“Did it work?”
“In time. We were at a vulnerable age. Not quite men, but more than boys. It was hard to admit that our world had come crashing down around us.” He took her hand. She had twisted one piece of blanket fringe so tightly it was almost severed. Linking their fingers, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Is that what happened to you?”
Despite her emotional state, she was not above being moved by the feel of his lips against her skin. Hot tears stung her eyes, not because she was so sad, but in simple recognition of his genuine empathy. “You could say that.”
“Tell me about your baby.”
There was nothing to be gained from denial. But he would understand more if she began elsewhere. “I’ll go back to the beginning if you don’t mind.”
“A good place to start.” He kissed her fingers again before tucking her hand against his chest. The warmth of him, even through his clothing, calmed and comforted her.
“I told you that I was a stockbroker in Charlotte.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I was good, really good at my job. There were a half dozen of us, and competition was fierce. Gracious for the most part, but inescapable. I had a knack for putting together portfolios, and people liked working with me, because I didn’t make them feel stupid or uninformed about their money. We had a number of very wealthy clients with neither the time nor the inclination to grow their fortunes, so we did it for them.”
“I’m having a hard time reconciling killer Phoebe with the woman who bakes her own bread.”
His wry observation actually made her laugh. “I can understand your confusion. Back then I focused on getting ahead in my profession. I was determined to be successful and financially comfortable.”
“Perhaps because losing your parents left you feeling insecure in so many other ways.”
His intuitive comment was impressive. “You should hang out a shingle,” she said. “I’m sure people would pay for such on-the-mark analysis.”
“Is that sarcasm I hear?”
“Not at all.”
“I can’t take too much credit. You and I have more in common than I realized. Getting the foundations knocked out from under you at a time when most young people are getting ready to step out into the big wide world breeds a certain distrust in the system. Parents are supposed to help their children with the shift into adulthood.”
“And without them, everything seems like a scary gamble at best.”
“Exactly. But there’s more, isn’t there?”
She nodded, fighting the lump in her throat. “I was engaged,” she croaked. “To another broker. We had an ongoing battle to see who could bring in the most business. I thought we were a team, both professionally and personally, but it turns out I was naive.”
“What happened?”
Taking a deep breath, she ripped off the Band-Aid of her old wound and brought it all back to life…to ugly life. “We had plans to get married the following year, but no specific date. Then—in the early fall—I found out I was pregnant.”
“Not planned, I assume?”
“Oh, gosh, no. I assumed that motherhood, if it ever rolled around, was sometime way in the future. But Rick and I—that was his name—well…once we got over the shock, we started to be happy about it. Freaked-out, for sure. But happy nevertheless.”
“Did you set a date then for a wedding?”
“Not at first. We decided to wait a bit, maybe until we knew the sex of the baby, to tell our coworkers. I thought everything was rocking along just fine, and then Rick began dropping subtle and not-so-subtle hints that I should think about taking a leave for a while.”
“Why? It wasn’t a physically demanding job, was it?”
“No. But he kept bringing up the stress factor. How my intensity and my long hours could be harmful to the baby. At first, I was confused. I honestly didn’t see any problem.”
“And was there?”
“Not the one he was trying to sell to me. But the truth was, Rick knew he could be top dog at the company if I were gone. And even when I came back after maternity leave, he would have made so much progress that I would never catch up.”
“Ouch.”
She grimaced. “It was a nasty smack in the face. We had a huge fight, and he accused me of being too ambitious for my own good. I called him a sexist pig. Things degenerated from there.”
“Did you give the ring back?”
“How could I? Even if I now knew that my fiancé was a jerk, he was the father of my baby. I decided I had no choice but to make it work. But no matter how hard I tried, things only got worse.”
“Did you have an abortion?”
Leo’s quiet query held no hint of judgment, only a deep compassion. From where he was standing, that assumption made perfect sense.
She swallowed. The trembling she had managed to squelch started up again. “No. I wanted the baby by then. Against all odds. I was three and a half months along, and then…” Her throat tightened. Leo rubbed her shoulder, the caress comforting rather than sexual.
“What happened, Phoebe?”
Closing her eyes, she saw the moment as if it had been yesterday. “I started bleeding at work one day. Terribly. They rushed me to the hospital, but I lost the baby. All I could think about when I was lying in that bed, touching my empty belly, was that Rick had been right.”
“You were young and healthy. I can’t imagine there was a reason you shouldn’t have been working.”
“That’s what my doctor said. She tried to reassure me, but I wasn’t hysterical. Just cold. So cold. They told me the baby had developed with an abnormality. I would never have carried it to term. One of those random, awful things.”
She didn’t cry again. The emptiness was too dry and deep for that…a dull, vague feeling of loss.
Leo lifted her onto his lap, turning her sideways so her cheek rested on his chest. His arms held her tightly, communicating without words his sympathy and his desire to comfort her. He brushed a stray hair from her forehead. “I’m so sorry, Phoebe.”
She shrugged. “Lots of people lose babies.”
“But usually not a fiancé at the same time. You lost everything. And that’s why you came here.”
“Yes. I was a coward. I couldn’t bear people staring at me with pity. And with Rick still working at the company, I knew I was done. My boss wasn’t happy about it. I think he would have liked to fire Rick and keep me, but you can’t terminate a guy for being a selfish, self-absorbed bastard.”
“I would have.” The three words encompassed an icy intensity that communicated his anger toward a man he had never met. “Your boss shouldn’t have been so spineless. You were good at your job, Phoebe. If you had stayed, you might have recovered from your loss much sooner. The work would have been a healthy distraction. Perhaps even fulfilling in a new way.”
Here was the crux of the matter. “The thing is,” she said slowly. “I have my doubts. Looking back, I can see that I had all the makings of a workaholic. It’s bad enough when a man falls into that trap. But women are traditionally the caregivers, the support system for a spouse or a family. So even though the doctor told me I had done nothing wrong, I felt as if I had betrayed my child by working nonstop.”
Leo’s arms tightened around her, his chest heaving in a startled inhalation. “Good Lord, Phoebe. That’s totally irrational. You were an unencumbered woman on the upswing of your career. Female pioneers have fought for decades so you could be exactly where you were.”
“And yet we still have battles within the sisterhood between stay-at-home moms and those who work outside the home. I’ve seen both groups sneer at each other as though one choice is more admirable than the other.”
“I’ll give you that one. In reality, though, I assume women work for many reason
s. Fulfillment. Excitement. Or in some cases, simply to put food on the table.”
“But it’s about balance, Leo. And I had none. It’s not true that women can have it all. Life is about choices. We only have twenty-four hours in a day. That never changes. So if I don’t learn how to fit work into a box of the appropriate size, I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to go back.”
“That’s it, then? You’re never going to be employed again? Despite the fact that you’ve been gifted with financial talents and people skills?”
“I’d like to have a family someday. And even more importantly, find peace and contentment in the way I live my life. Is that so wrong?”
“How are you supposed to accomplish that by hiding out? Phoebe, you’re not doing what you’re good at…and borrowing a baby from your sister isn’t exactly going after what you want.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready yet. It sounds like a cliché, but I’ve been trying to find myself. And hopefully in the process learning something about balance.”
“We all have to live in the real world. Most of the life lessons I’ve learned have come via failure.”
“Well, that’s depressing.”
“Not at all. You have to trust yourself again.”
“And if I crash and burn?”
“Then you’ll pick yourself up and start over one more time. You’re more resilient than you think.”
Fourteen
Leo was more bothered by Phoebe’s soul-searching than he should have been. Her self-evaluation proved her to be far more courageous than he was in facing up to painful truths. But in his gut, he believed she was missing the bigger picture. Phoebe had clearly excelled in her previous career. And had loved the work, even with overt competition…perhaps because of it.
She was lucky to have had the financial resources to fund her long sabbatical. In the end, though, how would she ever know if it was time to leave the mountains? And what if she decided to stay? She had proved her independence. And in her eyes and in her home he saw peace. Did that mean she couldn’t see herself finding happiness—and perhaps a family—anywhere but here?
He played with her hair, removing the elastic band that secured her braid. Gently, he loosened the thick ropes, fanning out the dark, shiny tresses until they hung down her back, covering his hand in black silk. Holding her in his arms as a friend and not a lover was difficult, but he couldn’t push her away.
Phoebe saw herself as a coward, but that was far from the truth. Though she had been at the top of her game, she had wanted the baby that threatened to disrupt her life. Even in the face of disappointment, knowing that her fiancé was not the man she thought he was, she had been prepared to work at the relationship so they could be a family.
Leo admired her deeply.
Her eyes were closed, her breathing steady. It had been a long, busy day, and an emotional one for her. Leo knew their timing was off. Again. Even with Teddy sleeping soundly, Phoebe was in no shape to initiate a sexual relationship with a new partner. Perhaps if they had been a couple for a long time, Leo could have used the intimacy of sex to comfort and reassure her. As it was, his role would have to be that of protector.
A man could do worse when it came to Phoebe Kemper.
He stood, prepared to carry her to her room. Phoebe stirred, her long lashes lifting to reveal eyes that were still beautiful, though rimmed in red. “What are you doing?”
“You need to be in bed. Alone,” he clarified, in case there was any doubt about his intentions.
She shook her head, a stubborn expression he had come to know all too well painting her face with insistence. “I want to sleep in here so I can see the tree. I’ll keep the monitor with me. You go on to bed. I’m fine.”
He nuzzled her nose with his, resisting the urge to kiss her. Her aching vulnerability held him back. “No,” he said huskily. “I’ll stay with you.” He set her on her feet and went to his room to get extra blankets and a pillow. The bearskin rug in front of the fire would be a decent enough bed, and from there, he’d be able to keep the fire going. He brushed his teeth and changed into his pajama pants and robe.
By the time he returned, Phoebe had made the same preparations. It was colder tonight. Instead of her knit pj’s, she had donned a high-necked flannel nightgown that made her look as if she had stepped right out of the pages of Little House on the Prairie. The fabric was pale ivory with little red reindeer cavorting from neck to hemline.
The old-fashioned design should have made her look as asexual as a nun. But with her hair spilling around her shoulders and her dark eyes heavy-lidded, all Leo could think about was whether or not she had on panties beneath that fortress of a garment.
If the utilitarian cloth and enveloping design was meant to discourage him, Phoebe didn’t know much about men. When the castle was barricaded, the knights had to fight all the harder to claim their prize.
She clutched a pillow to her chest, her cheeks turning pink. “You don’t have to stay with me. I’m okay…really.”
“What if I want to?” The words came out gruffer than he intended.
Her eyes widened. He could swear he saw the faint outline of pert nipples beneath the bodice of her nightwear. She licked her lips. “You’ve been very sweet to me, Leo. I’m sorry the night didn’t go the way we planned. But maybe it’s for the best. Perhaps we were rushing into this.”
“You don’t want me?” He hadn’t meant to ask it. Hated the way the question revealed his need.
Phoebe’s chin wobbled. “I don’t know. I mean, yes. Of course I want you. I think that’s painfully obvious. But we’re not…”
“Not what?” He took the pillow from her and tossed it on the couch. Gathering her into his arms, he fought a battle of painful scale. It seemed as if he had wanted her for a lifetime. “Only a fool would press you now…when you’ve dealt with so much tonight. But make no mistake, Phoebe. I’m going to have you. No matter how long the wait.” He stroked his hands down her back, pulling her hips to his, establishing once and for all that she was not wearing underwear.
Had he detected any resistance at all on her part, he would have been forced to release her. But she melted into him, her body warm and soft and unmistakably feminine through the negligible barrier of her gown. He had belted his robe tightly before leaving his bedroom, not wanting to give any appearance of carnal intent.
To his intense shock and surprise, a small hand made its way between the thin layers of cashmere and found his bare chest. Within seconds his erection lifted and thickened. His voice locked in his throat. He was positive that if he spoke, the words would come out wrong.
Phoebe’s hand landed over his heart and lingered as if counting the beats. Could she hear the acceleration? Did she feel the rigidity of his posture? He gulped, his breathing shallow and ragged. There was no way she could miss his thrusting sex, even through her pseudo armor.
The woman in his arms sighed deeply. “You should go to your room,” she whispered. “The floor will be too hard.”
“I’ll manage.” He thrust her away, hoping the maneuver wasn’t as awkward as it felt. Turning his back, he added logs to the fire and then prepared his makeshift bed.
In his peripheral vision he saw Phoebe ready the sofa with a pile of blankets and her own pillow. When she sat down, removed her slippers and swung her legs up onto the couch, he caught one quick glimpse of bare, slender thighs. Holy hell.
A shot of whiskey wouldn’t come amiss, but Phoebe’s fridge held nothing stronger than beer. Quietly, keeping a wide perimeter between himself and temptation, he went about the cabin turning off lights. Soon, only the glow of the fire and the muted rainbow colors of the tree illuminated the room.
He checked the lock on the front door and closed a gap in the drapes. When he could think of nothing else as a distraction, he turned reluctantly and surveyed th
e evocative scene Phoebe’s love of Christmas had created. Even the most hardened of “Scrooge-ish” hearts surely couldn’t resist the inherent emotion.
Peace. Comfort. Home. All of it was there for anyone with eyes to see. Had his luxurious condo in Atlanta ever been as appealing?
Phoebe’s eyes were closed, a half smile on her lips. She lay like a child with one hand tucked beneath her cheek. He didn’t know if she was already asleep or simply enjoying the smell of the outdoors they had managed to capture in a tree. Perhaps it was the sound of the fire she savored, the same life-affirming heat that popped and hissed as it had for generations before.
Exhaustion finally overrode his lust-addled brain and coaxed him toward sleep. He fashioned his bed in front of the hearth and climbed in. It wasn’t the Ritz-Carlton, but for tonight, there was nowhere he would rather be. After no more than five minutes, he realized that his robe was going to be far too warm so close to the fire.
Shrugging out of it, he tossed it aside and lay back in the covers with a yawn. A month ago if anyone had told him he’d be camping out on a hard floor in dangerous proximity to a fascinating woman he wanted desperately, he’d have laughed. Of course, he would have had a similar reaction if that same someone had told him he’d have a heart attack at thirty-six.
He had to tell Phoebe the truth about why he had come to the Smoky Mountains…to her cabin in the woods. She had bared her soul to him. Perhaps tomorrow he would find the opportunity and the words to reveal the truth. The prospect made him uneasy. He hated admitting weakness. Always had. But his pride should not stand in the way of his relationship to a woman he had come to respect as much or more than he desired her.
He shifted on the furry pallet, searching for a position that was comfortable. With Phoebe in the same room, he didn’t even have the option of taking his sex in hand and finding relief. Hours passed, or so it seemed, before he slept….
A Billionaire for Christmas Page 12
