Miracle Christmas: Dr Romano's Christmas Baby. Cara Colter

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СКАЧАТЬ happily moved into Rilla’s apartment. Everything had fallen into place. Now, if he could just banish the growing urge to touch her. To invite her into his bed. He’d seen some of the looks she’d given him from time when she’d thought he hadn’t been paying attention, and he was damn sure she was feeling a little hot and bothered herself.

      Not that it mattered. He’d been adamant with her from the beginning about the no-sex thing and he was sure he wasn’t going to back down because Eve and her apple had moved into the room next door. Nothing was going to distract him—not her bras hanging on the line or glimpses of her damn waist—from his ultimate goal. A live, healthy newborn.

      The memories from the awful day Rilla had lost the baby returned now with startling vividness. They’d made love in the early hours of the morning, when his resistance had been low. It had been over a month since they’d been intimate, a self-imposed torture, and she had rolled over and her fingers had brushed against him, his regular morning erection almost painful to touch, and whispered, ‘I miss you.’

      Still he had been reluctant but she’d stroked him and told him it would be OK and said, ‘Please, make love to me.’ And their prolonged abstinence had caused an eruption of passion and he had pinned her to the bed and thoroughly ravaged her.

      Six hours later she had walked into Brisbane General, cramping and bleeding, and even though he’d known that sex during pregnancy didn’t cause miscarriages, his world had been turned upside down.

      ‘Dr Romano? Phone for you.’

      Luca dragged his gaze away from Rilla and the memories, grateful for a real distraction.

      Rilla was painfully aware of Luca’s scrutiny as she and Emily decorated the department. Christmas in hospital was hardly anybody’s idea of fun so the least they could do was make the experience a little less clinical. Rilla, a self-confessed Christmas junkie, put herself in charge of the decorations every year and it was hard to believe that the first of December had come around already.

      Hard to believe that she and Luca had been cohabiting for six weeks. Sharing evening meals and early morning vomiting sessions. Washing his clothes and seeing their toothbrushes beside each other in the bathroom. It was intimate yet … not.

      Luca had been true to his word. He was trying very hard to make things as natural between them as possible. Of an evening, when they were both home, they actually talked. Not about their future and how rosy it was going to be, waking up to each other every day like they had eight years ago, but about themselves. Like they should have done back then. About their likes and dislikes, their fears, their joys, their insecurities.

      And things that appeared trivial on the surface but spoke about their tastes and character. What they would grab if the house was burning down. Who they would invite to a dinner party if they could choose from anyone on the planet. What the world’s most useful invention was. Which poet was better—Shelley or Byron. Was the music better in the 1970s than the 1980s?

      Things that they should have known about each other already but didn’t. Things they hadn’t had time to talk about last time round, too caught up in lust and their rush to get down the aisle. They argued but mostly agreed and above all else they laughed. They relaxed. They had fun.

      And then there was the baby—of course. They talked about the baby a lot. They made plans about the nursery and what school they wanted to enrol it in. They tossed names around and compared parenting ideas, finding themselves remarkably in tune. They even talked about getting out of the flat and buying a house so their child had a big back yard to run around in.

      But there was still a reserve they’d probably never shake. She couldn’t speak for him but she knew she was still protecting her heart. The miscarriage and break up had been devastating and, as he had said, they’d be foolish to put their hearts on the line again.

      She’d thought his reconciliation idea had been insane to start with, but as each day went by she could see the potential. Two parents whose sole focus would be their baby. No distractions involving each other and how crazy love could make you. Cohabiting, living as a family, devoting all their love, time and attention to their child without the complication of adult love and all the potential emotional upheaval it brought to the equation.

      This lead-up to the baby’s birth was about rebuilding their relationship so when the baby finally arrived they’d both be on the same page. Actually, not so much rebuilding but restructuring. Redefining. Finding a groove that worked for them that involved mutual respect and a common purpose.

      Rilla knew that would probably sound cold to some, but these days, with Luca’s absolute conviction it could work, she saw it as practical. At twenty-two, she’d been young and romantic and had wanted the whole fairy-tale. As quickly as possible. But at thirty, her priorities had shifted. She just wanted the best for their baby.

      ‘Tree now?’

      Rilla blinked as Emily’s voice interrupted her train of thought. ‘Oh … yep,’ Rilla agreed. ‘The night staff assembled it for us, we just need to decorate it.’

      She didn’t know how long she had before her stomach would revolt again so it would be good to get it done while she was still feeling the Christmas spirit. Her morning sickness had continued unabated and it didn’t seem to matter what she did or where she was, it dogged her every move. Stillness intensified it and motion aggravated it further. Smells in particular triggered crippling bouts of nausea.

      They walked out to the main reception area where rows of plastic chairs sat empty, awaiting the morning rush. An eight-foot naked Christmas tree was set up near the triage desk, awaiting tinsel and baubles.

      Rilla opened the box of decorations and grinned at Emily. ‘Gosh, I love Christmas.’

      They attacked the job with enthusiasm, singing along to the piped carols as they went. Half an hour later there was just the angel for the top left. Rilla, five feet two, looked at Emily, four feet ten, and then back up to the top of the tree.

      ‘I don’t know about you, Ems, but I don’t think either of us have a chance in hell of reaching the top branch.’

      Emily grinned. ‘I’ll get a chair.’

      Emily took one of the waiting-room chairs and held it while Rilla climbed on. She rose on tiptoe and leaned forward to place the angel.

      ‘Rilla!’

      Luca’s furious exclamation startled her and she toppled precariously.

      ‘Get down from there,’ he ordered, reaching her in a few angry strides and pulling her down off the seat. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

      ‘I’m just hanging the angel, Luca,’ she said, waving it under his nose. Her body had slid down his as he had lowered her and despite his riled expression she felt her body surge against his.

      Luca saw a flare of heat in her tawny gaze and set her away from him. Inferno! Was she deliberately trying to provoke him? ‘What if you’d fallen off the chair?’ he demanded.

      ‘Well, I nearly did, thanks to you.’

      Rilla was conscious of Emily watching their heated exchange. Otherwise she would have said, I’m pregnant, not made of glass.

      Luca’s pulse rate settled now she was safely back on the floor, even if the heat in his loins hadn’t. ‘Give it to me,’ he sighed, and held out his hand.

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