They found a bench along the bike path with a shoreline view and sat. She squinted from the bright sun and had to slip on her sunglasses, covering those gorgeous caramel-candy eyes. He was glad to see the smile never left her face.
The simple fact they had time alone together had sparks flying and itchy messages flowing through the circuit board of his body. He’d much rather strip her naked than hand her a cup of soup, but he kept his true desire at bay, and when she took the first taste he received a smile of orgasmic proportions, and that smile was definitely worth his efforts.
Stephanie wasn’t very talkative today, but that was okay. He was happy to be with her. Just before he finished dunking the edge of his roll into the last of his soup, his cell phone rang. It was Roma.
“They’re going to discharge your dad this afternoon, so I won’t be able to pick up Robbie.”
“I’ll make arrangements,” Phil said, realizing he’d gotten pretty blasé about carpools and favors and paybacks with the other mothers from the preschool. They all seemed to really get a kick out of the “cool” surrogate dad on campus. Normally, he would have played the distinction to the hilt. He’d flirt, use them for all the favors they could offer, and maybe even find out if any of the moms were single. But out of respect for his kid brother, he’d done the right thing by taking care of him and hadn’t abused the special circumstances.
And, besides, he’d been completely preoccupied with Stephanie.
“Do you want me to keep him tonight, so you and Dad can get settled?”
“That would be wonderful,” she said, after an obvious sigh of relief.
Stephanie looked at him as if he were a superhero or something. In that moment he admitted it: he might just miss the kid once he went home. Maybe…just a little.
He flipped through his contacts on the phone and made a quick call. “Hey, Claire, can you do me a huge favor and pick up Robbie today when you get Gina?” After almost two weeks, he finally understood the bartering side of child care. “Thanks, and I’ll drop her off at your house from day care after I get off work.”
Stephanie’s arms flew around his neck and she planted a cold kiss on his cheek. It wasn’t the sexy kind of kiss he’d been hoping for, but he wouldn’t complain. He turned the angle of his face so their lips could meet, and dropped a peck on her mouth. This was all way too affectionate for his taste. He preferred sexy and hot, but the weirdest thing was, he kind of liked it.
“I guess we better be getting back to the clinic,” he said. “Looks like Robbie and I are roommates for one more night.”
Chapter Seven
THURSDAY morning lab results planted a rock-size knot firmly into Stephanie’s stomach. Celeste Conroy’s biopsy showed squamous cell carcinoma. After last Thursday and Thanksgiving, Maria was back today, sitting on the other side of Stephanie’s desk, waiting expectantly for the day’s assignment.
“Well,” Stephanie said, handing the printed pathology report to the RNP student. “This is a perfect example of what makes this job a challenge.”
“Wow,” Maria said. “She’s pregnant, right? How do you handle something like this?”
“I tell her the truth. We need to find out how extensive the cancer is and I’ll need to do a conization of her cervix.”
She’d remove a thick cone-shaped wedge of tissue from the area in question of the cervix, extending high into the cervical canal. Her goal would be to leave a wide margin of normal cells around the area of cancer.
“Risks?” Maria queried.
“Yes, but we must always balance them against the benefits. I’ll do everything in my power to keep both the mother and the baby healthy.” Stephanie glanced over her calendar for the earliest possible appointment. “I want to do the biopsy on Monday so I can get this mother-to-be some good news before Christmas.” She shuddered, thinking of all the potential possibilities, and willed a positive attitude.
“Would it be okay if I came in to observe?” Maria patted her protruding pregnancy as worry lines etched her brow.
“Of course.”
Stephanie’s pulse had worked its way into her mouth. She punched in the phone number, willing her quivery hand to settle down, then cleared her throat. She needed to sound confident when she gave the diagnosis, for the patient’s sake.
Stephanie couldn’t believe the choreographed chaos on Saturday morning at the harbor. Even halfway down the harbor she could hear lively Christmas music over the loudspeaker. The pungent sea air seemed to heighten her senses, making her feel alive and excited. She stopped in midstep, having never seen a more gorgeous boat. As promised, everyone from the clinic had showed up with their contribution. She’d even made an extra effort to buy several strings of Christmas lights for the yacht.
Jason greeted her with a captain’s smile and waved her aboard. Before she boarded, she noticed the name on the bow—For Claire. Something about that special touch pinched at her heart. She’d heard bits and pieces about Claire and Jason’s love affair. It hadn’t been easy for either of them to admit they’d fallen in love, yet now they made a perfect couple. She shook her head. Why were people so slow to figure things like that out?
“This is my latest indulgence,” Jason said, grinning and patting the rail. “I wanted to upgrade, anyway.”
Claire, wearing a teal-colored windbreaker and matching ball cap, with her long ponytail sticking out the hole in the back, stood at his side, smiling up at him. “He made sure there were plenty of shady spots when he designed this boat, because of my lupus. Come on, I’ll show you around.”
Amy and Gaby worked diligently on placing the small Christmas trees at key positions on the bow, stern, port, and starboard. Other nurses and aides helped stabilize and decorate them. They waved hello, and the simple greeting made Stephanie feel like part of the clinic family. Maybe it would have happened sooner if she’d reached out to them. Well, better late than never.
Just when Claire was about to take Stephanie below deck, she saw Phil rushing down the dock with a huge pink box in his arms. He waved at her and smiled, and her insides got jumbled up. Jason met him dockside and shook his hand.
“I brought doughnuts,” Phil said.
“Yay,” Amy said, as Gaby applauded.
“I’m making cocoa,” Claire called over her shoulder, leading Stephanie by the arm down to the galley. Stephanie was grateful for the distraction to buy time to straighten out her suddenly fuzzy thoughts.
Wow. Stephanie had never seen a more modern galley on a boat. Granted, her experience with boats was woefully limited, but still. Stainless-steel appliances, perfectly stained woodwork and cupboards; the compact galley oozed class.
As Claire stirred a huge pot of milk, adding cocoa liberally, she seemed her usual self from work, but more relaxed and completely carefree. “I’d never been on a sailboat until I met Jason. Now I’m ready to give up my practice, homeschool Gina, and sail around the world with him.” A soft laugh gently bubbled out. “Don’t worry, we won’t quit our day jobs. Too many people need us at that clinic, and I love it there. But maybe someday…”
“You must take some great weekend getaways,” Stephanie said, gathering the red paper cups decorated with wreaths and garland trim and placing them on a large tray.
“Not as often as we’d like, but we have plans for a longer trip this summer. Thought we’d sail up to San Francisco and back.”
“Wow,” Stephanie said. “That’s impressive.” She held the tray close so Claire could ladle out the cocoa into the cups then she shook the whipped cream can and sprayed a dollop on top of each.
“If all goes well, maybe the year after we’ll set sail for Hawaii.”
“Sounds like a dream come true.”
Before she could say more, a familiar bedroom-sexy voice vibrated from the doorway into the main saloon. “You ladies need a hand?” Phil hung in the doorway, opening up his broad chest, cutting a V down to a trim waist. Her throat went dry, so strong was her reaction, and she suddenly needed a sip
of cocoa. “I think we’ve got this covered.”
She did her best to act casual, as if the mere presence of the man didn’t scatter her nerves.
He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “The folks have already eaten most of the doughnuts, but I saved you ladies a couple.”
“Thanks. We’ll be right up,” Claire said, oblivious to the caveman-sexy gaze streaming from Phil’s sea-blue eyes and directed at Stephanie.
How in the world would she make it through the day without mauling the man?
She’d been losing sleep, having hot and restless dreams of tussling in bedsheets with a strange man. The dreams had been so realistic; she could practically feel the man’s weight on her body, driving himself into her. Hell, she knew exactly who the guy was. Phil. One time she’d woken up with the covers on the floor, throbbing thighs, sheets wadded in her fists, panting, and very frustrated. How in the world should she handle her desire where Phil was concerned?
They were both adults—why not enjoy each other?
Later, as she and Phil put the finishing touches on the mainsail Christmas lights, she jumped at his touch.
“Sorry,” she said, as electricity powered through her veins.
“You seem a bit flinchy,” he said, drilling her with a stare.
“I’m just a little uptight with all the new patients and work and all.”
Phil lowered his voice and lifted her hair, hooking it behind one ear. “It’s Christmastime, pretty baby, loosen up.” The raucous version of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree nearly drowned out his words. “You know, a little TLC might be just the thing you need.”
A vision of tender loving care, compliments of Phil, whirled through her mind. She couldn’t breathe for a second. He’d spoken the words she’d been afraid to acknowledge. He seemed to know exactly what she’d been thinking, and now her cheeks were probably betraying her by blushing hot pink. She glanced around the busy deck. Fortunately, everyone seemed oblivious to them.
Why not? Why the hell not have a fling? Was she such a wretched person that she didn’t deserve a little pleasure in life? Phil had already proved what a fantastic lover he was. He hadn’t pushed her into doing anything she hadn’t wanted to. Hell, she’d come up with all kinds of ideas in her dreams lately. It could be fun to try them out…with Phil.
Did she really want to balance on the precipice of sexual frustration for another month, or slide back into that incredible place he’d taken her before?
How many times did she need to give herself permission to live?
Her cheeks flamed and her palms tingled, thinking about it. Slowly, she glanced into his darkening and decidedly sexy stare.
“Robbie went home last night,” he said, eyes never wavering from hers. “And I owe you that dinner out. What about tonight?”
What about tonight? She knew what he meant, what he wanted.
He’d sounded the same when he’d made love to her. Phil’s voice, full of intimate intention, massaged her rising senses, snapping to life key areas and a powerful drive to scratch the itch with him.
So strong was her physical reaction that if everything else could just disappear, she’d be on him, knocking him down and ripping off his clothes right this instant.
Nearly trembling with desire, she found her voice, if only a whisper. “Yes. Tonight.”
That evening, Stephanie had talked herself down from the frantic sexual cliff, but excitement still washed over every cell in her body. She couldn’t wait to see Phil again, to be alone with him. The permission she’d given herself to be with him had been so incredibly freeing.
He picked her up at her hotel looking impeccable. He wore a perfectly tailored sport coat, dark slacks, and a pale blue shirt open at the collar. Did he realize how the color brought out his eyes? His hair, brushed back from his forehead, curled beneath his earlobes. And that smile—did she stand a chance resisting it? She didn’t want to!
She’d rushed to the Paseo after they’d finished decorating the boat that afternoon and bought a little black dress. Now, standing before his scrutinizing eyes, she tugged at the skirt with shaky hands. Maybe tonight’s seduction wouldn’t be as easy as she’d fantasized. She didn’t want her nerves to ruin things.
“Wow,” he said. “You look spectacular.”
His reaction nearly knocked her off her spiky heels. It was exactly what she’d wanted to hear. He liked what he saw, and that made her ecstatic. In her fantasy, she was a vamp, but here, in front of Phil, all she could say was, “Thanks.”
His gaze lingered several moments then he scanned from her hair to her brightly polished toes. As if his head was a glass globe, she could practically see his thoughts. He liked what he saw and wanted to indulge. Just as quickly, he snapped out of the spell.
“I hope you’ve got a warm coat,” he said, brushing a light kiss across her cheek. Man, he smelled as good as he looked. “We’ll be eating outside.”
What did she care? It would give her an excuse to cuddle up close to him.
They entered the restaurant, called Bouchon, through a shrubbery-hidden portal, and the first thing Stephanie noticed was shiny light wood floors. The decor was understated yet classy, utilizing matching light wood tables and chairs, and cream-colored tablecloths. Huge modern art canvases supplied needed color on the walls. Her first impression was that the total dining effect was as warm and welcoming as Phil’s hand pressing against hers.
Phil seemed to know the proprietor of the restaurant and had gotten them a perfectly placed table on the patio. He guided her with his palm at her waist, the barely there pressure at her back already setting off chill rockets. Even though every seat was taken, their cozy corner felt as intimate as Phil’s eyes. The brisk evening air mingled with radiant restaurant heat lamps to create the best of both outdoor and indoor worlds.
Stephanie inhaled and rolled her shoulders, inviting the long-overdue relaxation to settle in.
Phil’s taste was flawless. The wine crisp from nearby vineyards, appetizers made from local farmers’ market ingredients, and the main course free range from Santa Barbara microranches.
Stephanie savored the exquisite taste of plump sea scallops, sharing the appetizer with Phil and with a perfect glass of Chardonnay. He’d insisted she try the seared duck as her main course, the signature dish of the great chef. Who was she to argue?
He took her hand in his and gazed appreciatively into her eyes. “I’m really glad we finally got our date.”
So this was what it had all come down to. She hadn’t planned on sleeping with him on Thanksgiving, but hadn’t regretted it for a second. She’d backtracked a bit from her permission, but seeing Phil as a whole person, committed to his job and connected to his family, drove her to know him more. The decision to take the moment by the horns and ride it for all it was worth, or walk away a frustrated and closed-off woman, remained in her hands.
She glanced at Phil, latticed moonlight shadows making him all the more intriguing. The decision seemed obvious.
She couldn’t help but smile as warm tingles worked their way through her insides. She could blame it on the wine and great food, but she knew better. Only Phil could set that kind of reaction twisting through her. Her decision final, she’d skip dessert at the restaurant, instead saving up for the special delights that Phil Hansen had to offer.
Three hours later, flat on her back, Stephanie lay panting, staring at the ceiling, flushed and tingling…everywhere! Phil should have a doctorate in making love.
Never in her life had she given in to her desires, completely exempt of expectations, and gone with her mood. Until now. With Phil. He had a way of drawing that out of her. She didn’t feel tawdry about it, either. With him, making love came as naturally as breathing, and, boy, was she out of breath.
He nuzzled her neck, sending yet another wave of chills across her skin. “That was perfect,” he said, husky and still revved up.
She slipped her arm across his torso and curled into his shoulder. Secure in
his embrace, and content beyond words, she sighed. “We’ll have to do this again sometime.”
His devilish laugh vibrated through his chest. “Why not right now?” He got up on his elbows and looked deep into her eyes. “You’re incredible, you know that?”
Did she know that? Had her husband ever told her she was incredible? They’d been in love once upon a time—she’d known that much for sure. When she’d become pregnant, she’d been happier than she’d ever been, but months later things had changed.
Her hand brushed over her abdomen, imagining the fallopian tubes she’d had tied off. She was safe. She’d never get pregnant again.
Phil’s mouth pressed gently against her jaw. He glanced into her eyes again, as if he’d seen her secret fleeting thoughts. The next kiss he delivered was warm and caring. The tender gesture nearly split her heart.
She kissed him back, ragged and hard, her fingers digging into that glorious hair. If she was having a fling with Phil, she couldn’t allow emotions or any feelings beyond passion and excitement to get in the way.
Sunday, after making her breakfast in bed—Phil had been breakfast—he talked her into hitting the beach for a game of volleyball.
She couldn’t help but grin at the invitation. Surfing may be his turf, but volleyball was definitely hers. After a few warm-up shots, they thwopped the ball back and forth across the net. Her toes dug into the sand, the fresh sea breeze making her skin feel as vibrant and warm as Phil’s touch had the night before, as warm as the sun heating her scalp and shoulders. Phil popped a ball off his fingertips, and out of reflex she spiked it over the net, hitting him smack between the eyes. Shock quaked through her body as she rushed to him.
He rubbed his nose, looking dazed. “Great shot, Bennett!”
A Magical Christmas Page 41
