A Christmas Baby Surprise: Reclaimed by the Rancher

by Catherine Mann

  She smiled at him. “Do you think the art supplies gift made me think of that?”

  “Could be.”

  “What about being on the yacht? What will that help me remember?”

  “Honestly? Arguing. You were angry with me for buying this. You thought the money could have been better spent. But then we fought about pretty much everything then.”

  “I appreciate you being honest.”

  “I want you to trust me. You believe that, right?”

  “I do. I’m just not sure you want me to remember everything. You seem very into this fresh start. All the control is on your side since you have the pieces of the past and I only get what other people tell me.”

  He couldn’t deny the truth in that. He owed her more, better. Hell, he owed her the unvarnished truth, but couldn’t bring himself to go quite that far when they were so close to having everything they’d wanted. Time on the yacht offered them a window of time away from the world and he needed to embrace that fully.

  “Alaina, I have an idea. Let’s use this time to pretend we’re two different people. Strangers who’ve met and are stuck on this ostentatious yacht together. Strangers attracted to each other and ready to get to know each other.” He loosened the cap on the water bottle and handed it to her.

  His gaze met hers, and he could swear the air crackled with the static of a lightning strike even though there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

  She grabbed it and flashed him a grin. “I’m game.”

  * * *

  Vibrant pinks of the sunset blurred into deeper purples. The heat of the day was behind them, the cool ocean breeze nudging Alaina’s skin toward goose bumps. She ran a hand over her exposed leg, hoping to generate some warmth.

  Embers of sunlight caused the yacht to glow. While she was conscious of how expensive this outing was, she had to admit there was some charm to it all. The lulling rock of the yacht in the water. The heavy smell of salt in the air. Relaxing. Intimate. It was easy to feel as if they were the only two people in the whole world with the captain and crew dismissed for a few hours and other boats so far away.

  And in some ways, that’d been a good thing.

  But she still couldn’t help feeling slightly uneasy. He hadn’t denied wanting this fresh start, or taking the power it gave him. Even when she agreed to get to know him anew, she wondered what he really thought of her. Of all of this.

  “You look chilled.” Porter pushed his deck chair closer to hers. He had a thick blanket in his hand. It was covered in a sprawling cursive print. She squinted in the dying light to see what it said. Looked like lines from a novel. Was that a purchase she’d made?

  “I’ve definitely been warmer. That’s for sure.” Although there was heat building inside her just from looking at him, having him near. Their night sleeping together had brought a new level of intimacy to their relationship. One that made her yearn to take that to the next level.

  “Luckily for you, I come prepared.” He draped the blanket across her shoulders, his hands brushing her shoulders and sending another shiver through her.

  Definitely the electric sort of shiver born of heat not cold.

  She pulled the blanket tight, closing it around her body against the ache for contact with him. Did he want this as much as she did? What would happen afterward?

  “So generous,” she teased him, but she was grateful for his attentiveness. Even her nose was cold.

  “I don’t know about that. There is a catch, you see.” The sunset glinted in his eyes. His beard-stubbled face was serious.

  “Oh?”

  “It’s going to cost you a date, lady. And you’re going to have to share that blanket.” A mischievous twinkle danced in his dark eyes, reaching his lips.

  Butterflies filled her stomach, and her breasts tingled with increasing need. His relaxed smile sparked a fierce need for him; the new ease of being with him stirred her.

  Deeply.

  He was asking for more than a shared night in a bed and she could sense they both knew that.

  Clenching the blanket tighter in her fists, she returned his gaze steadily. “I don’t know about that. That’s a pretty tall demand.”

  Feeling bold and ready to take a risk that she prayed would pay off, she held out a side of the blanket for him to sit next to her. He filled the gaping space in an instant with his big, warm presence.

  “How ’bout a game?” he asked, gathering her closer, his hard thigh against her legs.

  “I like games.” She liked him. A lot.

  “Thought you might. I’ll ask a question. And you have to answer it. And then you can do the same to me.” He pivoted his body to face her.

  She nodded, her hair snagging on his five o’clock shadow. “I like it. But I’m going first. Worst drink you’ve ever had?”

  “Worst drink? Hmm. In college, a friend dared me to drink a bar mat—which is basically a mix of all the alcohol that spills during the night as a shot. I never made that mistake again.” He shuddered at the memory.

  “That is absolutely disgusting.” She laughed, unable to imagine him losing control in any way. “What in the world made you go along with that?”

  “Now, now, Alaina.” He nudged her shoulder gently. “You only get one question at a time. It’s my turn. If you had to be stuck in one television show for the rest of your life, which one would it be?”

  Now that was a hard one. “Well. And you keep in mind I’m working with outdated information. But I’d have to say I’d like to be stuck in Scooby-Doo. The original series. I could totally drive around in the Mystery Machine. I half wanted to be a detective when I was younger because of that show. Definitely my favorite growing up.”

  “Scooby-Doo? I would never have guessed that one. You’d have the brains of Velma and the beauty of Daphne. You would’ve been the powerhouse.” He put his arm around her back, drawing her closer to him as he leaned them down to look at the first evening stars.

  She turned to half lie on his chest, her ear pressed against the steady thud of his heart. “Ha-ha. Absolute favorite meal? Like the kind you could eat again and again and never get sick of?”

  He exhaled deeply. “You do know how to ask the tough questions. I would eat Dunkaroos for every meal. I love the frosting.”

  “Porter...really? Out of all the food in the world... Dunkaroos?” She lifted her head off his chest to stare at his face. Smile lines pushed at his cheeks as he attempted to look completely serious.

  “Oh, yeah. Completely.” She arched her brow at him. But the smile stuck to her face, anyway.

  “My turn again. Let’s see—who was your first kiss?”

  “Oh, lord. I haven’t thought about Bobby Dagana in ages. I was fourteen. He walked me home and kissed me on my doorstep. But my mom saw the whole thing happen and teased me for the rest of the day.”

  “If I had known you when we were younger, I would have kissed you before Bobby Dagana had ever thought about it.” He massaged the back of her head. Fingers tracing circles in her scalp.

  “Mmm. That feels nice. Could you keep doing that while I think of another question?” She held on to his side, hooked her fingers in his belt loop. She could have sworn the vessel rocked under her feet even as she knew that would be virtually undetectable on the large luxury yacht.

  “Nope. Sorry. That’s your question... I’m kidding.” He captured a lock of her hair and wrapped it around his finger.

  “What are you thinking about right now?” Her heart was in her throat as she waited for the answer. The seconds felt like mini eternities.

  “Honestly? You. How beautiful you are. How lucky I am.” He said it without a trace of sarcasm or humor. He squeezed her arm. Silence fell between them.

  She swallowed hard. “Really lucky to have your life turned upside down because I can’t
remember even meeting you?”

  Her eyes stung with tears.

  “Ah, Alaina,” he sighed, stroking her face. “I don’t deserve you.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you came out here with me today, even though you seemed to have sensed the yacht wasn’t neutral territory for us. Why did you come out on the yacht with me?”

  * * *

  Where the hell had that come from?

  Porter wanted to kick himself. He’d been five seconds away from romancing his wife back into his bed again. Then he’d sabotaged it by asking a question to stop their progress in its tracks.

  “The yacht seems to have been a bone of contention between us and I wanted to try to heal that.”

  “Did you remember something about it?” He felt as if his marriage was one big ticking time bomb, set to explode the second she regained her full memory. He had to make the most of their time together before that happened.

  “It’s more like a sensation, feelings.” She tapped her temple, her forehead furrowed. “Intuition, I guess. But no, I don’t remember.”

  A reprieve. For now.

  He searched for the right words to strike a balance between honesty and gaining her trust without spilling all. “We did argue, pretty heatedly. You thought it was a waste of money, that we didn’t need it, wouldn’t be using it often enough to warrant the expense.”

  “It is a nice boat.” She drew a lazy circle on his chest with her finger.

  He struggled to focus.

  “Boat? That’s something you ski behind or paddle.”

  “Ah, so the big boat is important to you.” She patted his chest. “That’s rather Freudian.”

  He didn’t take the bait and argue with her as he would have in the past. Instead, he worked to explain his feelings rather than offer up a knee-jerk reaction. Over the past few weeks, he’d pushed aside her feelings for his own, and he knew if he wanted his family to stay intact, he needed to try a different strategy.

  “The escape is important to me. There’s no office here. It’s the anticonstruction site, no land.”

  “Oh.” She blinked fast, her hands falling to her lap. “Did you tell me that before?”

  “I didn’t,” he admitted. “I should have.”

  She stayed silent so long he wondered if she would change the subject altogether.

  Then she looked up at him, her blue eyes searching his face. “Would I have heard you?”

  He hadn’t expected that from her. Maybe they were both changing, making something good happen from the hell of the car accident that had stolen her memory.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I honestly can’t answer that, Alaina. And you’ve mentioned before that it’s not fair I’m the filter for all your memories and questions.” He reached forward and slid a disc holder off the table. “We’re tied to this house for now. But I compiled all the videos and photos of our Tallahassee home. When we get back, if you’re ready and want to, I will try my best to help you connect with people who knew both of us.”

  “Thank you. Truly. This means more to me than...well, more than any expensive gift.” She took the disc from him and held it to her chest. “This is what I’m talking about. You’re really trying to hear what I need, to help us trust each other. I can feel that.”

  Trust. Now that was a sticky word. But the doctor had warned against pushing her too fast. Maybe that was a convenient excuse now for not being more open, but damn, she felt good in his arms. He didn’t want to say anything to make her pull away.

  She set the disc aside and rested her palms on his chest, the invitation clear in her gaze. “And I want to be closer to you, even if it’s just on a physical level.”

  They’d been married a long time. He recognized the authenticity of the desire in her eyes, the passion in her husky voice. Some things between them didn’t need words or memories. Their bodies recognized each other.

  Still, he had to ask, to keep what fragile trust they’d built.

  “Alaina,” he said, taking her face in his hands, “are you sure this is what you want?”

  “Absolutely certain,” she whispered against his mouth an instant before she kissed him.

  In a flash of insight, as he wrapped his arms around her, he realized why he’d asked about the boat. To deflect her from pressing for more on why he felt he wasn’t a good husband. He was changing, learning from his mistakes, but he still wasn’t ready to admit he hadn’t been up-front about how close they’d been to divorce before the accident. He wanted to make his family whole before they dealt with that truth.

  He was a jerk.

  And the worst part? He still couldn’t bring himself to back away from this chance to have Alaina again.

  * * *

  Every step of the way to their cabin below, she kissed him. Deeply. Urgently.

  Hungrily.

  Alaina savored the taste of Porter on her tongue. The sensations pulsing through her were new and familiar all at once. Surreal. Sensual.

  The touch of his hand, the rasp of his beard-stubbled face, the scent of him—all of it turned her inside out. Nothing in her life made sense. Her past was a jumble. Her present a strange haze.

  But she was certain of this. Of needing Porter. Of their undeniable chemistry. Of the evening that had sparked her back to life in a way she was somehow certain she’d never felt before.

  Her feet tangled with his as they moved through the corridor, sconces lighting the way toward the main cabin. He met her kiss for kiss, snaking his hands into the mess of her wavy hair. His steps slowing, he pressed her against the wall to deepen the contact. Pressed her closer to him. Her back against the polished cypress wainscoting.

  And then he broke the kiss to stare at her. His coal-dark eyes searched her face, looking for an answer to his unasked question. And she knew. He was wrestling with this step and the fact that she didn’t recall their marriage.

  But she recalled their now. She felt the connection. She didn’t believe in love at first sight, but there was a sense of their history still binding them, curling through some part of her mind.

  So she leaned in for another kiss and reassured him.

  “I want this.” She breathed against his mouth. Then nipped his lower lip. She let her hand travel to the tender flesh between his shirt and pant line.

  His head fell back with a growl of desire. Need fueled the air between them. He lifted her legs to wrap around his waist. She hooked her heels behind him, her core pressed to his, her arms looped around his neck. Her body was on fire for him.

  Porter.

  Her husband.

  He carried her the rest of the way down the hall, past framed photos of Florida island scenery and fishing expeditions. And she had to admit, this yacht had a romantic appeal. She appreciated the sense of escape, being away from the world, just the two of them floating alone in the world.

  Porter shouldered open the door to their master bedroom, and then shouldered the door closed after him. The lighting was dimmer here, but she didn’t care much about the surroundings anymore. Only the man touching her.

  And that big bed waiting for them.

  Gently, he eased her back onto the soft comforter carefully, stretching out on top of her. He propped himself on his forearms, but there was no missing the rigid length of him pressing against her belly.

  A smile spread across her lips as she met his gaze. In his face, she saw his desire matched hers. Frenzy. Fire. Longing.

  “Alaina. I’ve missed you. So damned much.” He punctuated each word with a kiss before angling back up onto an elbow, putting enough space between them to pluck at their clothes.

  One, then the other, he peeled off her layered shirts and bared her lacy bra to the moonlight and low flickering sconces. Reverently, he ran gentle fingers across the pe
aks of her breasts. Her nipples tightened in response. Anticipation lit beneath her skin and she reached for him, needed to feel his bare flesh against hers. She skimmed off his shirt and unzipped his jeans with impatience, her hands brushing his as he peeled away her leggings.

  Finally, finally, they were both naked. The heat of his skin seared her and she wondered how she could have ever forgotten this man.

  Porter lowered himself on top of her. Skimmed her collarbone with kisses. Traveled with soft lips back to her mouth. He held one of her hands above her head as he skimmed off her underwear.

  She arched her body toward him. Slick with need for him. His fingers teasing her, taking her desire to another level.

  His breath was against her skin again. Kissing her hip, hands sketching along her breasts, then his mouth there as well, licking and drawing her in until she bit back a cry of ecstasy.

  She pushed herself up, meeting Porter’s eyes as she reached for the hard length of him. His jaw flexed, eyes fluttering as she stroked him. His lips found hers again. Needing the contact.

  Hooking her legs around his waist again, she pulled him closer. Pulled him into her, the thick press of him filling her. They were anchored together. Joined by something more than the physical.

  There was a deliberate rhythm to their coupling. The frenzy shifting into something even more intimate. Something that didn’t rely on the past, that only existed between the people they were now. A throaty moan rolled through her. Made her dizzy as he stroked her. She writhed, hands twisting in the blanket.

  Each deep thrust sent her closer to a wave of ecstasy about to crest. They pushed farther up the deck chair until she was pressed up against the edge. Their bodies moved as one in a familiar rhythm.

  He kissed her deeply on her mouth. Her neck. She practically melted into him as he brought her to the cusp of release, slowed, held back, then thrust deeper to drive her the rest of the way into completion.