it came to their children, and he could see in Phoebe the same self-sacrificial love. Even now, in sleep, her arms surrounded little Teddy, keeping him close though he was unaware.
Moving carefully so as not to wake them, he rolled to his feet and quietly removed the screen so he could add wood to the smoldering fire. For insurance, he tossed another handful of kindling into the mix and blew on it gently. Small flames danced and writhed as he took a medium-size log and positioned it across the coals.
The simple task rocked him in an indefinable way. How often did he pause in his daily schedule to enjoy something as elemental and magical as an honest-to-God wood fire? The elegant gas logs in his condo were nothing in comparison.
As he stared into the hearth, the temperature built. His skin burned, and yet he couldn’t move away. Phoebe seemed to him more like this real fire than any woman he had been with in recent memory. Energetic...messy...mesmerizing. Producing a heat that warmed him down to his bones.
Most of his liaisons in Atlanta were brief. He spent an enormous amount of time, perhaps more than was warranted, growing and protecting the Cavallo bottom line. Sex was good and a necessary part of his life. But he had never been tempted to do what it took to keep a woman in his bed night after night.
Kneeling, he turned and looked at Phoebe. Should he wake her up? Did the baby need to be put to bed?
Uncharacteristically uncertain, he deferred a decision. Snagging a pillow from the sofa, he leaned back against the stone hearth, stretched out his legs and watched them sleep.
* * *
Phoebe awoke slowly, but in no way befuddled. Her situation was crystal clear. Like a coward, she kept her eyes closed, even though she knew Leo was watching her. Apparently, her possum act didn’t fool him. He touched her foot with his. “Open your eyes, Phoebe.”
She felt at a distinct disadvantage. There was no graceful way to get up with him so close. Sighing, she obeyed his command and stared at him with as much chutzpah as she could muster. Rolling onto her back, she tucked her hands behind her head. “Have I brought a voyeur into my home?” she asked with a tart bite in her voice. It would do no good to let him see how much he affected her.
Leo yawned and stretched, his eyes heavy-lidded. “It’s not my fault you had too much wine at dinner.”
“I did not,” she said indignantly. “I’m just tired, because the baby—”
“Gotcha,” he said smugly, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
She sat up and ran her hands through her hair, crossing her legs but being careful not to bump Teddy. “Very funny. How long was I out?”
He shrugged. “Not long.” His hot stare told her more clearly than words what he was thinking. They had rocketed from acquaintances to sleeping partners at warp speed. It was going to be difficult to pretend otherwise.
Her breasts ached and her mouth was dry. Sexual tension shimmered between them like unseen vines drawing them ever closer. The only thing keeping them apart was a baby.
A baby who was her responsibility. That reality drew her back from the edge, though the decision to be clearheaded was a painful one. “I think we’ll say good-night,” she muttered. “Feel free to stay up as long as you like. But please bank the fire before you go to bed.”
His gaze never faltered as she scooped up Teddy and gathered his things. “We have to talk about this,” he said, the blunt words a challenge.
It took a lot, but she managed to look him straight in the eyes with a calm smile. “I don’t know what you mean. Good night, Leo.”
* * *
At two o’clock, he gave up the fight to sleep. He was wired, and his body pulsed with arousal, his sex full and hard. Neither of which condition was conducive to slumber. The New York Times bestseller he had opened failed to hold his attention past the first chapter. Cursing as he climbed out of his warm bed to pace the floor, he stopped suddenly and listened.
Faintly, but distinctly, he heard a baby cry.
It was all the excuse he needed. Throwing a thin, gray wool robe over his navy silk sleep pants, he padded into the hall, glad of the thick socks that Hattie had packed for him. Undoubtedly she had imagined him needing them if it snowed and he wore his boots. But they happened to be perfect for a man who wanted to move stealthily about the house.
In the hallway, he paused, trying to locate his landlady. There was a faint light under her door, but not Teddy’s. The kid cried again, a fretful, middle-of-the-night whimper. Without weighing the consequences, Leo knocked.
Seconds later, the door opened a crack. Phoebe peered out at him, her expression indiscernible in the gloom. “What’s wrong? What do you want?”
Her stage whisper was comical given the fact that Teddy was clearly awake.
“You need some backup?”
“I’m fine.” She started to close the door, but he stuck his foot in the gap, remembering at the last instant that he wasn’t wearing shoes.
She pushed harder than he anticipated, and his socks were less protection than he expected. Pain shot up his leg. He groaned, jerking backward and nearly falling on his ass. Hopping on one foot, he pounded his fist against the wall to keep from letting loose with a string of words definitely not rated for kid ears.
Now Phoebe flung the door open wide, her face etched in dismay. “Are you hurt? Oh, heavens, of course you are. Here,” she said. “Hold him while I get ice.”
Without warning, his arms were full of a squirmy little body that smelled of spit-up and Phoebe’s light floral scent. “But I...” He followed her down the hall, wincing at every step, even as Teddy’s grumbles grew louder.
By the time he made it to the living room, Phoebe had turned on a couple of lamps and filled a dish towel with ice cubes. Her fingers curled around his biceps. “Give me the baby and sit down,” she said, sounding frazzled and irritated, and anything but amorous. She pushed him toward the sofa. “Put your leg on the couch and let me see if you broke anything.”
Teddy objected to the jostling and cried in earnest. Leo lost his balance and flopped down onto the sofa so hard that the baby’s head and Leo’s chin made contact with jarring force.
“Damn it to hell.” He lay back, half-dazed, as Phoebe plucked Teddy from his arms and sat at the opposite end of the sofa. Before he could object, she had his leg in her lap and was peeling off his sock.
When slim, cool fingers closed around the bare arch of his foot, Leo groaned again. This time for a far different reason. Having Phoebe stroke his skin was damned arousing, even if he was in pain. Her thumb pressed gently, moving from side to side to assess the damage.
Leo hissed, a sharp involuntary inhalation. Phoebe winced. “Sorry. Am I hurting you too badly?”
She glanced sideways and her eyes grew big. His robe had opened when he lost his balance. Most of his chest was bare, and it was impossible to miss the erection that tented his sleep pants. He actually saw the muscles in her throat ripple as she swallowed.
“It feels good,” he muttered. “Don’t stop.”
But Teddy
