Day Leclaire - The Baby Gift

“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.

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.”