Dr Zinetti's Snowkissed Bride / The Christmas Baby Bump

by Sarah Morgan / Lynne Marshall

  How in the world would she make it through the day without mauling the man?

  She’d been losing sleep, having hot and restless dreams of tussling in bedsheets with a strange man. The dreams had been so realistic; she could practically feel the man’s weight on her body, driving himself into her. Hell, she knew exactly who the guy was. Phil. One time she’d woken up with the covers on the floor, throbbing thighs, sheets wadded in her fists, panting, and very frustrated. How in the world should she handle her desire where Phil was concerned?

  They were both adults—why not enjoy each other?

  Later, as she and Phil put the finishing touches on the mainsail Christmas lights, she jumped at his touch.

  “Sorry,” she said, as electricity powered through her veins.

  “You seem a bit flinchy,” he said, drilling her with a stare.

  “I’m just a little uptight with all the new patients and work and all.”

  Phil lowered his voice and lifted her hair, hooking it behind one ear. “It’s Christmastime, pretty baby, loosen up.” The raucous version of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree nearly drowned out his words. “You know, a little TLC might be just the thing you need.”

  A vision of tender loving care, compliments of Phil, whirled through her mind. She couldn’t breathe for a second. He’d spoken the words she’d been afraid to acknowledge. He seemed to know exactly what she’d been thinking, and now her cheeks were probably betraying her by blushing hot pink. She glanced around the busy deck. Fortunately, everyone seemed oblivious to them.

  Why not? Why the hell not have a fling? Was she such a wretched person that she didn’t deserve a little pleasure in life? Phil had already proved what a fantastic lover he was. He hadn’t pushed her into doing anything she hadn’t wanted to. Hell, she’d come up with all kinds of ideas in her dreams lately. It could be fun to try them out…with Phil.

  Did she really want to balance on the precipice of sexual frustration for another month, or slide back into that incredible place he’d taken her before?

  How many times did she need to give herself permission to live?

  Her cheeks flamed and her palms tingled, thinking about it. Slowly, she glanced into his darkening and decidedly sexy stare.

  “Robbie went home last night,” he said, eyes never wavering from hers. “And I owe you that dinner out. What about tonight?”

  What about tonight? She knew what he meant, what he wanted.

  He’d sounded the same when he’d made love to her. Phil’s voice, full of intimate intention, massaged her rising senses, snapping to life key areas and a powerful drive to scratch the itch with him.

  So strong was her physical reaction that if everything else could just disappear, she’d be on him, knocking him down and ripping off his clothes right this instant.

  Nearly trembling with desire, she found her voice, if only a whisper. “Yes. Tonight.”

  That evening, Stephanie had talked herself down from the frantic sexual cliff, but excitement still washed over every cell in her body. She couldn’t wait to see Phil again, to be alone with him. The permission she’d given herself to be with him had been so incredibly freeing.

  He picked her up at her hotel looking impeccable. He wore a perfectly tailored sport coat, dark slacks, and a pale blue shirt open at the collar. Did he realize how the color brought out his eyes? His hair, brushed back from his forehead, curled beneath his earlobes. And that smile—did she stand a chance resisting it? She didn’t want to!

  She’d rushed to the Paseo after they’d finished decorating the boat that afternoon and bought a little black dress. Now, standing before his scrutinizing eyes, she tugged at the skirt with shaky hands. Maybe tonight’s seduction wouldn’t be as easy as she’d fantasized. She didn’t want her nerves to ruin things.

  “Wow,” he said. “You look spectacular.”

  His reaction nearly knocked her off her spiky heels. It was exactly what she’d wanted to hear. He liked what he saw, and that made her ecstatic. In her fantasy, she was a vamp, but here, in front of Phil, all she could say was, “Thanks.”

  His gaze lingered several moments then he scanned from her hair to her brightly polished toes. As if his head was a glass globe, she could practically see his thoughts. He liked what he saw and wanted to indulge. Just as quickly, he snapped out of the spell.

  “I hope you’ve got a warm coat,” he said, brushing a light kiss across her cheek. Man, he smelled as good as he looked. “We’ll be eating outside.”

  What did she care? It would give her an excuse to cuddle up close to him.

  They entered the restaurant, called Bouchon, through a shrubbery-hidden portal, and the first thing Stephanie noticed was shiny light wood floors. The decor was understated yet classy, utilizing matching light wood tables and chairs, and cream-colored tablecloths. Huge modern art canvases supplied needed color on the walls. Her first impression was that the total dining effect was as warm and welcoming as Phil’s hand pressing against hers.

  Phil seemed to know the proprietor of the restaurant and had gotten them a perfectly placed table on the patio. He guided her with his palm at her waist, the barely there pressure at her back already setting off chill rockets. Even though every seat was taken, their cozy corner felt as intimate as Phil’s eyes. The brisk evening air mingled with radiant restaurant heat lamps to create the best of both outdoor and indoor worlds.

  Stephanie inhaled and rolled her shoulders, inviting the long-overdue relaxation to settle in.

  Phil’s taste was flawless. The wine crisp from nearby vineyards, appetizers made from local farmers’ market ingredients, and the main course free range from Santa Barbara microranches.

  Stephanie savored the exquisite taste of plump sea scallops, sharing the appetizer with Phil and with a perfect glass of Chardonnay. He’d insisted she try the seared duck as her main course, the signature dish of the great chef. Who was she to argue?

  He took her hand in his and gazed appreciatively into her eyes. “I’m really glad we finally got our date.”

  So this was what it had all come down to. She hadn’t planned on sleeping with him on Thanksgiving, but hadn’t regretted it for a second. She’d backtracked a bit from her permission, but seeing Phil as a whole person, committed to his job and connected to his family, drove her to know him more. The decision to take the moment by the horns and ride it for all it was worth, or walk away a frustrated and closed-off woman, remained in her hands.

  She glanced at Phil, latticed moonlight shadows making him all the more intriguing. The decision seemed obvious.

  She couldn’t help but smile as warm tingles worked their way through her insides. She could blame it on the wine and great food, but she knew better. Only Phil could set that kind of reaction twisting through her. Her decision final, she’d skip dessert at the restaurant, instead saving up for the special delights that Phil Hansen had to offer.

  Three hours later, flat on her back, Stephanie lay panting, staring at the ceiling, flushed and tingling…everywhere! Phil should have a doctorate in making love.

  Never in her life had she given in to her desires, completely exempt of expectations, and gone with her mood. Until now. With Phil. He had a way of drawing that out of her. She didn’t feel tawdry about it, either. With him, making love came as naturally as breathing, and, boy, was she out of breath.

  He nuzzled her neck, sending yet another wave of chills across her skin. “That was perfect,” he said, husky and still revved up.

  She slipped her arm across his torso and curled into his shoulder. Secure in his embrace, and content beyond words, she sighed. “We’ll have to do this again sometime.”

  His devilish laugh vibrated through his chest. “Why not right now?” He got up on his elbows and looked deep into her eyes. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

  Did she know that? Had her husband ever told her she was incredible? They’d been in love once upon a time—she’d known that much for sure. When she’d become pregnant,
she’d been happier than she’d ever been, but months later things had changed.

  Her hand brushed over her abdomen, imagining the fallopian tubes she’d had tied off. She was safe. She’d never get pregnant again.

  Phil’s mouth pressed gently against her jaw. He glanced into her eyes again, as if he’d seen her secret fleeting thoughts. The next kiss he delivered was warm and caring. The tender gesture nearly split her heart.

  She kissed him back, ragged and hard, her fingers digging into that glorious hair. If she was having a fling with Phil, she couldn’t allow emotions or any feelings beyond passion and excitement to get in the way.

  Sunday, after making her breakfast in bed—Phil had been breakfast—he talked her into hitting the beach for a game of volleyball.

  She couldn’t help but grin at the invitation. Surfing may be his turf, but volleyball was definitely hers. After a few warm-up shots, they thwopped the ball back and forth across the net. Her toes dug into the sand, the fresh sea breeze making her skin feel as vibrant and warm as Phil’s touch had the night before, as warm as the sun heating her scalp and shoulders. Phil popped a ball off his fingertips, and out of reflex she spiked it over the net, hitting him smack between the eyes. Shock quaked through her body as she rushed to him.

  He rubbed his nose, looking dazed. “Great shot, Bennett!”

  After she made sure he was okay, the surprised look on his face set her off laughing. She crumpled to her knees, overcome with the giggles.

  He swooped her up into his arms and ran toward the water. Weak with laughter, she didn’t protest, until he ran knee-deep into a wave and tossed her into the chilly ocean. Her scream was cut short by salt water. Once she regained her bearings, she chased Phil toward the beach and made a poor excuse for a tackle, only managing to grab his ankles and falling flat.

  This carefree feeling felt as foreign as having that ocean, crashing and constant, in Palm Desert. She welcomed the new sensation, breathing deeper and feeling more vital than she had in years.

  He broke away from her grasp and sat back on his ankles, grinning. His high-pitched laugh and corny smile egged her on. She crawled toward him and threw her arms around his neck then planted a wet and salty kiss on his mouth. Though clumsy at first, the kiss soon turned passionate, his hands wandering, holding her as if he never wanted to let go. With their lips smashing and tongues mingling, she thought how close to heaven it felt being here on the beach with Phil. How he managed to wipe away her worries with a single heart-stopping kiss.

  As they rolled around, their kisses became invaded by sand, and soon her sexy moment turned to awareness that every crease and crevice of her body was sticky with beach grit. And after he’d made the same discovery, they lay side by side, flat on their backs, laughing together.

  It seemed the playboy of Santa Barbara had resuscitated her life. Yeah, to use his own words, their fling was just what the doctor had ordered.

  After he’d taken her to the hotel to shower and clean up, they went to lunch at the yacht club. During a long walk along the seashore, Phil invited her to his house again. The memory of being lost in his body, oblivious to her thoughts, lured her back to his bed.

  Though anything but rehearsed, their lovemaking became more familiar. They’d explored each other’s bodies with abandon, and she’d delighted in discovering his sensitive spots. She loved the texture of his skin, so many shades darker than her own. The ease with which he responded to her touch made her smile. She felt as though she could weave magic with him, especially when he was deep inside her, expertly guiding her to her final release.

  Sex with Phil was nothing short of enchanting, and she hoped to stay under the spell for as long as she stayed in Santa Barbara.

  Once completely sated, she flopped limply on top of him, and lifted her hair from her hot and sticky shoulders.

  He blew lightly on her neck. “Stay with me tonight.”

  Reality checked back in. “I can’t. I’ve got to be well rested for the conization tomorrow morning.”

  “Come back tomorrow night, then,” he murmured, his hand playing with tendrils of her hair.

  “I thought you were a love-’em-and leave-’em kind of guy?” Her true thought about his reputation had tumbled out before she could censure it.

  In one quick move, he grabbed her and flopped her onto her back. Settling himself between her thighs, he gazed confidently into her face. “I’m just getting started with you.”

  It wasn’t the most romantic thing she’d ever heard, yet, as he nibbled her earlobe, it thrilled her just the same. He hadn’t grown tired of her yet, and, heaven knew, she wasn’t even close to getting bored with him. Couldn’t imagine it. Yet she wasn’t as easily lured into his spell this time. Her mind wandered.

  As life and her job wedged into her thoughts, she switched to the practical side of her life, and pragmatic words followed. “How does it work with you? How do you know when it’s time to move on?”

  The leftover fairy dust from their heated sex vanished.

  He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “Where’d that come from?”

  “I’m curious. That’s all.”

  He rose up onto one elbow. “I’m not nearly as callous as my reputation.”

  “I didn’t call you callous. All I did was ask how you know when a ‘fling’ is over.”

  He took her hand and kissed her fingers, cleverly diverting her attention. “Let’s just say I’m nowhere near that with you.”

  The perfect answer from a master. He was a playboy after all, and she couldn’t forget it.

  Stephanie saw so much potential with Phil, yet he seemed a man of contradictions. Regardless of his stereotypical-playboy dating pattern, he lived in a house perfect for a family. He liked to dawdle in the kitchen, and garden! And when push came to shove about looking after his kid brother, he’d proved himself worthy. Phil was full of potential. Not that she was looking for anyone. No. Not that he’d ever consider her for more than a few nights of great sex.

  She glanced at him, as if seeing for the first time the truth of their bond. They had nowhere to go but here, his bed. She was thankful for him forcing her out of her shell, but reality had a mean spirit and it had just smacked her in the face.

  Phil took her hand and kissed her fingertips.

  How long would she be able to overlook his playboy ways? Would it tear her heart out when he lost interest and moved on? Would he have the courtesy to wait until she’d moved back to Palm Desert? He’d been evasive when she’d questioned him.

  She glanced into his unwavering eyes. He smiled at her, but she couldn’t return it, wondering instead if anyone would ever be able to tame him. These were not the thoughts of a woman having a fling. She shouldn’t be concerned with them. Yet she was.

  She fought off a wave of regret, refusing to let it blemish their fantastic weekend. Then with a sudden need to retreat back to her protective shell, to hide behind the medical profession, she kissed his forehead.

  “I’ve got a big day tomorrow.” With nothing further to say, she slipped out from under the sheets, gathered her clothes strewn across the floor and bedroom love seat, and padded toward the bathroom.

  “I’ll let myself out,” she said.

  Chapter Eight

  PHIL rubbed his temples and squinted. What in the hell had just happened? He and Stephanie had had great sex over the weekend, he’d enjoyed every minute he’d spent with her, then whammo! She’d slipped back into stranger mode.

  He sat at the bedside and gulped down a glass of water. His head pounded behind his temples. Sex was supposed to release endorphins, and they were supposed to make a guy feel great. And they had…until she’d withdrawn.

  He thought of Stephanie wrapped in his arms one minute and gone the next. He wasn’t sure what he wanted with her beyond what they already had—great fun, great sex, good times—but then what? She’d leave for the desert.

  Buck naked, he paced the length of his bedroom. Give her a day to her
self. Bring her lunch. Invite her for Chinese food after work another night. No pressure. He’d do what he did best—charm the hell out of a woman.

  And though it would be hard, he’d keep his hands to himself, because he didn’t want to lose what little ground he’d gained with her.

  The Christmas lights parade was on Saturday, and he hoped she’d be there. If the magic of Christmas couldn’t break down the last of her barriers, nothing would.

  He stopped in midpace and stared at his feet. Stephanie had given him the perfect opportunity to let another relationship slip away. Letting a woman loose had never bothered him. Over the years he’d learned new and creative ways to let his lady friends down gently. He’d buy them an expensive bracelet or necklace, tell them they deserved so much better than him. Yeah, he’d even stooped so low as to use his “busy career” as an excuse. And if he saw that special twinkle in the lady’s eyes, he’d announce that he never wanted to be a father, even though in reality his own father meant the world to him.

  There were always other women out there. But this time around he wanted Stephanie. Hell, he liked her. A lot. He thought about her lilting laugh when they playfully wrestled on his bed. Up close and personal, those tiny freckles bridging her nose turned him on more than he cared to admit. And her skin. Damn, she felt like velvet under his gardener’s calluses. And she was a fantastic doctor. Everyone at the clinic had commented, now that she’d started mixing with them, on how well she fit in. Truth was, he liked the whole Stephanie Bennett package.

  Complete silence echoed off the walls and drowned out his thoughts. He had to admit that at times like this he missed the thudding of Robbie’s pudgy feet, and he definitely missed Stephanie Bennett in his bed.

  Was this foreign feeling loneliness?

  Maybe it was time to get a dog. In the meantime, he’d see if a football game was on TV.