mother, that was who.

  Was Stephanie a mother? Then why would she freak out around kids? And if she was a mother, where was her child? Maybe she’d been through a bad divorce, and her husband had gotten custody. Nah, that seemed too outrageous. The woman was a doctor and a great person. Sometimes disgruntled husbands kidnapped their kids. He shook his head, unable to go there, but something tormented her and he intended to find out what it was.

  He glanced into the kitchen, at Stephanie pottering around, whistling under her breath. She’d come out of her shell today. He’d just begun to glimpse a different side of Stephanie Bennett, and he liked what he’d discovered. Even with all of his questions, Thanksgiving wasn’t a day to dig up her past. He didn’t want to spoil her upbeat mood; the lady deserved a break.

  A subtle smoothness to her brow made him think she’d made peace with herself today, that maybe she’d conquered a demon or two, and he was glad to witness it.

  She looked great, too. Those straight-leg jeans hugged her hips in all the right places, and the silky top revealed the hint of a soft, sweet cleavage. And her hair. What could he say about that gorgeous head of hair, other than he’d love to get his fingers tangled up in it?

  By the time he sat down, she showed up with two cups of coffee, handing him one and sitting on the edge of the sofa again. “As I said, you’re a fantastic host. I haven’t felt this relaxed in ages. Besides, that’s the beauty of a huge turkey dinner in the afternoon. You get to nap and wake up in time for a sandwich later.” There was that bright smile again. “Oh, and Dallas won.”

  “Go, Cowboys!” What was it about her smile that drove him over the edge? From this closer range the fine sprinkling of freckles he’d discovered across her nose looked the exact color of her hair. She was a vision he thought he’d never get tired of, and he wanted to hold her, to feel her hair on his face, to kiss those freckles, but he was holding a hot cup of coffee instead.

  They’d had a great afternoon together, really gotten to know each other better, and he liked every single thing he’d discovered.

  She sat next to him with her leg curled under her. She’d slipped off her shoes, and he noticed polished toenails that matched her top. A fleeting image of her in a bath towel, painting her nails, sent a quick thrill through his veins. He wanted her, pure and simple. He wanted to make love to her, to make her come alive.

  No risk, no gain.

  He set the cup down, and reached for her. “Come here,” he said.

  Surprise flickered in her eyes. She put her cup on the table and with no sign of resistance snuggled into his arms. He kissed her cheek then brushed her mouth with his thumb. “You have no idea how much I want to kiss you,” he said.

  She tasted his thumb. He saw a flash of fire in those butterscotch depths. There wasn’t any question what her answer was. She tilted her chin to make better contact as their mouths came together.

  He picked up where he’d left off at the beach, slipping his tongue between her soft lips, and found her velvet-slick mouth.

  She cupped his face and kissed him hard. He delved deeper, ravenous for her taste, then mated his tongue with hers. They made love with their mouths as time ceased to exist. He had no idea how long they’d necked, all he knew was that she matched his heated response, pressing her body against his, smothering him with her lips. He knew where needy kisses like that led, and there was no going back.

  The fine skin of her neck tasted like vanilla. She moaned as if he’d uncovered the most sensual spot on her body. He wanted to explore more, discover every area that drove her mad with desire, but she was fully clothed. He’d have to fix that. Immediately. He cupped her breast, and felt the tightened nipple under the thin fabric of her top. His ears were so hot he thought they might spontaneously combust, and his now-full erection pulsed and strained to be set free.

  As difficult as it was, he broke away from her firedup kisses, stood, and took her hand. “Follow me.”

  With flushed cheeks and hooded eyes, eyes that confirmed she wanted him as much as he wanted her, she followed him down the long hall.

  Stephanie watched Ph
il throw back the covers of his bed and step toward her. He took her by the neck and kissed her so hard she thought her knees would go wobbly.

  This was no time to change her mind. Her mind? Hell, she’d misplaced that right around the time he’d kissed her. If she was going to change her mind it had to be now, but desire shivered through her and the only thing in the world she wanted at this moment was to make love with him. She was on fire. A feeling she hadn’t experienced in three years pulsed between her legs, and one thing was very clear. Phil wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  Hadn’t she been telling herself to start living again? Every sensation coursing over her skin and through her veins shouted, Do it! Give yourself permission. Phil’s mouth clamped down on hers again, and the no-brainer decision was made.

  Completely giving in to the moment, she found a way under his shirt and skimmed the taut muscles on his chest, her hands skating across his substantial shoulders. It had been so long since she’d touched a man this way. She savored the feel of naked flesh. His skin was smooth with a fine sprinkling of hair on his chest, and she wanted to see him. See all of him.

  “Let me help you,” he said, pulling his shirt over his head, buttons untouched.

  She only had time to glimpse his flat stomach and defined arms before he did the disappearing act with her top. A hot rhythm between her thighs drove her to undo his jeans. He yanked them down and stepped out, his erection outlined through his black briefs. With a rush of desire she cupped the full length of him, restless to see him, to feel him inside her.

  To feel. Him. She’d been living on anxiety and tension for so long, this surge of lust intoxicated her. Every cell in her body came to life, heightening his touch and sweetening his taste. It empowered her, made her think she could do anything. With Phil. She pulled his briefs down and watched as he stepped out of them. She’d seen his physique in the wet suit the other day, but it couldn’t compare to him in the flesh. His powerful legs and full erection was a picture she’d hold in her memory for the rest of her life.