One Night Before Christmas. Robyn Grady

room, Teddy was asleep on Leo’s chest, and Leo’s eyes were closed, as well. She lingered for a moment in the doorway, enjoying the picture they made. The big, strong man and the tiny, defenseless baby.

      Her chest hurt. She rubbed it absently, wondering if she would always grieve for what she had lost. Sequestering herself like a nun the past few years had given her a sort of numb peace. But that peace was an illusion, because it was the product of not living.

      Living hurt. If Phoebe were ever going to rejoin the human race, she would have to accept being vulnerable. The thought was terrifying. The flip side of great love and joy was immense pain. She wasn’t sure the first was worth risking the prospect of the last.

      Quietly she approached the sofa and laid a hand on Leo’s arm. His eyes opened at once as if he had perhaps only been lost in thought rather than dozing. She held out her arms for the baby, but Leo shook his head.

      “Show me where to take him,” he whispered. “No point in waking him up.”

      She led the way through her bedroom and bathroom to a much smaller bedroom that adjoined on the opposite side. Before Teddy’s arrival she had used this space as a junk room, filled with the things she was too dispirited to sort through when she’d moved in.

      Now it had been tamed somewhat, so that half the room was full of neatly stacked plastic tubs, while the other half had been quickly transformed into a comfy space for Teddy. A baby bed, rocking chair and changing table, all with matching prints, made an appealing, albeit temporary, nursery.

      Leo bent over the crib and laid Teddy gently on his back. The little boy immediately rolled to his side and stuck a thumb in his mouth. Both adults smiled. Phoebe clicked on the monitor and motioned for Leo to follow her as they tiptoed out.

      In the living room, she waved an arm. “Relax. Do whatever you like. There’s plenty of wood if you feel up to building us a fire.”

      “I told you. I’m not sick.”

      The terse words had a bite to them. Phoebe flinched inwardly, but kept her composure. Something had happened to Leo. Something serious. Cancer maybe. But she was not privy to that information. So conversation regarding the subject was akin to navigating a minefield.

      Most men were terrible patients. Usually because their health and vigor were tied to their self-esteem. Clearly, Leo had been sent here or had agreed to come here because he needed rest and relaxation. He didn’t want Phoebe hovering or commenting on his situation. Okay. Fine. But she was still going to keep an eye on him, because whatever had given him a wallop was serious enough to warrant a two-month hiatus from work.

      That in itself was telling. In her past life, she had interacted with lots of men like Leo. They were alpha animals, content only with the number one spot in the pack. Their work was their life. And even if they married, familial relationships were kept in neatly separated boxes.

      Unfortunately for Phoebe, she possessed some of those same killer instincts...or she had. The adrenaline rush of an impossible-to-pull-off business deal was addictive. The more you succeeded, the more you wanted to try again. Being around Leo was going to be difficult, because like a recovering alcoholic who avoided other drinkers, she was in danger of being sucked into his life, his work issues, whatever made him tick.

      Under no circumstances could she let herself be dragged back into that frenzied schedule. The world was a big, beautiful place. She had enough money tucked away to live simply for a very long time. She had lost herself in the drive to achieve success. It was better now to accept her new lifestyle.

      Leo moved to the fireplace and began stacking kindling and firewood with the precision of an Eagle Scout. Phoebe busied herself in the kitchen making a pot of chili to go with sandwiches for their lunch. Finally, she broke the awkward silence. “I have a young woman who babysits for me when I have to be gone for a short time. It occurred to me that I could see if she is free and if so, she could stay here in the house and watch Teddy while you and I do an initial damage assessment on the other cabin.”

      Leo paused to look over his shoulder, one foot propped on the raised hearth. “You sound very businesslike about this.”

      She shrugged. “I used to work for a big company. I’m accustomed to tackling difficult tasks.”

      He lit the kindling, stood back to see if it would catch, and then replaced the fire screen, brushing his hands together to remove the soot. “Where did you work?”

      Biting her lip, she berated herself inwardly for bringing up a subject she would rather not pursue. “I was a stockbroker for a firm in Charlotte, North Carolina.”

      “Did they go under? Is that why you’re here?”

      His was a fair assumption. But wrong. “The business survived the economic collapse and is expanding by leaps and bounds.”

      “Which doesn’t really answer my question.”

      She grimaced. “Maybe when we’ve known each other for more than a nanosecond I might share the gory details. But not today.”

      * * *

      Leo understood her reluctance, or he thought he did. Not everyone wanted to talk about his or her failures. And rational or not, he regarded his heart attack as a failure. He wasn’t overweight. He didn’t smoke. Truth be told, his vices were few, perhaps only one. He was type A to the max. And type A personalities lived with stress so continuously that the condition became second nature. According to his doctor, no amount of exercise or healthy eating could compensate for an inability to unwind.

      So maybe Leo was screwed.

      He joined his hostess in the kitchen, looking for any excuse to get closer to her. “Something smells good.” Smooth, Leo. Real smooth.

      Last night he had dreamed about Phoebe’s braid. But today...wow. Who knew within that old-fashioned hairstyle was a shiny waterfall the color of midnight?

      Phoebe adjusted the heat on the stove top and turned to face him. “I didn’t ask. Do you have any dietary restrictions? Any allergies?”

      Leo frowned. “I don’t expect you to cook for me all the time I’m here. You claimed that civilization is close by. Why don’t I take you out now and then?”

      She shot him a pitying look that said he was clueless. “Clearly you’ve never tried eating at a restaurant with an infant. It’s ridiculously loud, not to mention that the chaos means tipping the server at least thirty percent to compensate for the rice cereal all over the floor.” She eyed his sweater. “I doubt you would enjoy it.”

      “I know kids are messy.” He’d eaten out with Luc and Hattie and the babies a time or two. Hadn’t he? Or come to think of it, maybe it was always at their home. “Well, not that then, but I could at least pick up a pizza once a week.”

      Phoebe smiled at him sweetly. “That would be lovely. Thank you, Leo.”

      Her genuine pleasure made him want to do all sorts of things for her...and to her. Something about that radiant smile twisted his insides in a knot. The unmistakable jolt of attraction was perhaps inevitable. They were two healthy adults who were going to be living in close proximity for eight or nine weeks. They were bound to notice each other sexually.

      He cleared his throat as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Is there a boyfriend who won’t like me staying here?”

      Again, that faint, fleeting shadow that dimmed her beauty for a moment. “No. You’re safe.” She shook her head, giving him a rueful smile. “I probably should say yes, though. Just so you don’t get any ideas.”

      He tried to look innocent. “What ideas?” All joking aside, he was a little worried about having sex for the first time since... Oh, hell. He had a hard time even saying it in his head. Heart attack. There. He wasn’t afraid of two stupid words.

      The doctor had said no restrictions, but the doctor hadn’t seen Phoebe Kemper in a snug crimson sweater. She reminded Leo of a cross between Wonder Woman and Pocahontas. Both of whom he’d