Playboys' Christmas Surprises: A Christmas Baby Surprise

Stepping into the doorway, he stopped short. Instead of the matronly granny figure he’d hired to help out, he found his wife feeding their son a bottle in a rocker by the crib.

“Hey, little man,” she said softly, propping the bottle on her arm, “I’m your mommy. Forever. And I do want to be your mother. Who wouldn’t love that precious face of yours? I wish we could have had the past month together, but that wasn’t my choice.”

Alaina took his breath away.

Though her pale pink T-shirt was crumpled from sleep, it still hinted at the shape of her curves and the matching pale, striped shorts exposed her beautiful legs.

But Porter couldn’t see her face. Like any new mother, she was focused, homed in on her child. Her head was tilted down toward Thomas, blond hair spilling over her right cheek and shoulder.

She was beautiful and the warmth of her love for Thomas pulled at him. For the first time since she had woken up from the coma, she looked at ease. She looked almost happy. If he were being honest with himself, it was the first time she had looked truly happy in months.

A pang of guilt welled in his chest. Porter wanted to do anything—give anything—for her to stay like that. For her to be happy with him again. And she deserved it. Relationships hadn’t always been kind to her.

When they’d first started dating four and a half years ago, she had recently left an emotionally abusive boyfriend. He had controlled all aspects of her life, telling her who she could and couldn’t see. He’d shown up to check in on her. Slowly isolating her so she would have no one to turn to for help.

That was one of the reasons she didn’t have friends around to help now. She’d told him it had been hard to make friends after that experience. Possibly that was why she was struggling so much to trust him now.

He couldn’t blame her for feeling that way.

Five years ago, she’d tried to take charge of her life when she’d left the boyfriend. But the abuse hadn’t stopped. He’d stalked her. Only the restraining order had given Alaina her life back.

And even after all she’d been through, Porter admired the hell out of that. Her capacity to still love, to still believe in people. It was one of the things that had drawn him to her.

And tonight, he saw that spirit, that beautiful resilient spirit fill the room. A pang of guilt flooded him for not telling her about their marital struggles, but damn it, he couldn’t shake the sense he would lose her altogether if he did that. He would do whatever it took to get his family back. He would make sure she had no wants or desires not satisfied.

How had it taken such a terrible accident for him to appreciate how important his family was to him? Shouldn’t he have realized all of this on his own, without the fear of almost losing this chance to have a family he of his own?

She must have felt his eyes on her, because she abruptly looked up and met his stare, and the relaxed expression on her face faded. “Porter?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “What good is a night nanny if you don’t let her work?”

“I’ve already missed out on a month of his life. I want him to bond with me.”

“You shouldn’t push yourself.”

“I’m an adult. I know my limits,” she said with a tight, bristly tone. Thomas squirmed and whined. She brought him to her shoulder like a natural, patting his back and tapping the rocking chair into motion. “Do you?”

He chuckled drily. “Now that sounds like the wife I remember. Yes, I’m a workaholic.” He gave her a sideways smile. “But you taught me to slow down and admire art.”

“That’s a nice thing to say.” She patted Thomas’s back faster, and still he fussed and squirmed, kicking his casted foot.

“Here, pass him to me.” Porter walked deeper into the room, his arms outstretched.

Hurt and irritation flashed in her blue eyes, but she handed over the baby, anyway. “Sure. I want him to be comfortable.”

“Alaina,” he said, taking the baby and cradling him like a football, while massaging his little leg above the cast, “you aren’t expected to know everything any more than I am. We’re a team here and together we’ll get it all covered.”

She nodded once, shoving up from the rocker. “I know. It’s just difficult feeling like I bring so little to the table right now.”

“You told me once that marriage isn’t always fifty-fifty. The pendulum swings back and forth.” His mind drifted back to when she’d spoken those words.

She’d been so angry. He’d come home with a cast on his wrist, fresh out of the emergency room because he’d fallen off a scaffold while inspecting a work site. He’d broken his wrist, but he hadn’t wanted to worry her. She’d made it clear she should have been called and included, allowed to help him and drive him home. She’d wanted to tend him and he’d wanted to get to change clothes to go back to work...

He damn well wouldn’t let his job interfere with repairing his family now.

Porter felt Thomas drift off to sleep again, his body relaxing. Later he would tell Alaina the baby hadn’t been hungry. His leg had been aching from the weight of the cast and the surgery. Alaina felt insecure enough right now. “Let’s pass over the nursery monitor to the woman paid to stay awake.”

“Sure, but I’m not tired. Maybe it has something to do with that month-long nap I took.”

He stifled a laugh to keep from waking the baby, glad that she could joke about their ordeal. He set Thomas in his crib again, stroking the baby’s head for a few seconds before turning the monitor back on. Porter nodded to the door and walked into the hall. The night nanny, Mrs. Marks, poked her head out of her bedroom, waved with her puzzle book and ducked into the nursery.

Porter held out a hand to his wife. “Want to see the beach view from the balcony? It was too foggy at supper time to enjoy much. The Christmas lights along the yachts will be more visible now.”

“Yachts?”

He winced. From the beginning, she hadn’t been comfortable with some parts of their wealthy lifestyle. She’d grown up with hardworking parents who ran a beach food cart in North Carolina’s Outer Banks. Their business had paid the bills, but hadn’t provided much in the way of extras. What would she say when he told her one of those yachts anchored off the shore was theirs?

“Forget it. You should rest even if you can’t sleep.”

“I can make decisions for myself,” she said with blue fire in her eyes. “Show me the lights.”

“Right this way,” he said, once again extending his hand to her. Gingerly, she took it, but her grip was loose, as if she was ready to tear away from him at any moment.

Porter led them down the stairs, guided by the muted twinkle of Christmas lights that were twined with garland and wrapped around the banister.

There was an audible silence that followed them, but Porter tried to focus on the fact that she had chosen to come with him instead of retreating to the privacy of her room. It was a good sign.

They reached the stairway landing where the sleek black baby grand piano stood beneath one of Porter’s favorite portraits: Alaina in her wedding gown. Her hair had been curled in loose waves that framed her face and the lace wedding gown accentuated her slender figure. She had looked like a princess that day. And it was Porter’s renewed intention to make sure he treated her like royalty so she would want to stay once her memory came back. So the good now would overshadow the bad then. That she could forgive and move forward with him and Thomas, building a future.

And if her memory didn’t return? He still needed to convince her to stay and build that life with him and their son. Family was everything and he refused to lose his.

Alaina squeezed his hand as they passed in front of the portrait. He watched her gaze lock on the photograph. She didn’t say anything for several minutes, and he didn’t push her as they strode out onto the patio that overlooked the Atlantic.

Rebuilding his family was a game of growing trust. And she deserved to raise questions without him dumping information on her. He wanted to give her the space she needed to realize she belonged here.

“Tell me about our wedding.” The words came out almost like a prayer. Soft. Earnest.

“There’s a photo album around the house somewhere. And plenty of extra pictures on the computer.”

“But here’s the bridal portrait, and it doesn’t tell me anything. Not really. I feel a disconnect with the person in the pictures you’ve already shown me. Maybe if you tell me, then I will recognize the emotions of the moment.”

“Maybe?” His heart hammered.

“Men don’t get all emotional about weddings.”

He considered her for a moment. She dropped his hand and moved to the piano bench. She sat with her back against the keys, eyes fixed across the room and on the ocean. The Christmas lights from the yachts illuminated the edges of her face, framing her in an otherworldly glow. Damn. She was gorgeous, even when she was stormy. He wanted her in his bed now as much as he ever had. But he wanted to put his family back together even more, and he had to remain focused on the end goal.

Quietly he offered, “I was happy the day we married.”