Santa's Seven-Day Baby Tutorial

by Meg Maxwell

  So much for the hot kiss. The weak knees. Colt Asher was not looking to marry, but she was sure he had relationships. Sex. He would likely not lay a finger on her, though. If she wanted a hot English affair with the FBI agent, she would have to make the first move.

  Not that she was ready for that. It was one thing to fantasize. It was another to do it. And she had no idea what she could handle emotionally. Could she have an affair with Colt Asher when it would lead to nothing? Perhaps that was the point of a weeklong, scorching-hot English affair. Wild sex. Then it was over.

  Except then what? She wasn’t necessarily going home after. Or staying in the English world. She didn’t know where she belonged. Until then, she should take care with herself. And her heart. And her body.

  It was good that the Englisher was talking about baby food and schedules.

  “Do you have groceries?” she asked.

  “Of course,” he said.

  “I thought maybe you were one of those bachelors who didn’t cook.”

  “I have a limited range, but I can certainly open a jar of baby food. And make an omelet and a steak. And pasta. Is there anything else anyway?”

  She laughed. “There really isn’t. I could eat pasta every day for the rest of my life.”

  “One day you’ll have tortellini in Rome,” he said.

  She was touched he remembered that from their very first conversation outside her barn, that he’d been listening. “Maybe one day I will.”

  “What should I make for dinner?” he asked, surprising her. “Given that Noah and Nathaniel are all set with pureed apricots and applesauce and some Toasty O’s cereal, I’m thinking I could make my famous western omelets and home fries for us.”

  “Sounds great,” she said with a smile.

  While Colt went into the kitchen, which was open-concept and full of stainless steel appliances, Anna watched the babies play. Twenty minutes later, he announced dinner was ready. He even had two baby seats for the dining room table so that the boys could eat with them.

  The dining room had another wall of windows and the entire city was lit up. Anna could hardly believe this was her view. She and Colt sat across from each other, a baby next to each of them. Anna fed Noah his apricots; Colt was on applesauce duty with Nathaniel.

  “Your nephews are good eaters,” she said. “And you’re a good cook. Dinner is delicious.” He’d surprised her by cooking. By serving dinner. By including the bopplis in their conversation instead of pretending they weren’t there. Colt Asher would be full of surprises, of that she had no doubt.

  Just don’t fall in love with the man, she told herself. You’re in lust. You’re infatuated. Fine. All good. Just don’t get your heart involved or you’re in big trouble.

  “According to my sister’s schedule, the boys will be ready for bed at seven thirty. Since it’s six thirty now and Blue Gulch is a three-hour drive, I’m thinking we should just stay here for the night and start our trip fresh in the morning.”

  Here. Overnight. Just the two of them? Well, technically there were four of them.

  Yes. Yes, yes, yes.

  “If you’re okay with that,” he said. She could tell he was recalling the way her aenti and onkel had reacted to the thought of her staying in his home.

  “I’m perfectly okay with that,” she said—too quickly. Calm down, she told herself, but she could barely contain her smile.

  “The guest-room bed is very comfortable,” he added, “and that’s per my princess-and-the-pea sister, who complains about four-star hotels’ beds. I have a master bath in my bedroom, so the bathroom next to the guest room is all yours. Make yourself at home.”

  The goose bumps lit up her arms and nape of her neck. She was staying here, in this condo thirty-two floors up in the Houston sky, overnight with this gorgeous specimen of manhood.

  This rumspringa could not be off to a more exciting start.

  * * *

  As Colt finished cleaning up after dinner, he could hear Anna singing softly to the twins in the guest room. A German lullaby. He was fluent in Spanish and could understand enough French and Italian to get by, but he only knew a few German words and phrases. He turned on the dishwasher and then walked over to the guest room and peered in. Anna sat in the chair between the two cribs in the dimly lit room, both twins quiet and peering at her with droopy eyes.

  She continued singing as their eyes closed, and when she seemed sure they were asleep, she got up and came out, closing the door behind her.

  “Was that an Amish lullaby?” he asked.

  “Ja. I mean yes. I’m going to try to stick to English only during my rumspringa. But my mother sang me that lullaby and I always sing it to the babies I tend to. Puts them right to sleep.”

  He wanted to reach out and touch her long blond hair, which curved in front of one shoulder down to her waist. Her small waist. He thought of the moment she’d come out of this room earlier in the sweater and jeans, and it was as if he’d been shot with a cartoon arrow. He’d gone loopy for a second, unable to breathe at the sight of her. She’d been beautiful in paint-stained overalls and a baseball cap. She’d been beautiful in a loose blue dress to her ankles. She was unbearably sexy in the little red sweater and tight jeans.

  And completely off-limits. Anna might be on her rumspringa for a week, and she might stay or return to her village and commit to her faith, but either way, he couldn’t think of her as available. Even if she was open to it, to experiencing...him as part of the English world, a rumspringa romance could cause big problems. He had no idea if Anna had ever had a boyfriend, let alone sex, but based on what he knew about the Amish, he doubted it. When the week was up, he would bring his nephews home to their parents and spend the final week of his vacation researching the Duvall crime organization before he brought together the task force to infiltrate the syndicate and gather the necessary evidence to make arrests. Even if Anna decided to become an “Englisher” herself, he wasn’t the man for her. He wasn’t ever getting married or having children. So he’d be wise to keep his hands off her, no matter how irresistible she was.

  “You know what I’d love to do?” she asked.

  It could be anything. There were likely so many things she’d never done that he couldn’t begin to guess.

  She might even say “have mind-blowing sex.”

  Her pale brown eyes were twinkling. Maybe she would say “mind-blowing sex.” Maybe she did want to have a no-strings hot romance for a week, after which they’d both walk away.

  “Watch my first movie” was what she said. “Something amazing. A classic.”

  He was equally relieved and disappointed. “A classic. I think we have to go with a Christmas classic. It’s a Wonderful Life.”

  “I like the title. Will we have popcorn? That’s tradition, right?”

  She was way too easy to please. He would have to be very careful around her. Very careful with her.

  “Popcorn and my favorite beer?” he asked.

  “Perfect,” she said with a grin.

  And so Colt Asher, who’d seen It’s a Wonderful Life at least five times, found himself watching it again with his nephews’ nanny, a big bowl of popcorn on the sofa between them, two beers on the coffee table. Anna was half-covered in a fuzzy orange throw that he’d bought from the Amish market a few months ago. He watched Anna more than he watched the film, which he could probably recite by heart anyway. She smiled and laughed and cried and shook her fist at mean old Mr. Potter.

  When the credits rolled, she was wiping away happy tears. “I could watch that every Christmas for the rest of my life.”

  He smiled. “Wouldn’t be Christmas if you didn’t.”

  She turned away and seemed lost in thought.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “The movie was about realizing what you h
ave. How you’ve had a big effect even if you hadn’t stepped foot from your small town. Clarence the angel would definitely have had a lot to show me. And if there’d been no me, the present would be changed in my village. The future would be changed.”

  “Has it been a wonderful life?” he asked, sipping his beer.

  “Some of it, yes. But it’s been a limited life, too.”

  “Then there’s your answer. You can appreciate what you have, what you’ve had, and still want to experience more. You’re not looking to end your life, Anna. You’re looking to change it.”

  She smiled. “I guess you can’t really relate. You don’t want anything to change. Right?”

  He frowned. Was that true? “Except for the criminals off the streets of Houston. Other than that, I’m good.” Maybe it was true.

  “You’re lucky to feel content,” she said. “That’s my goal.”

  “I didn’t say I was content.” He took another sip of beer, not really wanting to have this conversation. Talking about himself was one of his least favorite things to do.

  A fussy wail came from the guest room. Saved by a seven-month-old. Colt stood. “I’ll go see who’s up.”

  She grabbed his hand, sending a little shock wave through him. He was amazed that such a small gesture had such a big impact on his nerve endings. “Wait a few moments. Sometimes a baby will fuss for a few seconds and then soothe himself back to sleep. So you don’t want to rush in too soon.”

  Another fussy wail. Then silence. She was very good at her job.

  Well, he could still change the subject.

  Colt sat back down and held up his beer glass in a toast. “If you weren’t here, I’d have a squawking, tired baby on my lap right now.”

  She laughed and held her glass up to clink it. “So what did you and my onk—my uncle Eli talk about when I went into my house to pack?”

  “He asked me to watch out for you. He said you were smart and fearless and deeply curious about the world but that you’d never been farther than Grass Creek for a few hours at a time except for visiting the hospital in Houston and that I should keep that in mind.”

  She frowned. “It’s nice that he cares. But I don’t need to be spoken about as if I’m fourteen going on a chaperoned school trip. I’m twenty-four. An adult woman.”

  Hmm. She’d given him a good idea. If he thought of himself as her chaperone in the English world, he’d erect a glass wall between them so that he could see her but not touch her, not get too close at all. He’d protect her from himself. A man who was incredibly attracted to her but whose intentions would be far from honorable unless honoring her need for wild sex with no strings was the goal. And if it was? Loaded. He’d have to really think about that one.

  He shifted slightly over, in the opposite direction so that their knees had no chance of bumping. “Do you think you’ll go back after the week is up?”

  “It’s impossible to say now. So far, I feel very comfortable. I like electricity. I like TV. I like these jeans.”

  “I do, too,” he said, his gaze moving from her long legs to her red sweater and lovely face.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He found himself memorizing every detail of her pretty face and pale brown eyes, the way one dimple creased in her cheek when she smiled, how her light blond hair frothed over her cheek and down her shoulders to pool at her waist.

  She turned toward him and shifted, her curves even more pronounced, and his desire to kiss her was overwhelming. Her lips slightly puckered and she stared at his mouth, then her gaze moved up to his eyes, then back to his mouth. She lightly licked her lips. Was that an invitation? Before he could think or stop himself or even remember his earlier warnings to himself, he leaned closer and closer, giving her the opportunity to frown or lean away or say “Just what do you think you’re doing, Englisher?”

  But instead she leaned closer, too, lifting up her chin, her pink-red lips so luscious, so close. Their mouths met and he slipped his hands on her face, bringing her even closer. His hands traveled down her neck and explored her back, then slid under the sweater. Unfortunately, she wore a thin shirt underneath when he wanted to feel her skin. He moved his hands to the front of her sweater, needing it off now. But her hands stilled his.

  “This may be moving too fast,” she said.

  It was as if someone snapped fingers in his face and woke him up. He shifted away from her and sat back. Of course it was moving too fast. There should be no movement at all. He shouldn’t have kissed her, shouldn’t have touched her. He would not take advantage of her, no matter how badly he wanted her.

  “I think I heard one of the babies,” she said and rushed into the guest room.

  In a moment she was back. “Colt, since I clearly just contradicted my earlier advice about not racing in to soothe the twins, I just wanted to say I didn’t hear anyone. You caught me off guard and I...as the English say, freaked.”

  He’d freaked, too. At how much he wanted her. How good and right the kiss had felt. “The kiss was a mistake,” he said anyway. Because it was true. “It won’t happen again.”

  “I don’t think it was a mistake. Or that it shouldn’t happen again.”

  She told it like it was. He liked that. He wished she’d stop being so likable.

  “But you’re very new to me, Colt Asher. So I’d better say good-night.”

  “Good night,” he said, not wanting her to leave. He wished she’d sit back down and tell him about her village, about her childhood, about her friends and boyfriends—if she’d had any. He wanted to know everything about her.

  An arm’s length away, though.

  Chapter Five

  The next day, after a three-hour drive to Blue Gulch, Colt turned onto the main street in the quaint town. Anna peered out the window at the shops and restaurants and small park at the far end, a food truck selling po’boys and cannoli with a line down the block. She felt instantly at home, despite having never been here before. This was a small town, much smaller than Grass Creek, but the bustling downtown was alive with energy and window shoppers and people walking dogs and sitting at the small round tables in front of the bakery, sipping something from small cups with plates of pastry. All the shops were decorated for the holidays, as were some of the trees. Anna smiled as they passed the library, a pizzeria with a guy flipping dough high in the air and a Chinese restaurant, which she would definitely be exploring. A beautiful pink-orange Victorian with a sign that read Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen looked so inviting. She would surely be eating at Hurley’s over the next week.

  Colt pulled into a small lot just a couple of doors down from the restaurant. The Blue Gulch Inn. Like Hurley’s, the inn was a Victorian. It was a pretty shade of yellow with a white door and a white picket fence. This was to be home for the next week. Colt checked them in, and then they headed back to his SUV to bring in all the baby paraphernalia, the portable cribs and playpen and the twins’ toys.

  As passersby smiled, particularly as Colt set each twin in the stroller, once again Anna loved being mistaken for the mother, the twins her children, the gorgeous FBI agent her husband. Last night, this morning, now—everything seemed like a dream, like one of her fantasies, but she was really here, dressed in these clothes, her life completely different than it had been yesterday morning. This morning she’d woken up in Colt’s guest room surprised that she knew exactly where she was, that she was taking care of twin babies and not three calves. Because this feels right and strangely comfortable, she thought. The babies had each woken up once during the night, but Anna had hardly slept anyway, her mind on the man down the hall. She wondered if he was thinking about her and their kiss. If he wanted more, much more. She’d wondered if he slept naked the way a friend had told her all Englishers did.

  Her first night as an almost Englisher, she hadn’t slept naked. For one thing, she n
eeded to pop out of bed to care for the babies. For another, if Colt knocked on her door and she was naked, after having spent hours thinking about his gorgeous face and rock-hard body, who knew what urges would overcome her. She might “jump his bones.” Considering that she’d called a halt to their kiss, which had led to traveling hands, she doubted she’d do anything. But she did know it wasn’t wise to rush into sex with a man who made her feel things she’d never felt.

  “Our rooms are on the first floor for ease with the babies,” he said as they followed the proprietor down the hall. The inn was lovely, full of antiques and vases of flowers and interesting paintings and rugs.

  Their rooms were at the back of the house, right across from each other. After helping them carry in the babies’ things to Anna’s room, the owner gave them their keys, let them know breakfast was between seven and eight thirty and then left them alone.

  To accommodate the porta-cribs and equipment, Colt had booked Anna the largest room, and she loved the French doors that led into a private fenced yard.

  “What a beautiful room,” she said, looking all around as Colt stood in the doorway, his hand on the twins’ stroller. The room had a seaside theme. There were big shells on the bureau, which had a huge round mirror, and a rose-colored quilt decorated with tiny starfish. There was a rocking chair in a corner, perfect for calming the bopplis to sleep.

  He smiled. “Why don’t we head next door to Hurley’s?” he asked. “In one of our emails, my twin told me it’s a favorite in Blue Gulch. Best barbecue in the county.”

  She loved this life. Small-town inns. Barbecue. And Colt. For an entire week. “Sounds good,” she said.

  A few minutes later, Colt pushed the stroller down the sidewalk toward the restaurant, and since there were three big steps leading up to a porch, they parked the stroller out of the way and each took a baby.

  “What cuties!” a waitress said, ogling Noah and Nathaniel. “We have baby seats for the tables. It’ll be about ten minutes, though.”