One Night Before Christmas. Robyn Grady

about last night. “I won’t apologize for having money,” he said quietly. “I work very hard.”

      “Is it really that important to stay plugged in? Can’t you go cold turkey for two months?” Phoebe was pale. She looked at him as if she would put him on the first plane out if she could.

      How had they become combatants? He stared at her until her cheeks flushed and she looked away. “Technology and business are not demons,” he said. “We live in the information age.”

      “And what about your recovery?”

      “What about it?”

      “I got the impression that you were supposed to stay away from business in order to rest and recuperate.”

      “I can do that and still have access to the world.”

      She took a step in his direction. “Can you? Can you really? Because from where I’m standing, you look like a guy who is determined to get what he wants when he wants it. Your doctor may have given you orders. Your brother may have, as well. But I doubt you respect them enough to really do what they’ve asked.”

      Her harsh assessment hit a little too close to home. “I’m following doctor’s orders, I swear. Though it’s really none of your business.” The defensive note in his voice made him cringe inwardly. Was he honestly the ass she described?

      “Do what you have to do,” she said, pulling her phone from her pocket and handing it to him. Her expression was a mix of disappointment and resignation. “But I would caution you to think long and hard about the people who love you. And why it is that you’re here.”

      At that moment, Leo saw a large delivery truck pull up in front of the cabin. Good, his surprise had arrived. Maybe it would win him some brownie points with Phoebe. And deflect her from the uncomfortable subject of his recuperation.

      She went to the door as the bell rang. “But I didn’t order anything,” she protested when the man in brown set a large box just inside the door.

      “Please sign here, ma’am,” he said patiently.

      The door slammed and Phoebe stared down at the box as if it possibly contained dynamite.

      “Open it,” Leo said.

      * * *

      Phoebe couldn’t help being a little anxious when she tore into the package. It didn’t have foreign postage, so it was not from her sister. She pulled back the cardboard flaps and stared in amazement. The box was full of food—an expensive ham, casseroles preserved in freezer packs, desserts, fresh fruit, the list was endless.

      She turned to look at Leo, who now lay sprawled on the sofa. “Did you do this?”

      He shrugged, his arms outstretched along the back of the couch. “Before I lost my temper yesterday about my work email, I scrolled through my personal messages and decided to contact a good buddy of mine, a cordon bleu chef in Atlanta who owes me a favor. I felt bad about you agreeing to cook for me all the time, so I asked him to hook us up with some meals. He’s going to send a box once a week.”

      Her mind reeled. Not only was this a beautifully thoughtful gesture, it was also incredibly expensive. She stared at the contents, feeling her dismal mood slip away. A man like Leo would be a lovely companion for the following two months, even if all he wanted from her was friendship.

      Before she could lose her nerve, she crossed the room, leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. His look of shock made her face heat. “Don’t worry,” she said wryly. “That was completely platonic. I merely wanted to say thank-you for a lovely gift.”

      He grasped her wrist, his warm touch sending ripples of heat all the way up her arm. “You’re welcome, Phoebe. But of course, it’s partially a selfish thing. I get to enjoy the bounty, as well.” His smile could charm the birds off the trees. In repose, Leo’s rugged features seemed austere, even intimidating. But when he smiled, the force of his charisma increased exponentially.

      Feeling something inside her soul ease at the cessation of hostilities, she returned the smile, though she pulled away and put a safe distance between them. It was no use being embarrassed or awkward around Leo. She wasn’t so heartless as to throw him out, and truthfully, she didn’t want to. Teddy was a sweetheart, but having another adult in the house was a different kind of stimulation.

      Suddenly, she remembered what she had wanted to ask Leo before last night when everything ended so poorly. “Tell me,” she said. “Would you object to having Christmas decorations in the house?”

      “That’s a strange segue, but why would I object?” he asked. “I’m not a Scrooge.”

      “I never thought you were, but you might have ethnic or religious reasons to abstain.”

      “No problems on either score,” he chuckled. “Does this involve a shopping trip?”

      “No. Actually, I have boxes and boxes of stuff in the attic. When I moved here, I wasn’t in the mood to celebrate. Now, with Teddy in the house, it doesn’t seem right to ignore the holiday. I wasn’t able to take it all down on my own. Do you mind helping? I warn you...it’s a lot of stuff.”

      “Including a tree?”

      She smiled beseechingly. “My old one is artificial, and not all that pretty. I thought it might be fun to find one in the woods.”

      “Seriously?”

      “Well, of course. I own thirty acres. Surely we can discover something appropriate.”

      He lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “We?”

      “Yes, we. Don’t be so suspicious. I’m not sending you out in the cold all on your own. I have one of those baby carrier things. Teddy and I will go with you. Besides, I don’t think men are the best judge when it comes to locating the perfect tree.”

      “You wound me,” he said, standing and clutching his chest. “I have excellent taste.”

      “This cabin has space limitations to consider. And admit it. Men always think bigger is better.”

      “So do women as a rule.”

      His naughty double entendre was delivered with a straight face, but his eyes danced with mischief. Phoebe knew her cheeks had turned bright red. She felt the heat. “Are we still talking about Christmas trees?” she asked, her throat dry as the Sahara.

      “You tell me.”

      “I think you made yourself pretty clear last night,” she snapped.

      He looked abashed. “I never should have let things go that far. We need to take baby steps, Phoebe. Forced proximity makes for a certain intimacy, but I respect you too much to take advantage of that.”

      “And if I take advantage of you?”

      She was appalled to hear the words leave her mouth. Apparently her libido trumped both her pride and her common sense.

      Leo’s brows drew together in a scowl. He folded his arms across his broad chest. With his legs braced in a fighting stance, he suddenly seemed far more dangerous. Today he had on old jeans and a cream wool fisherman’s sweater.

      Everything about him from his head to his toes screamed wealth and privilege. So why hadn’t he chosen some exclusive resort for his sabbatical? A place with tennis courts and spas and golf courses?

      He still hadn’t answered her question. The arousal swirling in her belly congealed into a small knot of embarrassment. Did he get some kind of sadistic kick out of flirting with women and then shutting them down?

      “Never mind,” she said, the words tight. “I understand.”

      He strode toward her, his face a thundercloud. “You don’t understand a single damn thing,” he said roughly. Before she could protest or back up or initiate any other of a dozen protective moves, he dragged her to his chest, wrapped one arm around her back and used his free hand to anchor