He nodded, the memory bleak even after all this time. “Grandfather insisted on having autopsies done. My mother wasn’t wearing a life jacket. She drowned when she was flung into the water. I took comfort in the fact that she was probably unconscious when she died, because she had a severe head wound.”
“And your father?”
Leo swallowed. “He had a heart attack. That’s what caused him to lose control of the boat.” Repeating the words stirred something dark and ugly in his gut. To know that he was his father’s son had never pained him more than in the past few months.
Phoebe put a hand on his arm. “But wasn’t he awfully young?”
“Forty-one.”
“Oh, Leo. I’m so very sorry.”
He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. After the funerals, Grandfather took Luc and I back to Italy to live with him. He insisted we attend college in Rome. Some would say we were lucky to have had such an education, but we were miserable for a long time. Our grief was twofold, of course. On top of that, Grandfather is not an easy man to love.” He hesitated for a moment. “I don’t tell many people that story, but you understand what it feels like to have the rug ripped out from under your feet.”
“I do indeed. My parents were wonderful people. They always encouraged Dana and me to go for any goal we wanted. Never any question of it being too hard or not a girl thing. Losing them changed our lives.”
Silence fell like a pall. Leo tugged at her braid. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to take us down such a dismal path.”
She rested her head against his hand. “It’s hard not to think of family at this time of year, especially the ones we’ve lost. I’m glad you’re here, Leo.”
She wasn’t sure who initiated the intimate contact. Their lips met briefly, sweetly. The taste of him was as warm and comfortable as a summer rain. She felt the erotic river of molten lava hidden just beneath the surface, but as if by unspoken consent, the kiss remained soft and easy.
Leaning into him, she let herself be bolstered by his strength. One big arm supported her back. He was virile and sexy. She couldn’t be blamed for wanting more. “Leo,” she muttered.
All she said was his name, but she felt the shudder that ran through him. “What?” he asked hoarsely. “What, Phoebe?”
A million different answers hovered at the tip of her tongue.
Undress me. Touch my bare skin. Make love to me. Instead, she managed to be sensible. “Let me put some music on to get us in the mood for decorating.”
“I am in the mood,” he grumbled. But he smiled when he said it and kissed the tip of her nose. Then he sobered. “To be absolutely clear, I want you in my bed, tonight, Phoebe. When the little man is sound asleep and not likely to interrupt us.”
His eyes were dark chocolate, sinful and rich and designed to make a woman melt into their depths. She stared at him, weighing the risks. As a financial speculator, she played hunches and often came out on top. But taking Leo as a lover was infinitely more dangerous.
He was here only for a short while. And though Phoebe had made peace with her demons and embraced her new lifestyle, she was under no illusions that Leo had done the same. He was anxious to return home. Coming to the mountains had been some sort of penance for him, a healing ritual that he accepted under protest.
Leo would never be content to stagnate. He had too much energy, too much life.
She touched his cheek, knowing that her acquiescence was a forgone conclusion. “Yes. I’d like that, too. And I’m sorry that we can’t be more spontaneous. A new relationship should be hot and crazy and passionate.” Like this morning when you nearly took me standing up. Her pulse tripped and stumbled as her thighs tightened in remembrance.
Leo cupped her hand to his face with one big palm. “It will be, Phoebe, darlin’. Don’t you worry about that.”
* * *
To Phoebe’s surprise and delight, the afternoon became one long, drawn-out session of foreplay. Leo built a fire so high and hot they both had to change into T-shirts to keep cool. Phoebe found a radio station that played classic Christmas songs. She teased Leo unmercifully when she realized he never remembered any of the second verses, and instead made up his own words.
Together, they dug out a collection of balsam-scented candles, lit them and set them on the coffee table. During the summer, the trapped heat in the attic had melted the wax a bit, so the ones that were supposed to be Christmas trees looked more like drunken bushes.
Phoebe laughed. “Perhaps I should just throw them away.”
Leo shook his head. “Don’t do that. They have character.”
“If you say so.” She leaned down and squinted at them. “They look damaged to me. Beyond repair.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
Something in his voice—an odd note—caught her attention. He was staring at the poor trees as if all the answers to life’s great questions lay trapped in green wax.
What did Leo Cavallo know about being damaged? As far as Phoebe could see, he was at the peak of his physical strength and mental acuity. Sleek muscles whispered of his ability to hold a woman...to protect her. And in a contest of wits, she would need to stay on her toes to best him. Intelligence crackled in his eyes and in his repartee.
Leo was the whole package, and Phoebe wanted it all.
Gradually, the room was transformed. With Leo’s assistance, Phoebe hung garland from the mantel and around the doorways, intertwining it with tiny white lights that sparkled and danced even in the daytime. She would have preferred fresh greenery. But with a baby to care for and a cabin to repair, she had to accept her limits.
Leo spent over an hour tacking silver, green and gold snowflakes to the ceiling. Far more meticulous than she would have been, he measured and arranged them until every glittering scrap of foil was perfectly placed. The masculine satisfaction on his face as he stood, neck craned, and surveyed his handiwork amused her, but she was quick to offer the appropriate accolades.
In addition to the misshapen candles, the coffee table now sported a red wool runner appliquéd in reindeer. The Merry Christmas rug she remembered from her home in Charlotte now lay in front of a new door. The kitchen table boasted dark green place mats and settings of Christmas china.
At long last, Leo flopped down on the sofa with a groan. “You really like Christmas, don’t you?”
She joined him, curling into his embrace as naturally as if they were old friends. “I lost the spirit for a few years, but with Teddy here, this time I think it will be pretty magical.” Weighing her words, she finally asked the question she had been dying to have him answer. “What about you, Leo? Your sister-in-law made your reservation for two months. But you’ll go home for the holidays, won’t you?”
Playing lazily with the ends of her braid, he sighed. “I hadn’t really thought about it. Many times in the past six or eight years, Luc and I flew to Italy to be with Grandfather for Christmas. But when Luc and Hattie married the year before last, Grandfather actually came over here, though he swore it wouldn’t be an annual thing, because the trip wore him out. Now, with two little ones, I think Luc and Hattie deserve their own family Christmas.”
“And what about you?”
Leo shrugged. “I’ll have an invitation or two, I’m sure.”
“You could stay here with Teddy and me.” Only when she said the words aloud did she realize how desperately she wanted him to say yes.
He