The Baby Made at Christmas. Lilian Darcy

      Chapter Four

      That was day one.

      Christmas took over most of day two.

      Lee awoke early in the morning to hear Mac calling his family in Idaho, standing in her kitchen and keeping his voice down. “C’mon, sis, I knew you’d be up with the kids,” she heard him say.

      Upstairs, the Narmans and their guests were up with the kids, too, and she knew she needed to touch base with them right away, to see what they wanted for cleaning and catering over the next few days. She called the cleaning company first, to confirm availability, using the boss’s home number, and booked them in tentatively for eight this morning. It was only six-thirty now, but the cleaner was happy to hear from her. He could charge a mint for working on Christmas morning.

      Lee jumped in the shower for a two-minute scrub and then dressed quickly. Mac was still on the phone. “Doing my second job,” she mouthed at him, pointing up at the ceiling. He nodded.

      The Narmans were very happy about the cleaners coming at eight. Most of the party was still in bed, just two sets of bleary-looking parents in pajamas and robes up and about, watching their impatient, early rising kids dive into the contents of several bulging stockings.

      “Catering, no, not for today,” they told her. “You filled the refrigerator with everything we needed for last night—thanks so much. And for Christmas dinner we’re eating out.”

      They talked through a few more details—they wanted a four-course spread for twenty people catered for later in the week, and someone had broken the glass shower door in one of the bathrooms, so could she arrange to get that replaced? Then Lee did a quick collection of bottles and cans and empty pizza boxes, and took out four bags of trash.

      She was taking the final bulging bag to the little wooden trash hut that kept out bears and raccoons when Mr. Narman, Sr., found her and presented her with a list of eight more “little details” that needed her attention. More shopping, another repair job, reservations at various restaurants to make on their behalf and several more items.

      “Is it always like this when they’re around?” Mac asked, when she told him she would probably be tied up most of the day, and then there was her dinner with friends to go to. She’d made coffee, and pointed to the cereal packets and the toaster and the bread.

      “Pretty much. But they’re polite about it, and it’s such a good arrangement for me. Very cozy when they’re not around and I get to go upstairs.”

      “Oh, you get to use the house?”

      “Yep.” She grinned. “Laze in front of the open fire and drink champagne in the Jacuzzi.” She kicked off her boots and stretched her neck and shoulders in preparation for diving into all those phone calls.

      “You were a cat in your previous life, I can tell.”

      “Oh, you can?”

      “The way you stretched and purred when you said that. The way you’re just slightly trying to get rid of me because I’m crowding your space.”

      “Trying to—?”

      Maybe I am.

      He was grinning at her, leaning on an elbow in the kitchen doorway, with their breakfast dishes—two mugs, two plates—sitting in the sink behind him. The accusation hadn’t been made in anger. “It’s okay,” he said. “I have stuff I need to do, too.”

      “I’m really not... I’m not pushing you out the door.” She felt a little panicky that he’d read her so clearly, and that she’d given the wrong impression about last night.

      “It’s okay.” It must be, because he was still grinning.

      “It was...” She scrambled for the right words. So she was a cat. Did he like cats? “I loved it. I loved the whole night. Sleeping beside you. And then you were still here in the morning, and that was lovely, too. It really was.”

      “It’s okay,” he repeated patiently.

      “I want to see you again,” she blurted out, and then bit her lip, because maybe she’d overstated her case, maybe his recognition that she was ready for some alone time had made her too honest about how much she’d liked last night.

      Damn!

      Or not.

      He was smiling. Again. “So do I. Soon. We can make a plan now, if you want. Or if you don’t know when you’ll next revert from feline to human form, we can leave it and make a plan later.”

      “Now. We can make a plan now. I’m only a cat some of the time.”

      “Aha, is that a confession?” He stepped toward her and swung her easily into his arms, lacing his fingers in the small of her back and rocking her from side to side. It was as if they were dancing. “I knew it! I knew you were a cat.”

      “Do you, um, like them?”

      “Like what?”

      “Cats.”

      “What’s not to like?” he said softly. “They feel good to touch.” He ran his hand down the side seam of her jeans. “And if you treat them right, they purr for you.” He brushed the skin behind her ears and under her jaw, and so help her, she almost did purr! Her eyes wanted to close, and she wanted to rub against him and coil up and stay there. And she’d most definitely purred last night. But there were things to do and places to be....

      He was still speaking. She opened her eyes again and found him looking at her. “And their eyes go big when something exciting happens.”

      “Yours, too,” she whispered. Big and so dark.

      “And they’re such phenomenal athletes, so fit and sinuous, the way they move. They know how to use their bodies so well. I’ve always loved that in a...cat.”

      He was speaking of her, not cats at all, but all she could think of was him. She could imagine him, suddenly, out on a powder run, making effortless, snaking tracks through pristine snow with his shoulders squared to the slope and his strong legs pumping like pistons or springs.

      “Let’s ski together,” she blurted out. “Could that be part of the plan? For next time?”

      “And sometimes they’re just plain hilarious.”

      “Wh—?”

      “I’m seducing you, Lee, and you want to hit the slopes.”

      “No, I...”

      Shoot, how did I miss that? Of course he’s seducing me!

      “We have time,” he insisted.

      “Do we?”

      “If we’re fast. And not fancy.” He added slyly, “I’ll set my watch.”

      She laughed. “How long?”

      “Ten minutes. Fifteen, by the time our shoes are back on.”

      “You’re serious.”

      “I totally am.”

      So they were fast and not fancy, stripping and laughing and falling on the bed, and taking every shortcut they could think of....

      Oh, it was so good. So