Playboys' Christmas Surprises. Catherine Mann

Her voice hitched in her throat. Emotions pulsed. Her breathing sped up in anticipation. She couldn’t wait to pour out her emotions on the page.

      He cupped her shoulders. “I’m a pretty simple guy. I want my family to have what they want. What they need. And I thought it would be a good outlet for you. I think this is the longest you’ve ever gone without some creative project.”

      In the deepest part of her being, she was truly touched. He had been trying so hard to connect with her. To do things to make her feel more comfortable. Even if their life before the accident hadn’t been perfect, the man before her now was putting in a real effort.

      “Porter, it’s perfect. Thank you.” She grabbed his hand, beginning to feel as if she knew the texture and feel of him. He tucked her hair behind her ear.

      “Of course.”

      “Can I ask another question?”

      “Always.”

      “How did we decide on the name Thomas?” It had been her father’s name. She hoped that had been the reason, but she didn’t trust much about her instincts these days. A pang of sorrow shot through her. Her father would never know her son. She took a shaky breath. His loss felt so recent.

      Porter inched toward her. They were side by side. His shoulder brushed hers and she leaned into him. Breathed in the dark clove scent of his cologne.

      “We chose the name for your father. It wasn’t much of a discussion. I never had a father and your father sounded wonderful even if I never had the honor of meeting the guy. It seemed right. Fitting.” He wrapped his arm around her, and she buried her face in his chest. The tightness of his arm on hers ramped up her heartbeat. He was beginning to feel like someone she could talk to. Trust was still an iffy idea, but she was moved by his actions today.

      She couldn’t deny it. She was ready to take this to the next step. She craved intimacy with him. Her body ached for him, recognizing him on an instinctive level that went beyond memories.

      “I know there must have been difficulties between us. Probably a strain because of the infertility,” she began to say. She had to finish before she lost her nerve. “And probably a bunch of other things that I don’t need to know right now...but I’m glad that we are trying to become a family now. And I was wondering if you could stay the night with me. Just sleeping. Nothing else. What do you think?”

      His eyebrows shot upward. “I think I would be an idiot to say no.”

       Seven

      Alaina couldn’t believe she’d asked to share a bed with her husband. Not sex. Just sleeping.

      She stood in her bathroom, changing into the pajamas she’d chosen. Choosing them had been tough. What to wear to sleep with a man she was attracted to, but wasn’t ready to have sex with? If she wore a nightgown or a T-shirt, that would invite his hand to tunnel upward.

      If she wore something silky, then that would feel like skin, sexy. But she didn’t want to be frumpy. She couldn’t help but feel vain in wanting to look attractive for her husband. So she’d opted for colors that flattered her. A pale pink tank top, cotton but thin. And a striped pair of shorts, so yes, their legs could brush.

      Because she wanted this. Needed this, to be close to another human being. To her husband. Some part of her body knew they’d been together. Often. For a long time. There was a synchronicity in the way they moved through life that spoke of having done things together as a team, everyday things, sexual things.

      When she’d first woken up from her coma, she’d felt as if the past five years hadn’t existed. That it had only been a few months since she’d broken off her relationship with Douglas and taken out a restraining order.

      But during the week in the hospital and then the week at the beach house, she had gained a sense of distance from the past. These weeks had helped ease the initial tension that had made her feel stuck in another time.

      Had she moved beyond all those awful feelings left over from Douglas? She must have, since she’d got married. Even with her memories of the past five years gone, her sense of Douglas felt further away than when she’d first woken up in the hospital. It was as if her body was moving forward to absorb the lost time even if her brain didn’t fill in the missing pieces.

      Her past with Porter hadn’t returned, but her feelings for him were definitely growing. Strong. Real.

      Powerful.

      She looked down at her engagement ring and the wedding band. For the first time, she felt as if maybe, just maybe, they fit.

      When Porter had given her those art supplies, she’d felt connected to him. She’d been given a link to her past with those supplies in hand. It made her want to find more links to the past, make more connections. It made her want this night with her husband.

      She tugged on her pj’s, the soft cotton brushing against her breasts and sending a shiver of awareness through her.

      This wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d thought.

      Deep breath in. One foot in front of the other. She could do this.

      The bedroom was washed in warm yellow light from the oversize candle emblazoned with an anchor on the mahogany dresser. It cast flickers on the ship steering wheel that leaned from dresser to wall.

      Matchy-matchy. Maybe she would try her hand at redecorating this place. Make it feel less like a page out of a catalog and more like a home for a family always on the go. But she’d only make those decisions with Porter. Joint decisions. Like the decisions they had made earlier today with Thomas’s gifts.

      Porter slouched against the door frame, half looking at her. His black sweatpants hung low on his hips. A white T-shirt for a local Tallahassee baseball team enhanced his athletic frame. Damn, he was sexy.

      And he was hers.

      Alaina toyed with the band on her shorts. “This is a little awkward.”

      “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

      “Me, too, but I said it, and then I couldn’t take it back.”

      “You don’t have to.”

      She took a deep breath. “I think I do.” She yanked back the covers, then paused, inhaling hard. “I don’t even know what side of the bed I sleep on.”

      “You’re fine,” he said.

      “Are you saying that to be accommodating? Or is that the truth?”

      “The truth. Your instincts are right. That’s your side of the bed.”

      Something eased inside her. Maybe she needed to follow her instincts more with him.

      Alaina climbed into bed and patted the space beside her. “Okay. Join me.”

      He lay on top of the spread. “Done, as requested.”

      “And I didn’t die.”

      “Wow, now that’s a turn-on.”

      Laughing, she shoved him gently with both hands and felt the resistance in his muscles as her skin met his. He let out a low chuckle, clearly amused.

      She sagged back into the fluffy feather pillow. He reclined on his side, propping his head on his hand.

      Alaina picked at the down comforter. “What’s next? Our situation is so unconventional I don’t know what the rules are.”

      “No rules as far as I’m concerned. We’re making this up as we go.”

      Still, she wanted details, a sense of who’d they’d been. “How did we used to sleep? Did I sleep on your chest? Did we spoon? Me against you? You against me? Opposite sides of bed?”

      “Why don’t we just see where we end up?” He held