Playboys' Christmas Surprises: A Christmas Baby Surprise

After finishing with Thomas, she set him down for a nap. Kissed his forehead. Filled with love for the making of her little family. She’d sketch him next.

On tiptoe, she made her way downstairs, grabbed her new sketchbook and pencils and crawled back into bed. Sunlight streamed over Porter’s face.

She began to outline him. Rough strokes on paper. She worked first on his face. She started to lose herself in the drawing, the world ebbing away from her.

Until a knock sounded from behind her. Alaina practically leaped out of her skin.

“Sleeping Beauty’s still asleep, I see.” Her mother-in-law called from the door, a diamond-and-silver snowflake broach pinned to the collar of her shirt. Porter let out a loud snore and turned on his side.

“Have breakfast with me? I could use some toast. And girl time.” She motioned for Alaina to follow her down the hall.

“Sounds great. I am a bit hungry myself.” Alaina stacked her sketchbook and pencils on the bedside table. If she stayed here much longer, she might not be able to resist temptation. She needed some space to gather her thoughts—and her mother-in-law might well have insights that could help her decide how to move forward in the marriage.

She hurried after Courtney into the hallway toward the back stairway leading to the kitchen.

When she’d caught up to her mother-in-law, Courtney glanced over her shoulder on her way down the steps. “I’ve never seen you draw before. You know, you get the same look on your face as Porter does when he is working on a building design.”

“I do?”

She nodded, clasping the polished steel railing. “Porter’s always been a hands-on guy. Started back in middle school. He was always building things. Once, he built a table for me for Christmas. He was sixteen then. Said he’d loved the sweat equity of the project. The ability to create something from nothing. I guess that’s a bit like art, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it’s actually a similar process. Built not bought. I think that’s why this house feels foreign to me. It’s cookie cutter decor in a lot of ways other than some of the artwork. I’ll take some imperfections in my decorations if it’s coming from scratch.”

“You sound like him. When he built that table, I think that’s when he decided he didn’t need me anymore.” Courtney gave a slight laugh. But the sound was tinged with sadness.

They turned the corner into the kitchen and sat on the bar stools facing a view of the water, where a holiday boat parade was organizing. Festively decorated boats of all sizes congregated. A blow-up Santa in a bathing suit sat on the deck of one, but most of the vessels were outfitted more simply with green garland boughs.

“I’m sure he still needed you then. You helped shape him into the person he is today.” A person she was still trying to understand. To relearn.

Her mother-in-law’s eyebrows arched as she popped two slices of bread in the toaster. “Sometimes I wonder. He’s built every house he’s lived in as an adult. Sometimes I’m surprised he didn’t build the yacht, too.”

Alaina said, “Whoa, wait. We own one of those yachts?”

“You do. Usually my son has me stay out there rather than in the house, which, quite frankly, is an amazing spin on a mother-in-law suite. But still. We’ve always had troubles, my son and I.”

Her mother-in-law straightened the rings on her fingers before she continued. “You know, I was madly in love with Porter’s father. I was young—and the whole world seemed open to me when we were together. But he had other dreams. Other desires. He left shortly after Porter was born.”

“I’m sure that was difficult. Raising Porter alone and working so much.”

“Would you like the truth, Alaina? I was—and still am—brilliant in the courtroom. I can dissect a case like nobody’s business. But motherhood? That never came to me. Not like it does to you.”

Alaina nodded sympathetically, but didn’t say anything. She knew Courtney had her quirks, but she never doubted that the woman loved her son. Family was just complicated. Alaina felt as if she knew that better than anyone. Funny what a few weeks in a coma had done for her perspective.

Porter was a man whom she was only just beginning to understand. But the tension between her husband and mother-in-law was starting to make sense to her. Courtney was all about buying premade items. It’s why she’d insisted on the night nurse tending to Thomas.

But Porter—Porter was a man intent on creation. On actively building. He’d built a construction empire the same way he’d built that table. To prove he could take scraps and turn them into something usable. He’d built his life from the ground up, even though he could have easily used his mother’s fortune. He hadn’t backed down from the work it required.

And what about her? Alaina had spent the past two weeks in the haze of amnesia. Afraid of what she’d find if she pressed too hard. But Porter was aware of their history. Aware of their struggles. And he was still dedicated to their family. Maybe she needed to become aware, too.

And that meant digging around in the dirt a bit. And possibly talking to Sage.

As Alaina poured two cups of coffee in holiday mugs painted with angels, she made up her mind. Today was a day for exploring. And she would start with all the pieces of her past—even the uncomfortable ones. The time had come to reconstruct her life.

Starting with finding out more about how and why they’d purchased that yacht when she could have sworn such flashy purchases weren’t her style.

Eight

Porter was still stunned over Alaina suggesting they go out to the yacht. He couldn’t recall her ever suggesting that. In fact, the eighty-foot Sunseeker had been a contentious issue between them since he’d bought it two years ago. But he wasn’t turning his back on the chance to get closer to her.

In the past, she’d always hated the vessel. Said it was too showy. Too flashy. It screamed their wealth, and that bothered her down to the core.

But Porter had never felt that way about the purchase. To him, it represented freedom. A chance to leave the world behind. To be completely untethered from the responsibilities of work and reliant on himself. And yes, he’d hoped it would offer them more time to relax together, bring them closer as their marriage began to fray.

The Florida winter sun warmed him. The captain had dropped anchor and gone into town about a half hour ago. The luxury craft happily rocked with the waves and the current, other boats far enough away to give him and Alaina a sense of privacy he welcomed. Water lapped against the sides and a healthy breeze coated the deck. They’d intended to take Thomas with them, but his mother had offered to watch him. She had even insisted. Though they did hire a backup sitter for all the tasks Courtney was not enthusiastic about performing.

He’d come out of the cabin with two bottles of water. One for him and one for Alaina.

Every day he was feeling closer to her, closer than he could remember feeling before. They were building something, a new connection. And since last night he felt a change between them. Something that had been missing for a long time before the accident.

He took a moment to appreciate her. Just the way she was in this moment. She’d dressed in layered tank tops and leggings, flip-flops half on, half off. She was sprawled on the white cushioned deck chair. Hunched over a pad, sketching furiously. The wind teased her blond hair. She was beautiful.

“May I see your drawings?”

She sketched with charcoal, not looking up. “Are you sure you want to look? There are ones of you in here.”

“Did you draw me as a gargoyle? Or a cyclops?” he asked, lounging back in a deck chair and propping his foot on the bolted down table between the seating.

She glanced up. “Why would I do that?”

“Since we talked about our past arguments.”

Fish plopped in the brief silence before she answered, “You’ve been nothing but understanding and patient with me, with this whole situation. No matter what else happens, I won’t forget that.”

“Whatever else happens?” Trepidation kinked the muscles in his neck.

“If you get tired of having an amnesiac wife.”

“I could never get tired of you.”

Her cheeks flushed pink as she glanced at him through her eyelashes. His mind swirled, thinking of last night. Of her body pressed against his and the scent of her coconut shampoo. And how he’d wanted so much more than to just sleep next to her.

How he still wanted that.

She seemed to read his thoughts, her blush fading. Awareness flitted across her face. An expression that almost looked like longing.

The sound of another fish jumping out of the water brought them back to reality. He shook his head.

She passed over the pad of drawings. “Here. Feel free to look.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear and chewed her nail as he flipped through the book.

There were pages upon pages of sketches. Some scenes of the beach house. Some of boats in the harbor. Thomas in a Santa hat.

All so damn good, the details grabbing his heart. “You’ve been busy.”

“I feel like there are thoughts needing to pour out. I don’t have to think or talk, just... Oh, I don’t know how to describe it other than to say it’s like meditation.”

He flipped to the next page. Half-finished drawings of him sleeping. She seemed to fixate on his face. Mostly his eyes. As if she was trying to figure out something about him. Her sketches were beautiful. Hyperrealistic. He’d forgotten how talented she was with charcoal and pencils.

The last sketch in the book sucked the air from his chest. It was a montage of images. Items of their joint past. Did she remember?

It was a scene of a room. On the desk, there was a globe with a cracked stand. A Moroccan rug on the ground. All souvenirs—all representing moments in their life together. If she didn’t know what these were, what did the drawings mean? Why had she stumbled onto these particular items? He couldn’t decide whether to tell her or not. What would be helpful?

Truth. As much as he could give her.

“There are items here that you received over those missing years, gifts I gave you.”

She gasped. “Like what?”

“The rug right here.” He pointed to the sketch, careful not to smudge the material, “It was the first gift I ever gave you. When you were living in that tiny apartment with the tile in your bedroom. You said you hated how cold your feet were in the mornings. Even then, I knew you liked those rich colors. Items with a bit of history. I picked it up on a business trip.”

She considered his words, staring hard at the sketch. “I woke up with this scene in my head. I thought it was from a dream...but maybe my memories are trying to come back after all.”

“It’s quite possible.”

“What else is from our past?”

“The globe with the cracked stand.”

“That’s a strange gift. Where’s it from?” She crinkled her nose and adjusted her sunglasses again.

“Well it didn’t start out cracked. It cracked in our move. But I got it for our one-year anniversary. It was a blank globe. Ceramic. You painted it. It’s got quotes over where the countries ought to be. Quotes about art and life. I’ve always thought you should replicate it and sell them.”

She smiled at him. “Do you think the art supplies gift made me think of that?”

“Could be.”

“What about being on the yacht? What will that help me remember?”

“Honestly? Arguing. You were angry with me for buying this. You thought the money could have been better spent. But then we fought about pretty much everything then.”

“I appreciate you being honest.”

“I want you to trust me. You believe that, right?”

“I do. I’m just not sure you want me to remember everything. You seem very into this fresh start. All the control is on your side since you have the pieces of the past and I only get what other people tell me.”

He couldn’t deny the truth in that. He owed her more, better. Hell, he owed her the unvarnished truth, but couldn’t bring himself to go quite that far when they were so close to having everything they’d wanted. Time on the yacht offered them a window of time away from the world and he needed to embrace that fully.

“Alaina, I have an idea. Let’s use this time to pretend we’re two different people. Strangers who’ve met and are stuck on this ostentatious yacht together. Strangers attracted to each other and ready to get to know each other.” He loosened the cap on the water bottle and handed it to her.

His gaze met hers, and he could swear the air crackled with the static of a lightning strike even though there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

She grabbed it and flashed him a grin. “I’m game.”

* * *

Vibrant pinks of the sunset blurred into deeper purples. The heat of the day was behind them, the cool ocean breeze nudging Alaina’s skin toward goose bumps. She ran a hand over her exposed leg, hoping to generate some warmth.

Embers of sunlight caused the yacht to glow. While she was conscious of how expensive this outing was, she had to admit there was some charm to it all. The lulling rock of the yacht in the water. The heavy smell of salt in the air. Relaxing. Intimate. It was easy to feel as if they were the only two people in the whole world with the captain and crew dismissed for a few hours and other boats so far away.

And in some ways, that’d been a good thing.

But she still couldn’t help feeling slightly uneasy. He hadn’t denied wanting this fresh start, or taking the power it gave him. Even when she agreed to get to know him anew, she wondered what he really thought of her. Of all of this.

“You look chilled.” Porter pushed his deck chair closer to hers. He had a thick blanket in his hand. It was covered in a sprawling cursive print. She squinted in the dying light to see what it said. Looked like lines from a novel. Was that a purchase she’d made?

“I’ve definitely been warmer. That’s for sure.” Although there was heat building inside her just from looking at him, having him near. Their night sleeping together had brought a new level of intimacy to their relationship. One that made her yearn to take that to the next level.

“Luckily for you, I come prepared.” He draped the blanket across her shoulders, his hands brushing her shoulders and sending another shiver through her.

Definitely the electric sort of shiver born of heat not cold.

She pulled the blanket tight, closing it around her body against the ache for contact with him. Did he want this as much as she did? What would happen afterward?

“So generous,” she teased him, but she was grateful for his attentiveness. Even her nose was cold.

“I don’t know about that. There is a catch, you see.” The sunset glinted in his eyes. His beard-stubbled face was serious.

“Oh?”

“It’s going to cost you a date, lady. And you’re going to have to share that blanket.” A mischievous twinkle danced in his dark eyes, reaching his lips.

Butterflies filled her stomach, and her breasts tingled with increasing need. His relaxed smile sparked a fierce need for him; the new ease of being with him stirred her.

Deeply.

He was asking for more than a shared night in a bed and she could sense they both knew that.

Clenching the blanket tighter in her fists, she returned his gaze steadily. “I don’t know about that. That’s a pretty tall demand.”

Feeling bold and ready to take a risk that she prayed would pay off, she held out a side of the blanket for him to sit next to her. He filled the gaping space in an instant with his big, warm presence.

“How ’bout a game?” he asked, gathering her closer, his hard thigh against her legs.

“I like games.” She liked him. A lot.

“Thought you might. I’ll ask a question. And you have to answer it. And then you can do the same to me.” He pivoted his body to face her.

She nodded, her hair snagging on his five o’clock shadow. “I like it. But I’m going first. Worst drink you’ve ever had?”

“Worst drink? Hmm. In college, a friend dared me to drink a bar mat—which is basically a mix of all the alcohol that spills during the night as a shot. I never made that mistake again.” He shuddered at the memory.

“That is absolutely disgusting.” She laughed, unable to imagine him losing control in any way. “What in the world made you go along with that?”

“Now, now, Alaina.” He nudged her shoulder gently. “You only get one question at a time. It’s my turn. If you had to be stuck in one television show for the rest of your life, which one would it be?”

Now that was a hard one. “Well. And you keep in mind I’m working with outdated information. But I’d have to say I’d like to be stuck in Scooby-Doo. The original series. I could totally drive around in the Mystery Machine. I half wanted to be a detective when I was younger because of that show. Definitely my favorite growing up.”

“Scooby-Doo? I would never have guessed that one. You’d have the brains of Velma and the beauty of Daphne. You would’ve been the powerhouse.” He put his arm around her back, drawing her closer to him as he leaned them down to look at the first evening stars.

She turned to half lie on his chest, her ear pressed against the steady thud of his heart. “Ha-ha. Absolute favorite meal? Like the kind you could eat again and again and never get sick of?”

He exhaled deeply. “You do know how to ask the tough questions. I would eat Dunkaroos for every meal. I love the frosting.”

“Porter...really? Out of all the food in the world... Dunkaroos?” She lifted her head off his chest to stare at his face. Smile lines pushed at his cheeks as he attempted to look completely serious.

“Oh, yeah. Completely.” She arched her brow at him. But the smile stuck to her face, anyway.

“My turn again. Let’s see—who was your first kiss?”

“Oh, lord. I haven’t thought about Bobby Dagana in ages. I was fourteen. He walked me home and kissed me on my doorstep. But my mom saw the whole thing happen and teased me for the rest of the day.”

“If I had known you when we were younger, I would have kissed you before Bobby Dagana had ever thought about it.” He massaged the back of her head. Fingers tracing circles in her scalp.

“Mmm. That feels nice. Could you keep doing that while I think of another question?” She held on to his side, hooked her fingers in his belt loop. She could have sworn the vessel rocked under her feet even as she knew that would be virtually undetectable on the large luxury yacht.

“Nope. Sorry. That’s your question... I’m kidding.” He captured a lock of her hair and wrapped it around his finger.

“What are you thinking about right now?” Her heart was in her throat as she waited for the answer. The seconds felt like mini eternities.

“Honestly? You. How beautiful you are. How lucky I am.” He said it without a trace of sarcasm or humor. He squeezed her arm. Silence fell between them.

She swallowed hard. “Really lucky to have your life turned upside down because I can’t remember even meeting you?”

Her eyes stung with tears.

“Ah, Alaina,” he sighed, stroking her face. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you came out here with me today, even though you seemed to have sensed the yacht wasn’t neutral territory for us. Why did you come out on the yacht with me?”

* * *

Where the hell had that come from?

Porter wanted to kick himself. He’d been five seconds away from romancing his wife back into his bed again. Then he’d sabotaged it by asking a question to stop their progress in its tracks.

“The yacht seems to have been a bone of contention between us and I wanted to try to heal that.”

“Did you remember something about it?” He felt as if his marriage was one big ticking time bomb, set to explode the second she regained her full memory. He had to make the most of their time together before that happened.

“It’s more like a sensation, feelings.” She tapped her temple, her forehead furrowed. “Intuition, I guess. But no, I don’t remember.”

A reprieve. For now.

He searched for the right words to strike a balance between honesty and gaining her trust without spilling all. “We did argue, pretty heatedly. You thought it was a waste of money, that we didn’t need it, wouldn’t be using it often enough to warrant the expense.”

“It is a nice boat.” She drew a lazy circle on his chest with her finger.

He struggled to focus.

“Boat? That’s something you ski behind or paddle.”

“Ah, so the big boat is important to you.” She patted his chest. “That’s rather Freudian.”

He didn’t take the bait and argue with her as he would have in the past. Instead, he worked to explain his feelings rather than offer up a knee-jerk reaction. Over the past few weeks, he’d pushed aside her feelings for his own, and he knew if he wanted his family to stay intact, he needed to try a different strategy.

“The escape is important to me. There’s no office here. It’s the anticonstruction site, no land.”

“Oh.” She blinked fast, her hands falling to her lap. “Did you tell me that before?”

“I didn’t,” he admitted. “I should have.”

She stayed silent so long he wondered if she would change the subject altogether.

Then she looked up at him, her blue eyes searching his face. “Would I have heard you?”

He hadn’t expected that from her. Maybe they were both changing, making something good happen from the hell of the car accident that had stolen her memory.

“Maybe. Maybe not. I honestly can’t answer that, Alaina. And you’ve mentioned before that it’s not fair I’m the filter for all your memories and questions.” He reached forward and slid a disc holder off the table. “We’re tied to this house for now. But I compiled all the videos and photos of our Tallahassee home. When we get back, if you’re ready and want to, I will try my best to help you connect with people who knew both of us.”

“Thank you. Truly. This means more to me than...well, more than any expensive gift.” She took the disc from him and held it to her chest. “This is what I’m talking about. You’re really trying to hear what I need, to help us trust each other. I can feel that.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.