Teddy was her nephew, true. But he was on loan, so to speak. She could feed him and play with him and love him, but at the end of the day, he wasn’t hers. Still, what could it hurt to pretend for a while?
She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. Ordinarily, she would have lain down on her stomach and played with Teddy at his level. But getting horizontal with Leo Cavallo was not smart, especially since he was in touching distance. She’d give herself away, no doubt. Even with a baby between them, she couldn’t help thinking how nice it would be to spend an unencumbered hour with her new houseguest.
Some soft music on the radio, another bottle of wine, more logs on the fire. And after that...
Her heartbeat stuttered and stumbled. Dampness gathered at the back of her neck and in another, less accessible spot. Her breathing grew shallow. She stared at Teddy blindly, anything to avoid looking at Leo. Not for the world would she want him to think she was so desperate for male company that she would fall at his feet.
Even as she imagined such a scenario, he rolled to his back and slung an arm across his face. Moments later, she saw the steady rise and fall of his chest as he gave in to sleep.
Teddy was headed in the same direction. His acrobatics had worn him out. He slumped onto his face, butt in the air, and slept.
Phoebe watched the two males with a tightness in her chest that was a combination of so many things. Yearning for what might have been. Fear of what was yet to come. Hope that somewhere along the way she could have a family of her own.
Her sleepless night caught up with her, making her eyelids droop. With one wary look at Leo to make sure he was asleep, she eased down beside her two companions and curled on her side with Teddy in the curve of her body. Now she could smell warm baby and wood smoke, and perhaps the faint scent of Leo’s aftershave.
Closing her eyes, she sighed deeply. She would rest for a moment....
Leo awoke disoriented. His bed felt rock-hard, and his pillow had fallen on the floor. Gradually, he remembered where he was. Turning his head, he took in the sight of Phoebe and Teddy sleeping peacefully beside him.
The baby was the picture of innocence, but Phoebe... He sucked in a breath. Her position, curled on her side, made the neckline of her sweater gape, treating him to an intimate view of rounded breasts and creamy skin. Her hair tumbled around her face as if she had just awakened from a night of energetic sex. All he had to do was extend his arm and he could stroke her belly beneath the edge of her top.
His sex hardened to the point of discomfort. He didn’t know whether to thank God for the presence of the kid or to curse the bad timing. The strength of his desire was both surprising and worrisome. Was he reacting so strongly to Phoebe because he was in exile and she was the only woman around, or had his long bout of celibacy predisposed him to want her?
Either way, his hunger for her was suspect. It would be the height of selfishness to seduce her because of boredom or propinquity. Already, he had taken her measure. She was loving, generous and kind, though by no means a pushover. Even with training in what some would call a nonfeminine field, she nevertheless seemed completely comfortable with the more traditional roles of childcare and homemaking.
Phoebe was complicated. That, more than anything else, attracted him. At the moment a tiny frown line marked the space between her brows. He wanted to erase it with a kiss. The faint shadowy smudges beneath her eyes spoke of her exhaustion. He had been around his brother and sister-in-law enough to know that dealing with infants was harrowing and draining on the best of days.
He also knew that they glowed with pride when it came to their children, and he could see in Phoebe the same self-sacrificial love. Even now, in sleep, her arms surrounded little Teddy, keeping him close though he was unaware.
Moving carefully so as not to wake them, he rolled to his feet and quietly removed the screen so he could add wood to the smoldering fire. For insurance, he tossed another handful of kindling into the mix and blew on it gently. Small flames danced and writhed as he took a medium-size log and positioned it across the coals.
The simple task rocked him in an indefinable way. How often did he pause in his daily schedule to enjoy something as elemental and magical as an honest-to-God wood fire? The elegant gas logs in his condo were nothing in comparison.
As he stared into the hearth, the temperature built. His skin burned, and yet he couldn’t move away. Phoebe seemed to him more like this real fire than any woman he had been with in recent memory. Energetic...messy...mesmerizing. Producing a heat that warmed him down to his bones.
Most of his liaisons in Atlanta were brief. He spent an enormous amount of time, perhaps more than was warranted, growing and protecting the Cavallo bottom line. Sex was good and a necessary part of his life. But he had never been tempted to do what it took to keep a woman in his bed night after night.
Kneeling, he turned and looked at Phoebe. Should he wake her up? Did the baby need to be put to bed?
Uncharacteristically uncertain, he deferred a decision. Snagging a pillow from the sofa, he leaned back against the stone hearth, stretched out his legs and watched them sleep.
* * *
Phoebe awoke slowly, but in no way befuddled. Her situation was crystal clear. Like a coward, she kept her eyes closed, even though she knew Leo was watching her. Apparently, her possum act didn’t fool him. He touched her foot with his. “Open your eyes, Phoebe.”
She felt at a distinct disadvantage. There was no graceful way to get up with him so close. Sighing, she obeyed his command and stared at him with as much chutzpah as she could muster. Rolling onto her back, she tucked her hands behind her head. “Have I brought a voyeur into my home?” she asked with a tart bite in her voice. It would do no good to let him see how much he affected her.
Leo yawned and stretched, his eyes heavy-lidded. “It’s not my fault you had too much wine at dinner.”
“I did not,” she said indignantly. “I’m just tired, because the baby—”
“Gotcha,” he said smugly, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
She sat up and ran her hands through her hair, crossing her legs but being careful not to bump Teddy. “Very funny. How long was I out?”
He shrugged. “Not long.” His hot stare told her more clearly than words what he was thinking. They had rocketed from acquaintances to sleeping partners at warp speed. It was going to be difficult to pretend otherwise.
Her breasts ached and her mouth was dry. Sexual tension shimmered between them like unseen vines drawing them ever closer. The only thing keeping them apart was a baby.
A baby who was her responsibility. That reality drew her back from the edge, though the decision to be clearheaded was a painful one. “I think we’ll say good-night,” she muttered. “Feel free to stay up as long as you like. But please bank the fire before you go to bed.”
His gaze never faltered as she scooped up Teddy and gathered his things. “We have to talk about this,” he said, the blunt words a challenge.
It took a lot, but she managed to look him straight in the eyes with a calm smile. “I don’t know what you mean. Good night, Leo.”
* * *
At two o’clock, he gave up the fight to sleep. He was wired, and his body pulsed with arousal, his sex full and hard. Neither of which condition was conducive to slumber. The New York Times bestseller he had opened failed to hold his attention past the first chapter. Cursing as he climbed out of his warm bed to pace the floor, he stopped suddenly and listened.
Faintly, but distinctly, he heard a baby cry.
It was all the excuse he needed. Throwing a thin, gray wool robe over his navy silk sleep pants,