Playboys' Christmas Surprises: A Christmas Baby Surprise. Catherine Mann

that will be our wedding memory.”

      Her eyes went whimsical, a smile pushing dimples into her cheeks. “I would want to get married at a museum, or some historic site on the grounds, but with a preacher there.”

      Porter nodded to encourage her. “What else?”

      “I think I would want a vintage gown and you in an old-school tuxedo, tails perhaps. And if I could dream big—sky’s the limit—I would want flowers, so many flowers, all different colors. Southern flowers, magnolias and azaleas, too.”

      A long sigh escaped her lips, and she turned in her seat to face him.

      “And the reception?”

      “A band, so people could enjoy themselves. A buffet meal so people could eat or dance or talk, whatever they wish. I would want there to be children there, activities and a tent where they could play, sitters on hand. How does all of that sound?”

      “Very close to the wedding we planned.” He took her hand in his and ran his thumb over her silk-smooth palm.

      “Planned?”

      He shrugged. “My mother put in her two cents, your friends put in theirs. Weddings get complicated and we both let them have their way to get things moving so we could start our life together. To be truthful, I just remember you and how beautiful you looked and how damn lucky I was to have convinced you to marry me.”

      More memories hit him, about how later she’d come to resent not having stood her ground to have the wedding of her dreams. Her insistence that her style and wishes got pushed aside by his mother and wedding planners.

      She inched toward him on the bench, resting a hand on his knee. Her touch made his blood surge hot beneath his skin. Damn. He wanted to take her in his arms. Wanted to taste her kiss. To taste her—over and over until they both stopped thinking and remembering.

      “That’s lovely, what you just said and the way you described the feelings. I wish I recalled even a part of that.” The murmur leaped from her lips as her eyes searched his face. There was intrigue there, sure. Attraction, definitely.

      “You will. Someday.”

      Another deep sigh. “And if I don’t?”

      “Then we’ll keep taking things a day at a time and looking to the future. Marriage isn’t perfect, Alaina. You’ve forgotten the arguments and disagreements, too. So perhaps it’s a trade-off, getting to start over with a clean slate.”

      Alaina shook her head, but didn’t pull away. Her fingers continued to trace light circles on his knee. “Amnesia is a horrible illness, not some trade-off. I would gratefully welcome one bad memory now from those years, just to open the door. To see our life together.”

      “What if that one memory made you stop loving me because you couldn’t recall the rest?”

      He wanted this fresh start for their family so badly. He needed it down to his core. And he was afraid that if she recalled any of the past year, she’d pack up and be out of his life the way she’d intended to do before the accident.

      “I don’t mean to be harsh, but I can’t remember falling in love with you. So how is that a point?”

      He threw her a playful wink. “I guess I’ll just have to help you fall in love with me again.”

      She didn’t smile back, her gaze narrowing with intensity. “So do you still love me?”

      “Of course I do,” he said automatically because that’s what she needed to hear.

      But from the look in her eyes, he could tell that on some level, behind the amnesia, she sensed the truth.

      This wasn’t about loving or not loving each other. After all, they hadn’t spoken those words to each other in over a year. This second chance was about finally building the family he’d always wanted and doing whatever it took to make that happen.

      * * *

      Alaina leaned against the door frame of Porter’s home office, making the most of the moment to study him unobserved. Much like as he’d watched her last night in the nursery. She’d been more moved by the way he’d looked at her, almost as if he was thinking the words he never spoke. Words about loving her.

      Why was it so important to hear that from him when she didn’t know how she felt about him? When she couldn’t remember meeting him, marrying him—falling for him? And some men weren’t overly demonstrative.

      What about him?

      She searched for clues as she watched him work at his computer, seated behind an oversize desk. He wore casual clothes, jeans and a polo shirt, his watch the only cue to his wealth. She liked that about him, how if she’d met him on the street she wouldn’t have guessed he had all these houses—and a closet as big as some apartments.

      She also liked the artwork on the wall behind him. Nice choice. It fit him more than a lot of things in this elaborate vacation place. She wondered if she’d picked it out for him.

      He wore thick black-framed glasses as he typed, something she hadn’t noticed before. There was so much about him she didn’t know. So much to learn and on the one hand, some would say she had all the time in the world. But she felt an urgency to settle her life, for Thomas’s sake.

      And she couldn’t ignore how much it touched her heart to see her son snoozing in a bassinet beside Porter’s leather office chair. That he’d made arrangements to watch the baby while working spoke volumes. She could see that Porter wanted to be a good father, that he wanted to be active in his son’s upbringing. She wanted to trust her impressions of him and accept that she had an amazing life. She wanted to quit worrying about the past she couldn’t remember.

      And yet she couldn’t dismiss the sense that she should be wary of assuming everything was as it seemed.

      Porter glanced up, as if sensing her gaze. He tucked his reading glasses on top of his head, his eyes were full of awareness from their almost kiss earlier.

      Even if she couldn’t remember what they’d had, she could swear she felt all those shared kisses in their past on some level. Did he have regrets about them as a couple? Was that the unsettled feeling she sensed in him?

      Had he appreciated what they had?

      “Alaina,” he said softly, rocking back in his chair. “I’ve got this. Easy. He’s sleeping. Go relax. Take a walk on the beach. Read a book.”

      Or stay with Porter and be tempted even more? How long would she be able to resist?

      Not long.

      She backed out of the door. “Sure, thanks. I’ll have my cell phone with me. Don’t hesitate to call if you need me to come back for him. I want to be with him whenever he’s awake.”

      She’d missed so much already. Oh, God, she was going to start crying if she kept thinking about it.

      Her emotions were swinging from desire for her stranger of a husband to grief over all she’d lost. She needed to get herself under control or she would be a nervous wreck. Thomas didn’t need to have all those negative feelings around him. Maybe Porter was right about her taking time to decompress for a while.

      With determined strides she moved toward the kitchen, scarfed down some toast and tea, and contemplated the events of her past twenty-four hours.

      A whirlwind didn’t even begin to cover it.

      Glancing around the open space, she couldn’t help but feel the decor looked as if it had been directly lifted from a catalog. Everything was gorgeous—stainless steel appliances with rustic wooden accent bowls—but it all felt too...put together.

      Was this the kind of woman she had become over the past five years?

      Unable to suppress her need for more answers, Alaina began to explore the house. Their house, she reminded herself. This was supposedly all hers, too, even if it felt alien in comparison