The Baby Gift

“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?”