“I came to give you Nick. He’s…your son.”

Alessandro kept his voice low, but it still bit. “Are you trying to tell me that you and I were lovers?” His laugh held a harsh edge. “There isn’t a chance that once I’d had you in my bed I’d forget such a memorable occasion.”

Lauren’s gaze fastened on him for an endless moment and he felt as if she were searching for something deep within him.

“So when and where was he conceived?” Alessandro’s mouth twisted. “And perhaps I should ask…with whom?”

Dear Reader,

Christmas is my favorite time of the year. It’s a time for joy and laughter as much as it’s a time for stories that touch the heart. It’s also a time for miracles. The miracle of love. The miracle of family….

The Baby Gift is a deeply emotional story about a woman who knows she can’t take care of the baby in her custody by herself, even though she wants to keep the child with every particle of her being. And it’s the story of a man who learns to accept, love and cherish The Baby Gift he’s given—and the very special woman who presents him with this gift.

I hope you enjoy my latest book, and I wish you and yours true happiness this holiday, along with health, peace and a New Year filled with joyful memories.

Love,

P.S. As for the bathtub scene—it really happened. To me, unfortunately!

The Baby
Gift
Day Leclaire

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Dee Tenorio. Many, many thanks for sharing

baby Gio with me! You’re the greatest.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

Ten days before Christmas…

SHE came to him again, all silk and sweetness and heady feminine perfume. Everything about her was soft—from her hip-length cornsilk hair, to her gentle, eager touch, to her soothing words. And her mouth… Her warm, hungry, giving mouth was softest of all.

She flowed over him, rousing emotions he thought had been gutted long ago. He was helpless to resist. Hell, resistance was the furthest thing from his mind. He wanted her. Needed her.

Took her.

Alessandro awoke with a jolt.

Tossing back his covers, he escaped the rumpled bed and crossed to stare out at a star-studded winter sky. Why did that dream continue to haunt him? It was so nebulous, so lacking in form or substance. And yet, it filled him with an odd restlessness. There was something he’d forgotten to do. Something urgent.

But he couldn’t remember what.

He reached for the chain and ring that encircled his neck, cursing when he didn’t find it. He’d lost it almost two years ago, and normally, he remembered that. But on the odd occasion—frustrating occasions when his emotions got the better of him—he reverted to a habit that had been established in boyhood, when the chain had first been placed around his neck by his grieving father.

It was because of his dream, he acknowledged, a dream that had been haunting him with increasing regularity for the past nine months. The woman in it was, without question, his ex-wife, though for some reason Rhonda’s hair was longer and silkier than the flaming red corkscrew curls that had rioted around her face during their eighteen months together. And while he wanted his ex with a painful desperation while asleep, when he woke he couldn’t find the tiniest ember of passion lingering from the disaster of their marriage and subsequent divorce.

Pain, sure. Anger, definitely. Regrets, plenty. But there wasn’t a shred of love or desire. He leaned his arm against the casing of the bay window, his hand folding into a fist. So why the dreams? And what the hell was he supposed to do? What had he forgotten?

“Come on, Salvatore. Think.”

The melancholy hoot of a great horned owl escaped from the California woods surrounding the family’s mountain cabin, the sound a painful echo of his own loneliness. He hated this time of year. Or perhaps he just hated the memories it roused. Drawing back from the window, he glared at the dream-tossed bed, his frustration mounting.

What the hell had he forgotten?

CHAPTER ONE

Seven days before Christmas…

SHE came to him again, all silk and sweetness and heady feminine perfume. There was a uniqueness to her that he instantly recognized, even in his dreams. It was as though they both sang the same song, their voices perfectly pitched to one another. He could hear his own laughter melding with hers, just as their bodies had melded throughout their long nights together. And then she whispered something to him as she danced through drifts of powder-soft snow, something he strained to hear. But the words escaped into the frigid night air before he could catch them. He swung her in his arms before she escaped, too, and the scene changed.

They were no longer outside in the snowy coldness, but in the bedroom they’d shared for eighteen short months. He dropped her to the bed, her long cornsilk hair splaying across the pillow in streams of vibrant red. She said something to him again, but he still couldn’t hear. She smiled in gentle understanding, a smile he’d never before seen on his wife’s lush mouth. He approached, drawn by the warmth of her regard and the sweet promise in her hazel eyes.

He was helpless to resist. He wanted her. Needed her.

Took her.

The harsh bark of an ax biting wood joined with the relentless shriek of the snow-laden wind. Alessandro paused in his exertions long enough to slant a quick upward glance toward the roiling sky. It wouldn’t be long before snow began to fall in earnest. Already fat flakes drifted earthward. He shifted restlessly, plagued by the remnants of what had become an ongoing dream. Or perhaps he should call it a nightmare. It came closer to describing the choked, desperate sensations each incident stirred. Worse, he couldn’t seem to escape them. His grip tightened on the ax handle and he swore beneath his breath.

Why now? It had been two full years, dammit. Why after all this time had memories of Rhonda returned to haunt him? Sweat dripped into his eyes, despite the piercing rawness of the wind, and he shook his hair back from his brow, regarding the felled tree he’d been chopping with renewed determination. With luck, he could drive out the demons haunting him with some plain, old-fashioned manual labor. At least, that’s what he’d been telling himself for the past hour. Muscles straining, he returned to his task, falling into an easy rhythm of forceful strokes.

“Excuse me.”

It took two more blows before the quietly insistent words sank in. Driving the blade into the tree trunk, he turned. A woman stood nearby, watching him. She carried a bundle of quilts almost as large as she was. He suppressed a smile. Something about her—perhaps her snow-flecked silver-blond hair, or the huge powder-blue eyes, or the triangular, pixieish shape of her face—inspired an irresistible smile. He ruthlessly suppressed it, snagging his flannel shirt from the low-hanging branch of a nearby cedar.

“Can I help you?” he asked, thrusting his arms into the sleeves. “Are you lost?”

She waited, her gaze glittering with some strange emotion. What the hell was she staring at? “My car broke down,” she finally said, her voice lightly flavored with the honeyed lilt of the South. He’d heard that accent before and it didn’t bring back pleasant images. Was he never to escape the memory of Rhonda?

“I have a phone inside.”

Still she waited, her expression revealing an odd combination of hope and resignation. “I’m not from around here,” she offered hesitantly. “Maybe you noticed?”

He buttoned his shirt, studying her with an intensity equal to her own. “Yeah, the accent sort of gave you away.”

Releasing her breath in a whisper-soft sigh she approached, coming to a halt a scant foot away. “Please—”

Shifting the pile of quilts she held, she fixed her eyes on him. They were startling blue eyes, filled with unicorns and Santa Claus and impossible dreams. He instinctively took a step backward. He didn’t deal well with dreamers, not when he remained so steeped in reality. At his actions, the sweet illusions slipped from her eyes, leaving behind a soul-deep weariness. For the first time, he noticed the lavender crescents beneath each lower lid and the pale tautness of flesh over bone marking her exhaustion.

“I meant…” She took an instant to collect herself. Switching gears, Alessandro thought. This wasn’t the conversation she’d planned to have with him. He couldn’t begin to guess how he read her so easily. But there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that what she’d intended to say was far different from what he’d now hear. “I was hopin’ you’d know who to call. About my car.”

Finished with the buttons lining his shirt, he stuffed the tails into his jeans. “There aren’t many choices. You passed a small town in the valley before coming up here. They have a garage or two. With a storm moving in, you’ll want to get off the mountain as soon as you can.”

She closed her eyes for a split second, her lashes dusted with thick wet flakes. They clung for the briefest of moments before melting into diamond droplets. He frowned at the sight. They looked uncomfortably like shimmering tears. Great. A crying elf. Just what he needed for Christmas.

“You’re right,” she murmured at last. The snow came down harder, coating her and the bundle she carried in pristine white. “There is a storm moving in. Best I deal with it sooner rather than later.”

“We’d better get inside. Come with me.”

He opened the back door and stomped his feet to remove the mud and slush that clung to his boots. She followed his example, her stomping taking the form of a more delicate tapping on the throw rug. It was probably just as well since her shoes wouldn’t hold up to a serious pounding. They must be comfortable. He sure couldn’t think of any other reason she’d continue to wear hole-laden bits of leather that should have graced a trash can months ago.

He led the way through the kitchen and into a large two-story living area. A fire crackled in the hearth lending a cheerful warmth to the setting. She hesitated just inside the doorway before approaching the fireplace. Carefully, she set her bundle on the floor and crouched protectively next to it, holding her hands out to the flames.

“This is nice,” she murmured.

Without the quilts concealing her, he saw that she was slighter than he’d thought. In fact, she looked half-starved. Her denim coat had been repaired so many times, it was a wonder there was enough material left to hold it together. It also appeared to be about three sizes too large, the cuffs falling back to expose delicate wrists and long, capable fingers.

“Your coat doesn’t offer much warmth for the sort of weather we’re having,” he found himself saying. To his surprise, a hint of concern threaded his words.

“North Carolina wasn’t this cold when I left. Although I suspect it is by now.” She slanted him a quick glance, as if assessing his reaction to the casually offered information. “It took me a while to get here.”

His eyes narrowed. “What part of North Carolina?”

“Asheville.”

She pronounced it Ash-vul. He thought he’d recognized her accent. This only confirmed it. She came from the same region of the country as his ex-wife, though any similarities ended there. Rhonda had retained the accent while ridding herself of all traces of her mountain heritage. Her tastes ran toward the more sophisticated pleasures, rather than the traditional. He couldn’t say the same about the woman before him. He suspected she embodied the traditional, that it was steeped into her very bones.

He frowned, something about her comments rousing the analytical part of his personality. Something about the weather in the mountains…. “I’ve made the drive from North Carolina before,” he offered. “Depending on which route you take and how many hours you’re willing to drive each day, you can make it in as few as four days. I’d have thought you’d have seen snow in the mountains by now.”

“Not drivin’ poor little Babe. I’ve been on the road for nigh on a month.”

“Babe?”

“My car.” She flashed him a quick grin. “It seemed appropriate seein’ as she’s a shade on the pink side.”

“Pink.”

Her grin widened. It was full and generous and came with an infectious ease that suggested she smiled often, though he had the feeling she hadn’t found occasion to smile much recently. It also gave her a mischievous appearance that sat at odds with the nervous tension he sensed lying just beneath the surface.

“Yeah, pink. Cartoon-pig pink, to be exact. I have to confess, it does rouse comment.”

“I don’t wonder,” he muttered. “Your car is in such bad shape it took you a month to get here?”

“Pitiful, isn’t it? Though it wasn’t just the car.” She broke off and turned her head to study the flames crackling cheerfully in the hearth. “There were other considerations.”

Financial, he read between the lines. That explained the shoes and threadbare coat. “Worked your way across, did you?”

“It got me here,” she acknowledged.

“Here?”

She froze. Slowly her hands dropped to her lap and she snatched a quick, shallow breath. “To California,” she managed to say.

He didn’t know why he felt the need to press the issue, since it wasn’t any of his business. “To this part of California?”

“San Francisco, to be exact.”

She responded readily enough, which sat at odds with her tension. He’d half expected her to refuse to answer. People with secrets weren’t often this forth-coming, and his little elf was chock-full of secrets. There wasn’t a single doubt about that. “This isn’t the best route between Asheville and San Francisco. In fact, I’d say this was quite a way off the beaten path.”

She bowed her head. “It’s where my road led. I just followed.”

“Very cryptic.” Time to bring an end to this nonsense and get her off his mountain and on her way. “Why don’t I find out about arranging for a tow before the weather deteriorates any further. I assume you’ll also want to stay at a nearby motel while you’re car’s being repaired?”

Exhaustion exploded in her face again, along with a painful helplessness. “Yes, please.”

“Is something wrong?” he felt compelled to ask. His mouth tightened at the inadvertent question. Apparently the Salvatore code of behavior hadn’t been eradicated, even after thirty-five years of hard living. He still had trouble resisting a damsel in distress, despite having learned that women were rarely in true distress and frequently expected more than a simple assist. Maybe that was why he’d been so attracted to Rhonda. For all her flaws, she’d been as independent as they came. Still… He sighed, following the dictates his father, Dom, had done his damnedest to instill from the cradle. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Her frantic gaze fastened on him, urged him to say something—do something. But what she expected of him, he couldn’t begin to guess. “Don’t you know?” she whispered.

Aw, hell. “I’m a man, sweetheart. You have to tell me what you want.” He offered a teasing grin. “Try simple, single-syllable words in short, concise sentences. That tends to work best with me.”

She hesitated, her desperation plain to see. Finally, she shook her head, her lashes dipping to conceal the flash of pain that burned in her expression. “No, thanks. The tow truck is enough for now.”

For now, huh? Why didn’t that surprise him? Without another word, he turned and crossed the room to his study. It only took a minute to place the call and secure a promise that the tow truck would pick up “Babe” within the next two hours. Alessandro checked outside. Taking note of the gathering gloom, he grimaced. It was only one in the afternoon and yet it already looked like sundown. If that truck didn’t make an appearance within the next thirty minutes, it wouldn’t be coming at all. Already the woman’s car was blanketed by a couple inches of brittle, icy snow, not a hint of pink showing through the glaze of white.

He glanced through the study door toward the living room. His guest hadn’t moved from her position in front of the fireplace. The reddish glow from the embers licked across her delicate profile, highlighting the small, straight nose, sweeping arch of her cheekbones and gently rounded chin. The paleness of her hair also reflected the firelight, changing the silvery color to a fiery rose. The short cap of silky strands feathered about her head in attractive disarray, making her look more elfin than ever. If it weren’t for the small frown drawing her brows together, the aura of Christmas-like enchantment would have been complete. At a guess, her thoughts weren’t pleasant ones.

He deliberately turned his back on her before he was tempted to try and take complete charge. Whatever problems plagued her weren’t any of his business. Checking the phone book, he placed the second call, determined to find her a place to stay for the night. Unfortunately, the two small motels in town were full, as was the ski lodge perched on the next mountain over. Apparently the promised storm had brought in the skiers and snowboarders from the coast. That didn’t leave him many options. If he couldn’t get his visitor’s car out of his driveway or find a place for her to wait out the storm, she wouldn’t be going anyplace anytime soon.

Damn. He rubbed the furrow creasing his forehead. This wasn’t how he’d planned to spend the next few days. He craved solitude. Time to think. Time to plan. Time to gather himself for action. Apparently the fates had conspired to make sure he didn’t get the time he needed.

Giving in to the inevitable, he crossed the room to join her. For some reason, she drew him, rousing protective instincts that had him crouching beside her in a solicitous manner. “Lou said he’d be here within the next couple hours to pick up your car. So, you might as well take off your coat and make yourself comfortable.”

He was close enough to see the rapid give-and-take of her breath and the slight flush that crept across her cheekbones. Was he responsible for that? Perhaps he made her nervous. It wouldn’t surprise him. As the tallest and broadest of all the Salvatore boys, he’d long been considered the most intimidating of the lot. And yet, if she found him intimidating, she’d have edged away.

Instead, she swayed closer, the softening of body and gaze betraying an underlying attraction. Was she even aware of her actions? It was as though she felt at ease with him, comfortable in his presence. He’d never had a woman react that way to him in such a short time. He found it had a powerful effect, one he neither anticipated nor wanted. A brief holiday affair wasn’t what he’d planned for the next week or so. There were other matters on his mind.

With an economy of motion, he helped her out of her coat and tossed it toward the couch. She wore a man’s plaid flannel shirt beneath, the cotton washed into baby-soft pliancy. It clung to her breasts and hips, looking more feminine than he thought it possible for flannel to look.

“So why are you up here all on your lonesome instead of sharin’ the holidays with your family?” she asked.

For a moment, he could only stare. How did she know about his family? “Come again?”

She jumped to her feet and plucked a photo from off the mantel, her movements filled with a vitality he suspected to be more characteristic than her earlier stillness. The picture was a recent one showing his beaming father surrounded by Alessandro, his five brothers, their various wives, his six-and-a-half-year-old niece and a healthy smattering of nephews. “This is your family, isn’t it?”

He relaxed slightly, nodding in acknowledgment. “Good guess.”

She stared at the photo with an acute longing almost painful to witness. “If I had a family this impressive, I’d rather spend Christmas with them, not all by my lonesome.”

“Who says I won’t be spending it with my family?”

“Instinct.” She glanced around the comfortable living room and at the personal belongings that had somehow worked their way out of his suitcases and were scattered about. “You look to be dug in for the winter.”

“Feminine instinct tells you all that, huh?”

“Well… Maybe a bit more than instinct,” she confessed.

More than feminine instinct? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that might be or what it might indicate. It threatened to build a connection between them he had no intention of encouraging. Even with that decision firmly in mind, he found himself responding. “You’re right,” he conceded. “This isn’t my favorite time of year. I prefer to go through it alone, instead of inflicting myself on my family.”

“Now that’s a shame.”

“They don’t mind.”

“I’m not so sure. Your poppa appears to be a loving man. I’ll bet he isn’t too happy about your decision.” She smiled down at the portrait. “I’m surprised he hasn’t told you as much. I’m guessin’ he’s the sort who doesn’t put up with any nonsense from his sons.”

She’d read a lot into a simple photo. The fact that most of what she’d said also happened to be true only made Alessandro all the more wary. “What I choose to do isn’t his concern.”

She laughed, shooting him a knowing look. “Of course it’s his concern. That’s what being part of a family is all about.”

He preferred not to talk about himself, despite her determination to do just that. “Is that how it is with your family?” he asked. Maybe the question would help turn the tables.

“Once upon a time it was. Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I only had a sister and she passed on two months ago.” She traced each member of the Salvatore clan with a blunt fingernail. “I… I still can’t hardly believe she’s gone.”

Aw, hell! “I’m sorry.” He squeezed her shoulder in gentle understanding. Once again, she leaned into his grasp, rather than pulling away from what most would regard as a stranger’s touch. A warmth stirred between them that had little to do with the heat blazing from the fireplace. It was a visceral reaction, one he couldn’t have governed even if he’d wanted to. Something about her drew him, held him, bound him. He couldn’t recall ever having such an intense and instantaneous connection with a woman before. Not even with Rhonda. “You must find this time of the year even more difficult to handle than I do.”

She inclined her head, layered strands of silvery-blond fluttering at her temples and across her brow. An image flashed through his mind, an image of his hands thrusting deep into the silken depths at the nape of her neck and feeling the soft caress of her hair rippling through his fingers, teasing the length of his jaw, feathering a tortuous path across his chest. He inhaled sharply and released her. Where the hell had that come from? Dredging up an ounce of common sense, he stepped away from more temptation than he could handle.

She took his abandonment with good grace. “I guess losing my sister makes me a mite sensitive about family.”

“Understandable.”

She returned the photo to the mantel with notable reluctance. Staring at the Salvatore clan for another moment, she set her chin at a determined angle and swiveled to face him. “Now, don’t let my sad news get you down,” she ordered briskly. “That wasn’t my intent. I just wanted to point out that family isn’t something you should take for granted. That’s all.”

“As I said… They understand.”

She gave a decisive nod. “I don’t doubt it for a minute. All the more reason to turn to them in your time of need.”

“My time of need?” Presumptuous little sprite. He was determined to bring her up short. “You may consider yourself qualified to lecture me about family, but I suggest you mind your own business. At a guess, you have more than your fair share of problems to deal with right now without worrying about mine.”

She brushed the verbal slap aside as though it were no more than a gentle reprimand. “And I’ll be dealin’ with them soon enough. But you’re a man with a family the size of a couple of football teams,” she persisted. “A man, moreover, who chooses to be all on his own at Christmas. That means you’re needy. And when a body’s needy there’s no better help than one’s family. Mark my words. If they knew you were heartsick, they’d be up here in a flash, every last one of them.”

Fury ripped through him. “First off, I’m not heartsick. Nor am I needy. What I am is a man who wants you to get the hell—”

She’d fixed those light blue eyes on him again and he found the words jamming in his throat before they could be spoken. He swore beneath his breath, using a flavorful range of Italian expletives. For some reason—maybe because they were the first he’d learned as an impressionable ten-year-old—they came more easily to mind. He gritted his teeth. The motels were full, he reminded himself. The weather was doing its level best to work itself into a full-fledged blizzard. And the woman blinking innocently up at him would be stuck as his guest for at least a day, if not two or three.

“What I am is a man in desperate need of a cup of coffee.” His voice had assumed the Italian under-tones it often acquired whenever he found himself in stressful situations. He could only hope she didn’t hear it, or if she did, didn’t understand the significance as clearly as his brothers would have. “Would you like one while you wait?”

If she guessed what he’d originally planned to say, she didn’t let on. “I’d appreciate that.” She swiped her hands across the seat of her jeans with an energetic slap. “Would you like me to fix it for you?”

“Now why would I want that?”

The softness of his voice gave her pause, but she shrugged it off with a smile. “Call it Southern hospitality.”

“My home, my hospitality. I’ll take care of it.”

“Sure you don’t need my help?”

There was something odd about this entire situation. Something about her that felt out of kilter. Nothing about her—from the abruptness of her arrival, to her strange reaction to him, to her meddlesome questions—made a bit of sense. Maybe once he’d reignited his brain cells with some caffeine he’d figure it out. Or better still, maybe he’d ask a few of the questions he should have when she’d first turned up on his doorstep.

“Why don’t you enjoy the fire while I fix us both a cup,” he suggested. “How do you take it?”

Her smile faded at his question, the vitality seeping from her. Now what had he said to prompt that reaction? She crossed to the couch and curled up at one end. “It’s a reasonable question,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “I take it white, thank you kindly. And having something of a sweet tooth, I wouldn’t object if you tossed in a lump or two of sugar.”

“Coming right up.”

It didn’t take long for him to brew a fresh pot of coffee. He used the opportunity to compose a long list of questions. Topping the list would be her name. He couldn’t believe they hadn’t introduced themselves. So much for hospitality, Southern or otherwise. Filling two oversize mugs with a helping of the extra-strong brew, he returned to the living room.

“Here you go, Miss…?”

He stood at the end of the couch, holding the two mugs of steaming hot coffee and frowned in disbelief. His visitor had fallen sound asleep. Incredible. This had to be the most bizarre day he’d experienced in a long time. He set the mugs on the coffee table and took a seat in a large wing chair near the fire. Dropping his feet on the ottoman, he stared broodingly at the woman.

What on earth was he to do with her? Even if Lou came for her car, there wasn’t anyplace for her to spend the night other than here. He glanced at the pile of quilts she’d deposited so carefully on his floor. She couldn’t have driven clear across the country with nothing more than the clothes on her back and a bunch of handmade quilts. He supposed he should check to see if she had any luggage in Babe’s trunk and bring it in. Once he had her unloaded, the matter of where she’d spend the night would be resolved and out of her hands by the time she awoke. No discussion, no argument. Then he could ask a few of those questions nagging at him.

As though in response to his intense regard, the quilts on the floor shifted. Before Alessandro could do more than bolt upright in his chair, a child dug out from under the colorful mountain. He sat for a moment, staring at the unfamiliar surroundings.

“What the…?”

At the sound of Alessandro’s voice, the child’s inky-dark gaze fastened briefly on him before shifting to the woman. Instantly, he broke into a wide grin that revealed eight serrated nubs, four teeth centered on the bottom and four on top. He didn’t call for his mother the way Alessandro’s niece and nephews had often done in similar circumstances, but crawled free of his temporary bed. Unsteadily gaining his feet, he made a determined beeline for his mother.

Alessandro caught the boy before he reached his goal. If ever a woman needed her sleep, this one did. He half expected a tearful response. But the boy didn’t utter a sound. With an expression of utter trust, he allowed Alessandro to return to the chair and promptly made himself comfortable by curling up against the broad chest supporting him and pointing his diapered bottom skyward. Popping a thumb in his mouth, the boy closed his eyes and returned to sleep.

Alessandro released his breath in a half laugh, half groan. Definitely an interesting day. Who’d have thought the elf had come toting a baby. No wonder she’d looked so exhausted. Working her way across country with an infant in tow couldn’t have been simple or easy. Aware that he’d be stuck in the chair for a while, he stretched out a hand toward his coffee mug. Unfortunately, he couldn’t reach it without getting up. He didn’t dare risk that.

Damn.

Shifting to a more comfortable position, he surrendered. Some things simply couldn’t be controlled. And those that couldn’t, he’d learned to endure. Time to start enduring. The boy’s small body generated a surprising amount of heat and Alessandro closed his eyes, sinking deeper into the leather chair cushions. Between the physical exertion of the morning and far too many sleepless nights due to his dreams of Rhonda, catching a little shut-eye struck him as an excellent idea.

A pervasive baby-scented warmth seeped into Alessandro’s bones. He liked the smell. It reminded him of… Of family. A slight smile relaxed the hard curves of his mouth and he tucked his bundle more securely beneath his chin. The dark silken hair caressed his jaw and a tiny heartbeat fluttered close to his own, vulnerable, yet determined. It was a reassuring sensation, an expression of new life.

His smile faded. Now he knew he must be exhausted. He was getting downright sappy. Babies weren’t adorable or reassuring. They were damp, noisy and they belonged in someone else’s arms. He’d tolerate this one for now. But as soon as the elf awoke, he’d dump the kid on her and keep a safe distance until they both left. That decided, Alessandro drifted off.

Sleep came immediately—a more peaceful sleep than he’d experienced in months.

CHAPTER TWO

Still seven days before Christmas…

SHE came to him again, all silk and sweetness and heady feminine perfume. Her hazel eyes were alight with laughter, laughter echoed in the eager, honeyed tones of her voice. Her enthusiasm knew no bounds—whether it was for a soft purple crocus pushing through its cap of snow, or for the spread of gourmet food he’d picked up in town, or simply for his touch. Everything brought her joy. And she returned that joy with her every act and deed.

She ate with gusto, spoke with vibrant enthusiasm, made love with unstinting generosity. He could see her more clearly now than in his previous dreams. She stood in a shaft of moonlight, caped in a satin cloak of pale strawberry hair, her nudity silvered with moonlight. She held out her arms in welcome, calling to him with her siren’s song.

He was helpless to resist. He wanted her. Needed her.

Took her.

“Alessandro…? Nick? Nicky! Where are you?”

The woman’s cry startled Alessandro and the boy he held. Reacting with impressive speed, he recovered his balance before they both toppled to the floor. “Easy,” he reassured the woman, his words sleep roughened. He climbed from the chair and approached. “I have him over here.”

She stood in front of the scattered quilts, trembling. “I’m sorry.” She thrust a hand through her hair and tousling the short, silky strands into further disorder. “It’s gotten so dark, I didn’t see you. I just saw… Saw…”

“Saw the empty blankets and thought—Nicky, is it?”

“Nick. I should call him Nick. Nicky’s a baby’s name and he’s not…” He heard the tears in her voice, heard, too, the quick, shallow give-and-take of her breath. “He’s not much of a baby anymore.”

Something about the intensity of her turmoil urged him to drag her into his arms and comfort her in all the ways a man best comforted a woman. No doubt it had something to do with her fear or perhaps the pervasive femininity that cloaked her. It drew him as nothing else could. But that option wasn’t available to him. So instead, he pitched his voice to soothe. “You saw the empty blankets and thought Nick had wandered off.”

“Yes. It scared me.”

Alessandro set the boy on the floor. With a gleeful cry, he toddled to the woman, flinging himself against her legs. She applauded his efforts with an uneven laugh and swung him into her arms, hugging him tight. He returned the hug with enthusiasm, bursting into an incomprehensive stream of baby babble. Alessandro suppressed a grin. For such a little guy, he had a ridiculously deep voice, the sound not much more than a gruff rumble. Even though there wasn’t a single recognizable word, the woman gave Nick her full attention until he finally ran dry. Finished relaying his information, he aimed a wet kiss at her mouth and then squirmed in her arms for release.

She obediently put him down before glancing at Alessandro. He found the wealth of unsuppressed emotion almost painful to observe. “Thank you for watching him.”

He shrugged, doing his best to ease her distress with an air of calm. He’d often found it worked best with his own family. They all had the regrettable tendency to respond with fiery passion to every situation, regardless of whether the development was a crisis or cause for celebration. He’d learned as a child that being the rock in the midst of the storm helped anchor everyone else. As he grew, his height and breadth only added to the image of strength and control.

“I don’t know how much watching I did,” he said. “Apparently Nick decided he hadn’t gotten enough sleep the first time ’round. So I offered to join him when he settled down for a second nap.”

“I didn’t hear him wake. I don’t understand it.” She dropped to her knees, folding the handmade quilts with swift, jerky movements at odds with her earlier gracefulness. “I kept him close so I’d hear.”

“You were sound asleep when I came back with the coffee. I decided not to disturb you when he woke, and fortunately, Nick proved cooperative.” Alessandro flipped on the overhead lights, driving the dusky shadows from the darkened room, and crossed to revive the dying fire. “You looked like you needed your sleep.”

She confirmed his guess with an abrupt nod. “I was on the road most of the night.”

Removing the fireplace screen, he tossed a couple of logs onto the grate. “Why was that?”

She started to answer, hesitating at the last minute. He suspected she’d rather not explain, but after a moment’s consideration, she shrugged. “You might as well know the truth.” Digging in her pocket she pulled a wad of crumpled bills and a handful of change. She set it on the table next to the two mugs of cold coffee, smoothing each bill with great precision. “That’s every last penny I have to my name.”

Alessandro winced. Replacing the fire screen, he rocked back on his heels and did a swift, silent count. Not good. At most she had a whole twenty-five bucks heaped there. “Kind of tough to get a car repaired with that. Not to mention putting a roof over your head and food on your table.”

Nick toddled over to examine the money and she scooped it up, returning it to her pocket. “I’m not afraid of hard work. I suspect I can clean rooms in exchange for a place to stay.”

“Not likely.” No doubt that was one of the ways she’d worked her way from North Carolina to California. Too bad it wouldn’t work here. Giving himself time to think, he crossed to a closet on the far side of the room and opened the door. Spying the box he wanted, he dragged it out and presented it to Nick. The boy took one look at the overflowing carton of toys and crowed in delight. “Have at it, kid. My treat.”

The woman laughed in amazement. “Goodness gracious! That’s more toys than he’s seen in all his born days. Come to think of it, it’s more toys than I’ve ever seen.”

Alessandro grinned. “You saw my family photo. With all those kids, we keep the cabin well-supplied with playthings. I think the general consensus was better safe than sorry.”

“It must make a nice treat for them. I’ll bet they love coming here. Though your idea of a cabin and mine are somewhat different. Where I come from a cabin is a whole lot smaller and rougher. No more than a one or two room affair.” Her gaze swept the cypress-trimmed cathedral ceiling. “Not a mansion like this.”

“True. But cabin sounds so much more modest.”

Her mouth curved into a quick smile which faded to an apprehensive frown. He could tell she’d just absorbed his earlier comment about the local motels. “You said…not likely. Why isn’t it likely that I can clean rooms in exchange for a place to stay?”

“The motels in the area are booked solid between now and the New Year.”

She stilled. “You neglected to mention that earlier.”

“I thought I’d save the news until the tow truck showed up.” He crossed to the window and glanced outside. The storm hadn’t lessened any. Rather it had grown worse. A white lump remained in the middle of the driveway, its blanket of icy snow far thicker than it had been earlier. It didn’t come as any surprise to find Babe hadn’t been moved. “Though I doubt that tow’s going to happen. This storm hit harder than anyone anticipated.”

“When do you think he’ll come?”

“No time soon.” Alessandro threw her a warning look over his shoulder. “Not that you have enough in your pocket for a tow, let alone car repairs, even if Lou does put in an appearance.”

To his amazement, she smiled confidently. “I’ll work something out with the mechanic. I’ll bet I can pick up a waitressing job. I’m experienced at that. And if the motels are as busy as you say, they’re bound to need a part-timer to lend a hand.” She practically vibrated with cheerful optimism. Quite a switch from her earlier distress. Based on what he’d observed so far, he suspected her current attitude came closer to reflecting her true personality. “Maybe someone will be kind enough to take in a boarder. A widow lady or a pensioner. They always appreciate extra pocket money.”

He deliberately wiped all inflection from his voice. “Could be.” Though he doubted it. There were usually a slew of college students only too eager to earn a few bucks over the holidays, especially if it meant they could ski during their off-hours. “You still haven’t explained what you’re doing here.”

“Time enough to deal with that later,” she retorted briskly. “I think the first order of business is to figure out where Nick and I are going to stay for the night.”

“There isn’t any choice. You’ll have to stay here.”

“Look, Alessandro, before you make offers you might not want to keep, there’s something I need to—” She broke off, her expression switching from determined to appalled.

He stiffened. Alessandro. She’d called him Alessandro. “How the hell do you know my name?” he questioned with biting softness. Now that he thought about it, this was the second time she’d used it. She’d called to him when she’d first awoken, before panicking about Nick. If he hadn’t been jerked out of a sound sleep, he’d have caught her error sooner. “We never introduced ourselves.”

“I can explain—”

“Have we met?” He approached, crowding her against the sofa. The quilts tumbled from her arms to the floor again, cascading to her feet in a stream of vibrant color. “Or is this some sort of setup? Who the hell are you?”

She stared at him, unicorns and Santa Claus and impossible dreams returning to her eyes. He halted abruptly, unwilling to invade further into such alien territory. “Don’t you remember me?” she pleaded.

“Should I?”

“I was hopin’ you might. We met a while back.”

He swept her with a swift, penetrating glance, struggling to find something even remotely familiar about her. From what he could see of her beneath the ill-fitting clothing, there was lean strength in the fine-boned frame and an appealing delicacy to her features. She met his gaze unflinchingly, her expression open and straightforward, if a shade wary. Not even the unusual blue shade of her eyes struck a chord, though the stoic resolve reflected there gave him pause. No. He’d have remembered if they’d ever met.

“It must have been a while back,” he said, giving her the benefit of the doubt. “Are you related to my ex-wife? Did we meet at the wedding?”

Her jaw clenched. “No. We met two years ago this coming March.”

March? She’d chosen an interesting time period, one with a big, black hole right in the middle of it. His mouth tightened. Or did she already know that? After all, the events of that month weren’t a secret. He analyzed her expression, searching for some clue to what she had planned. Something wasn’t right about this—about her. He’d suspected it from the start. If he hadn’t been so distracted by his reaction to her, he’d have pursued that sense of wrongness sooner. Whatever the case, he’d had enough.

He moved away, giving them both some much-needed breathing space. They might never have met before—at least, that he could remember—but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have been interested in getting to know her more intimately, if circumstances had been different. He was forced to acknowledge the underlying attraction, an irrational, if undeniable firing of the senses. Still… Common sense urged caution—and he’d learned through years of rocky experience to listen to his common sense.

“Okay, fine. Let’s say I believe your claim that we’ve met before. You just happened to be driving by when your car broke down?” he questioned skeptically. “Your arrival here is sheer coincidence?”

She lifted her chin, inherent pride implicit in every line of her body. “No, it’s not coincidence. I knew you’d be here and came to find you.”

Alessandro folded his arms across his chest. “How did you guess where I’d be? The cabin belongs to my entire family.”

“Your brother, Luc, gave me directions. I visited your family business—Salvatores—before coming.”

This tale was getting worse by the minute. “You knew enough about me to track me down in San Francisco? At work, no less?”

“Yes.”

“And Luc, after only one meeting, told you where to find me?” He fired the question at her. “Or have you met him before, too.”

“Yes! No.” She thrust her hands into her hair and shoved the flyaway bangs out of her face. Taking a deep breath, she fought for control. “No, I’d never met Luc or any of your family before showin’ up on their doorstep. And yes, Luc gave me directions after just one meeting.”

“And why would he do that?”

“So I could give you—” Her voice broke, but she made a swift recovery. “So I could give you something.”

“What?”

Her hands closed into fists and her mouth worked for an instant before she managed to get the words out. “I came to give you Nick. He’s…” A sheen of tears glistened in her eyes. “He’s your son.”

Fury poured through him in waves. “Who the hell are you and what sort of sick joke is this?” He kept his voice low, but it still bit. She flinched, though she didn’t back down.

“It’s not a joke.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you and I were lovers?” His laugh held a harsh edge. “Pull the other one, sweetheart. There isn’t a chance that once I’d had you in my bed I’d forget such a memorable occasion.”

Her gaze fastened on him for an endless moment and he felt as if she were searching for something deep within him, fighting to elicit a response. Whatever she wanted, he didn’t possess. Rhonda had exorcised most of the gentler human qualities from him long ago. The silence stretched between them, drawn taut with unmistakable tension. It wasn’t quite a battle of wills, but it definitely resonated with the sort of emotional turbulence that had existed between men and women since the beginning of time.

At long last, her lashes flickered downward, cutting off her thoughts. No doubt she was considering her options. Not that she had any. He had no intention of having her responsibilities dumped on him. If she hadn’t already figured that out, he’d make it crystal clear in the next couple of minutes.

“Are you ready to tell me the truth?” he demanded. “Are you doing this in the hopes of getting money from me? Or are you just tired of taking care of your kid and looking for a convenient place to abandon him?”

She didn’t react with the indignant anger his words should have roused. To his amazement, compassion crept into her gaze, a compassion he neither wanted nor needed. “You sound so cynical.”

“I’m feeling rather cynical right now.”

“Nick’s your son, Alessandro. A simple blood test will prove it.”

“When and where was he conceived?” His mouth twisted. “And perhaps I should ask…with whom?”

She stiffened, his words clearly firing her resolve. Her mouth firmed and her posture straightened to painful erectness. Determination ignited the vividness of her eyes, eclipsing the earlier compassion, and she faced him with a ferocity at direct odds with her fey appearance. “It was two years ago next March. In fact, Nick was conceived on the first day of spring in a pretty little cabin on the outskirts of Asheville, North Carolina. A real cabin, rustic and simple and hewn from the surrounding trees with loving hands and hearts. He’ll be a year old on Christmas Day. His mother’s name is Meg. Meg Williams. Ring any bells, Mr. Salvatore?”

Meg. He tried out the name, finding it had a disturbing familiarity, though he could have sworn he’d never met anyone by that name. “I was in Asheville that March.”

“So you admit it?”

“No way, sweetheart. I’m not admitting anything.”

“You accuse me of trying to escape my responsibilities. What about you?” Despair drove the sweet illusions from her eyes. “Are you going to stand there and deny your part in Nick’s existence? I wouldn’t have thought so poorly of you, Alessandro. You always struck me as the upstanding sort.”

“Are you saying we had a one-night stand while I was there?” he forced himself to ask. He didn’t want to concede even that much. Unfortunately, he wasn’t in any position to defend his innocence.

“I’m not saying any such thing. I’m flat-out telling you it happened. And it wasn’t a one-night stand. You had a two-week relationship with Nick’s momma, Meg. You also claimed to love her.” A spark of indignation surged through her voice, pain underscoring every word. “Are those sorts of affairs so common, you don’t even remember? Or was it the woman you were with who proved forgettable?”

He wasn’t ready to tell her about his days in Asheville. He needed time to analyze her angle before revealing any chinks in his armor. “They’re not common. Which is all the more reason why I’d remember fathering a child, particularly if the relationship was as serious as you’re suggesting.” There was another factor insuring that Nick couldn’t be his. “I’m also scrupulous about practicing safe sex. I don’t consider it a woman’s sole responsibility and never have.”

“Nor do you trust women enough to allow them to take the responsibility.”

Her words had a flat finality that stopped him cold. “How do you know that?”

“Your youngest brother, Pietro, made that mistake. Your niece, Toni, is the result. And even though Pietro married Toni’s momma and their marriage has been a lovin’ one, you were determined not to allow a similar accident to happen to you. At least, that’s what you told Meg.” Her mouth curved into a bittersweet smile. “I guess you could say fate has a flair for the ironic.”

Once again he felt a disturbing familiarity with the name. “Is that you? You’re Meg?”

She hesitated for so long, he didn’t think she’d answer. “I’m Lauren Williams,” she eventually said, her voice rife with a bone-deep exhaustion. “Meg is…was my sister.”

“Was?”

Lauren’s obvious distress aroused another surge of the protective instinct he’d experienced earlier. What was it about her that cut through the defenses he’d built over the years? Her waiflike appearance? His appreciation for the inherent strength that underscored her every word and action? Or was it simply a gut-level attraction to her as a woman?

“My sister died a few months ago, remember? I mentioned it earlier.”

“Right. I’m sorry.” He didn’t want to push when she was so obviously upset, but he didn’t have any choice. “I assume she’s the one who told you I’m Nick’s father.”

“Yes.”

“Is there any possibility she’s mistaken?” He couldn’t think of a more tactful way to phrase the question.

She acknowledged the effort with a slight smile. “None.”

Alessandro frowned as another thought occurred to him. “You said we’d met. When was that?”

“My sister and I were together that first day. You and Meg hit it off from the start.”

“Where was this?”

“At a small restaurant tucked in the foothills outside of Asheville. A place called LuLu’s.”

He shook his head in frustration. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember. Do you have any way at all of substantiating your claim?”

She paused again and he knew without a doubt that she was keeping something from him. She’d hesitated like that once before, but he couldn’t remember what question he’d asked at the time. He’d make damned sure he paid attention from here on out.

“The blood test will substantiate my claim. You don’t need more than that.”

Need or deserve? Alessandro couldn’t help but wonder. He thrust a hand through his hair and paced toward the hearth. The fire licked hungrily at the logs he’d added. The ruby embers beneath the grate hissed, relieved by an occasional pop and the accompanying shower of sparks. Lauren acted so certain, he had the nasty suspicion she might be telling the truth—at least, the truth as she knew it. He glanced uneasily at the boy who was sitting on the floor by the carton of toys, examining each and every one of them with an intentness surprising in one so young. Could Nick actually be his? Could he have a son?

He dismissed the possibility with a quick shake of his head. No. No way. For one thing, he didn’t go in for one-night stands—or even two-week stands. And for another, Lauren was right. He didn’t take foolish chances or trust his partner to handle something as vital as birth control. If he’d been with this Meg, he’d have taken precautions. Children weren’t in the foreseeable future—at least, not in his foreseeable future.

He swung around to face Lauren. “So what now?”

“I’m hopin’ you’ll want to get to know your son.” She smiled at the boy with a tenderness that transfigured her. With that simple curve of her lips she went from elf to angel. “A boy should be close to his father.”

“And if the test proves I’m not Nick’s father?”

She didn’t appear concerned by the possibility. “That’s not going to happen. Even if you don’t believe me, look at him. He’s the image of you.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “He looks like a typical baby. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t bear any resemblance to a baby whatsoever.”

The corners of her mouth trembled into another smile and a soft, silvery laugh escaped. “No, you don’t. I was referring to the shape of his face and color of his hair and eyes. They’re the same pitch-black as yours.”

“I’m not the only man in the world with dark eyes.”

She sighed. “True. That’s why I’m suggesting a paternity test. That way you’ll know for certain.”

“I’ll need to make some calls to find out where we can have the procedure done.”

“If it’s too far away, it’ll have to wait,” she informed him. “I still need to have someone fix my car. And to be honest, I’m exhausted.”

She looked it, too. Not that he’d allow sympathy to interfere with his handling of the situation. Something didn’t add up and until he found out what, he refused to trust anything she said. “I gather that means your car really did break down? It wasn’t just an excuse?”

“It pulled into your driveway on a hope and a prayer. It won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Convenient.”

He’d succeeded in angering her. Just as well. Having her angry would make it easier for him to maintain an emotional distance. After all, he’d had years of experience being the calm in the midst of unending storms of passion. If there were two qualities Salvatores were renowned for, it was passion and charm, qualities that had both managed to pass him by. He’d found that the more worked up those around him became, the calmer his own reactions. If Lauren chose to respond like a Salvatore, it would make his job all the easier.

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s not the least bit convenient,” she retorted. “I can’t even drive myself to the store for food or diapers.”

“In that case, I hope you have enough to last the next couple of days.”

“Why?”

“Because neither of us are leaving here anytime soon.”

She darted to the window and stared out, her dismay obvious. “I can’t even see my car.”

“If I were a suspicious man, I’d say your timing was opportune.”

“You are a suspicious man and my timing was lousy,” she informed him absently.

She knew he was a suspicious man? An ungovernable annoyance flashed through him and he released his breath in a silent sigh. So much for being the dispassionate Salvatore. “If you intend to keep up the pretense that we’ve met before, it’s going to be a long couple of days.”

“Pretense?” Lauren turned to face him. She was framed by the window and backlit by a tempest of snow swirling on savage eddies of wind. He had trouble reading her expression, but not the indignation of her tone. “It’s not a pretense.”

“So you’ve said. Time will tell.” He inclined his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Come on. I missed out on a cup of coffee earlier. I suspect we could both use a cup now.”

“First I’d like to unload the car. It’s been a while since I last changed Nick.” At the sound of his name, the boy glanced up from the toys spread around him and beamed. She returned his grin with one of her own. Alessandro couldn’t help but notice the unmistakable resemblance between them. They both shared the same wide, generous mouth that slid into a smile with a natural ease he envied. “He’s also going to be hungry for a snack soon.”

“Any snacks you left in the car will be frozen by now. You’ll have to see if I have anything that will do.”

“In that case, let’s hope you have yogurt with fruit in it. Nick likes it mixed in with just about everything he eats.”

“Everything? You’re kidding.”

“’Fraid not.” She ticked off on her fingers. “He eats peach yogurt with his applesauce. Raspberry yogurt with peas. Strawberry-banana yogurt with chicken. As long as there’s yogurt mixed in with his meal, down it goes, slick as pig grease.”

“Yogurt and chicken? That’s disgusting.”

“Not according to your son.”

Damn. It only took a brief two-minute conversation for her to slip beneath his defenses and bewitch him into relaxing his guard. How the hell had she pulled that off? No one had ever managed it in such a short time. Not even Rhonda. “Don’t call him that.”

“What? Your son?” Her jaw jutted out at a defiant angle. “Facts are facts, Alessandro. That’s who Nick is. Protesting the truth isn’t going to change it any.”

“His paternity hasn’t been established to my satisfaction.”

“Maybe not, but the test will take care of that minor detail. Meanwhile, I suggest you start getting used to the idea.”

“Wrong. What we’re going to do is take this situation one step at a time. No games. No assumptions. And no great leaps of faith. Until I have positive proof in hand, we keep this as impersonal as possible.”

She stared at him in stunned disbelief. Then the corners of her eyes crinkled and her mouth tilted into a broad, quivering grin. “Oh, Alessandro. I should have known. Any other Salvatore would have taken one look at Nicky and allowed emotion to take over.”

“I’m not like the others.”

“True. But you’d begun to change. You were learning. The weeks you spent with Meg opened you up. It was quite amazing to watch. Maybe if you’d stayed longer in North Carolina, the changes would have taken.” She caught her lip between her teeth. “Maybe Meg would have made more of an impact.”

“Don’t count on it.”

She held up her hands in casual surrender, though he could tell his words had impacted harder than he’d intended. He’d have to be more cautious in the future. There was a difference between disengaging his emotions and acting like a coldhearted bastard. “All right, fine. If you’d rather keep your distance from your—” She broke off with a rueful shrug. “From Nick? Feel free. He’s young enough that it won’t do him any lasting harm, especially so long as I’m here to give him as much love and attention as he could want. The one you’ll be hurtin’ most is yourself.”

“Another of your Southern homilies?” No doubt they were as much a part of her as her pride and the mountain spirit that imbued her with its essence. “Just what I need. A pint-size sprite without funds or a roof over her head landing on my doorstep and taking it upon herself to lecture me about my familial obligations and emotional welfare.”

“Oh, I don’t think the South has exclusive claim on that particular homily.” She poked her index finger in his direction. “And I may be a pint-size woman without kith or kin, other than Nick, but at least I have my priorities straight—family first, last and in between. And at least I’m not hiding here when I should be with my relatives. Nor am I withholding my emotions from an innocent child.”

“A child who might not be my son.”

Her eyes flashed from a soft, powder-blue to an electric color that blazed with incandescent heat. “Why should that even matter? Do you only parcel out your affection to those you deem worthy? It can’t possibly be because you’re not sure whether or not he’s true family. Family doesn’t matter to you all that much, or you’d be with them, especially at this time of year.”

An unaccustomed anger ripped through him. “Drop it, Lauren. It’s none of your business.”

“It is when it affects Nick. He deserves better than what you have to offer.” Her voice softened and she held out a hand in appeal. “Where’s your heart, Alessandro? What happened to the man I knew in North Carolina? How could you have forgotten your weeks there? It meant something to you. I know it did.”

He refused to explain, refused to believe the man she described even existed. “Assuming you’re telling me the truth, that Alessandro is lost. He has been for a long time.”

She flinched from his words, rejecting them with a quick, adamant shake of her head. “I can’t accept that.”

“You’re going to have to.”

She fought an internal battle, one he’d have given a hefty share of his bank balance to have listened in on. Was she going to call an end to this game? Or was she trying to determine her next line of attack? Once she realized emotional blackmail didn’t work, perhaps she’d employ logic. Or maybe she’d wrap her arms around him and slip her wide, generous mouth over his. He closed his eyes. Oh, man. He definitely needed that coffee.

Finally, she gave a brisk nod. “I guess that’s that. If you can’t—or won’t—remember, I have no choice.”

He’d regret asking this next question, but he asked anyway. “No choice about what?”

“I’m gonna find what you lost. I’m going to dig around until I uncover that other Alessandro.”

Aw, hell. “No, Lauren. You’re not.”

“Oh, it’s not for your sake.” Determination settled over her. “Nick needs a daddy who can love him. He deserves to have the man I met in North Carolina. And I’m not leaving here until that’s what he gets.”

CHAPTER THREE

Six days before Christmas…

SHE came to him again, all silk and sweetness and heady feminine perfume. They were outside in the snow, playing in the drifts like children. He could hear his own laughter, deep and clear, ringing through the crisp mountain air. She’d done that for him, he realized in amazement. She’d returned to him the joy of laughter. It had been a long time since he’d taken pleasure in the sheer simplicity of such a fundamental act.

She peeked at him from behind the trunk of an ancient oak, its mighty limbs bearing the hint of newborn leaves through the dusting of winter’s last snow. She called to him. And finally, finally, he could hear her lilting voice. It joined them on some level, resonated straight through to the core of him, softening the hardness within and connecting with the most elemental part of his spirit. It was the voice of the mountains, rolling and proud and solid, and silvered with a generous helping of humor.

“Time’s a’wastin’, boy. Catch me if you can.”

“Who are you calling boy?” he demanded, charging after her.

Her bright laughter snagged at a place that had once held his heart, filling it, expanding it, inflaming it. The chase didn’t last long. He captured her in his arms and they tumbled into a bed of powder-soft snow. Her long, cornsilk hair spread around her in a halo of rosy-gold, framing Rhonda’s bold, handsome features and distinctive hazel eyes.

“Home is where your heart is, darlin’,” she whispered. “Where do you keep your heart?”

“You’ll always have it.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“And you’ll always have mine.”

She lifted her mouth to his and he was helpless to resist. He wanted her. Needed her.

Took her.

Alessandro awoke with a start, the fragments of his dream clinging with relentless determination. He groaned. Rhonda again. It defied understanding—not just because he continued to dream about a woman he hadn’t loved in years, but also because the events in his dreams had never happened. It took a full minute to separate fantasy from reality and realize what had disturbed his sleep.

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