Men In Uniform: Burning For The Fireman: Firefighter's Doorstep Baby / Surrogate and Wife / Lying in Your Arms

“Really?” she said.

He nodded.

She reached up and pulled his head down for a fleeting kiss. “Thanks. I’m so tired I can hardly stand on my feet. Call me if you need anything.” With that she turned and went to the bedroom.

Cristiano watched, feeling the soft press of her lips against his. The lurch in his heart had surprised him. Without wanting it, without knowing it, Mariella had captured his heart. He’d give anything to have her kiss him every day. To share the tasks of caring for the baby, of seeing her sleepy and ready for bed. Desire shot through him and he shook his head. He had a cranky baby in his arms, she was dead tired, and all he could think about was her in that bed, alone. How her blonde hair would be spread across the pillow, soft and silky. Her skin would be warm and smooth.

He turned away from the door and his thoughts and he looked at Dante.

“Your mother weaves a spell on men, watch out,” he said.

The baby looked as if he was dazed, his head weaving back and forth.

“Okay, let’s get comfortable.”

He put Dante down on the sofa to shrug out of his jacket. He hadn’t even dropped it on the chair before the baby started crying again.

“Hey, none of that. Your mom needs sleep.” Cristiano scooped him up and walked him around the small living room. The child was light and warm. Cuddling him gave Cristiano a sense of peace he hadn’t had in a long time. He remembered the infant he’d saved. How was he doing these days? Would he ever have even the faintest remembrance of that awful day? He hoped Dante never had anything more difficult to face than teething.

A few minutes later Dante’s head fell against his shoulder. Looking at him, Cristiano realized the baby had finally fallen asleep.

He sat on the sofa, careful not to disturb the sleeping child. Rubbing his back slowly, he let the peace of the cottage take hold. If he could bottle this and take it with him, any time a flashback threatened he’d be instantly cured.

Slowly dawn arrived. The baby slept; Cristiano relished the feel of him in his arms. But his thoughts winged to Mariella. He knew she was sleeping, but he wished she’d wake up and come talk with him. They could discuss options to make Dante’s teething easier on all concerned. He wish he knew what the future held.

Even more than that, he wished he’d kissed her back when she’d kissed him.

The sun was well up when Mariella came back into the living room. She’d had several hours of much-needed sleep. Stopping in the doorway, she smiled at the sight. Cristiano was sprawled on the sofa, holding Dante. Both were fast asleep. Even in sleep, his arms cradled her son, keeping him safe.

She stared a long time, longings and wishes surging forward. He was a marvelous man. Strong, sincere and capable. Plus sexy to boot. The beginning beard gave him a rakish look. The muscular chest made the baby seem all the smaller—yet well protected and loved.

She went into the adjacent kitchen and quietly prepared coffee. While it brewed, she looked into the refrigerator for breakfast. She’d feed her savior of last night and send him on his way. She didn’t want to impose on his time. He’d already helped more than she should have any reason to expect.

Hopefully Dante would sleep most of the day and she could get another nap.

She heard the baby fussing before she finished boiling the eggs she planned for breakfast. She knew she was no cook, but they could have eggs and toast. And coffee. She excelled in coffee.

“Something smells good,” Cristiano said when he walked into the kitchen carrying Dante.

“Coffee. And I boiled us each an egg.”

He laughed and, as naturally as if they did it all the time, he stepped closer, leaned in and kissed her sweetly on the mouth. Mariella savored the touch, too quickly ended.

“I like boiled eggs,” he said a moment later.

Flustered Mariella could only stammer, “And toast. I can do toast.”

“A feast indeed.”

“Thank you for letting me sleep,” she said, stepping away, feeling overwhelmed with the sensations spinning out of control. She wanted to put Dante in his crib and grab Cristiano with both hands. But she had responsibilities.

“Let me take him and feed him,” she said.

“I can hold him while you get things ready. But I would take a cup of coffee.”

“Done.”

They worked together as if they’d done so before. Soon Dante was nursing on his bottle, but still fussy. Mariella encouraged him to eat, conscious of Cristiano only a few feet away. She wished she’d taken more care in dressing, had put on some makeup.

“I wish he could tell me for sure if he’s teething. Babies start getting teeth at six months and he’s almost that old already,” she said as she teased his lips with the nipple. Dante chewed on it for a moment, then sucked some more, then looked as if he would cry.

“Ask Signora Bertatali what she did for her children—she had three,” Cristiano suggested.

“Good idea.”

When Dante fell asleep, Mariella smiled and kissed him gently. “Let’s hope he stays asleep at least long enough for us to eat,” she whispered, rising. “I’ll put him in the crib.”

Cristiano had started the toast when she returned. She quickly put the eggs into cups and set the table she used for dining.

“Best boiled eggs I ever had,” Cristiano said.

She laughed. “Sorry, I’m just not a cook. I ate out mostly in New York—everyone seems to, or order in. My mother cooked at home, but I never wanted much to learn. I bet you’re a great cook.”

“Could be said by some. Not my father, but those not in the restaurant business think I can make some fine dishes,” he agreed. Gazing into her eyes, he smiled.

Mariella felt her heart turn over, then begin to race.

“I could cook dinner for us tonight if you like,” he said softly.

“I’d love that,” she replied, still caught in the gaze of his dark eyes.

They finished breakfast and, by the time Dante woke again, white fluffy clouds dotted the sky. The chance of rain remained high, but for the short term it looked pleasant outside. Mariella fed and bathed Dante while Cristiano sat nearby to watch. They spoke of myriad things, from her favorite restaurants in New York, to his vacations skiing in the Swiss Alps.

“Come back to my place,” he said when the baby was dressed for the day and had smeared oatmeal cereal everywhere.

Mariella merely laughed as she cleaned him up again, looking over at Cristiano. “To do what?”

“You can help me make the table and chairs.”

“I know nothing about making furniture.”

“Sanding doesn’t take a lot of previous experience. Come on, it’ll get you out of the house. But I can’t bring you two on my motorcycle. You’d have to drive yourself.”

“Or we can walk there. Dante loves the stroller.”

“So I’ll see you soon.”

She smiled and nodded, glancing out the window again. “We’ll be there soon. But if it looks like rain, we’ll have to scoot for home. Maybe I can use your computer again. I want to check the status of the one I ordered. If it’s already shipped it might be in Rome when we go up.”