Playboys' Christmas Surprises: A Christmas Baby Surprise. Catherine Mann

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СКАЧАТЬ inside her just from looking at him, having him near. Their night sleeping together had brought a new level of intimacy to their relationship. One that made her yearn to take that to the next level.

      “Luckily for you, I come prepared.” He draped the blanket across her shoulders, his hands brushing her shoulders and sending another shiver through her.

      Definitely the electric sort of shiver born of heat not cold.

      She pulled the blanket tight, closing it around her body against the ache for contact with him. Did he want this as much as she did? What would happen afterward?

      “So generous,” she teased him, but she was grateful for his attentiveness. Even her nose was cold.

      “I don’t know about that. There is a catch, you see.” The sunset glinted in his eyes. His beard-stubbled face was serious.

      “Oh?”

      “It’s going to cost you a date, lady. And you’re going to have to share that blanket.” A mischievous twinkle danced in his dark eyes, reaching his lips.

      Butterflies filled her stomach, and her breasts tingled with increasing need. His relaxed smile sparked a fierce need for him; the new ease of being with him stirred her.

      Deeply.

      He was asking for more than a shared night in a bed and she could sense they both knew that.

      Clenching the blanket tighter in her fists, she returned his gaze steadily. “I don’t know about that. That’s a pretty tall demand.”

      Feeling bold and ready to take a risk that she prayed would pay off, she held out a side of the blanket for him to sit next to her. He filled the gaping space in an instant with his big, warm presence.

      “How ’bout a game?” he asked, gathering her closer, his hard thigh against her legs.

      “I like games.” She liked him. A lot.

      “Thought you might. I’ll ask a question. And you have to answer it. And then you can do the same to me.” He pivoted his body to face her.

      She nodded, her hair snagging on his five o’clock shadow. “I like it. But I’m going first. Worst drink you’ve ever had?”

      “Worst drink? Hmm. In college, a friend dared me to drink a bar mat—which is basically a mix of all the alcohol that spills during the night as a shot. I never made that mistake again.” He shuddered at the memory.

      “That is absolutely disgusting.” She laughed, unable to imagine him losing control in any way. “What in the world made you go along with that?”

      “Now, now, Alaina.” He nudged her shoulder gently. “You only get one question at a time. It’s my turn. If you had to be stuck in one television show for the rest of your life, which one would it be?”

      Now that was a hard one. “Well. And you keep in mind I’m working with outdated information. But I’d have to say I’d like to be stuck in Scooby-Doo. The original series. I could totally drive around in the Mystery Machine. I half wanted to be a detective when I was younger because of that show. Definitely my favorite growing up.”

      “Scooby-Doo? I would never have guessed that one. You’d have the brains of Velma and the beauty of Daphne. You would’ve been the powerhouse.” He put his arm around her back, drawing her closer to him as he leaned them down to look at the first evening stars.

      She turned to half lie on his chest, her ear pressed against the steady thud of his heart. “Ha-ha. Absolute favorite meal? Like the kind you could eat again and again and never get sick of?”

      He exhaled deeply. “You do know how to ask the tough questions. I would eat Dunkaroos for every meal. I love the frosting.”

      “Porter...really? Out of all the food in the world... Dunkaroos?” She lifted her head off his chest to stare at his face. Smile lines pushed at his cheeks as he attempted to look completely serious.

      “Oh, yeah. Completely.” She arched her brow at him. But the smile stuck to her face, anyway.

      “My turn again. Let’s see—who was your first kiss?”

      “Oh, lord. I haven’t thought about Bobby Dagana in ages. I was fourteen. He walked me home and kissed me on my doorstep. But my mom saw the whole thing happen and teased me for the rest of the day.”

      “If I had known you when we were younger, I would have kissed you before Bobby Dagana had ever thought about it.” He massaged the back of her head. Fingers tracing circles in her scalp.

      “Mmm. That feels nice. Could you keep doing that while I think of another question?” She held on to his side, hooked her fingers in his belt loop. She could have sworn the vessel rocked under her feet even as she knew that would be virtually undetectable on the large luxury yacht.

      “Nope. Sorry. That’s your question... I’m kidding.” He captured a lock of her hair and wrapped it around his finger.

      “What are you thinking about right now?” Her heart was in her throat as she waited for the answer. The seconds felt like mini eternities.

      “Honestly? You. How beautiful you are. How lucky I am.” He said it without a trace of sarcasm or humor. He squeezed her arm. Silence fell between them.

      She swallowed hard. “Really lucky to have your life turned upside down because I can’t remember even meeting you?”

      Her eyes stung with tears.

      “Ah, Alaina,” he sighed, stroking her face. “I don’t deserve you.”

      “Why do you say that?”

      “Because you came out here with me today, even though you seemed to have sensed the yacht wasn’t neutral territory for us. Why did you come out on the yacht with me?”

      * * *

      Where the hell had that come from?

      Porter wanted to kick himself. He’d been five seconds away from romancing his wife back into his bed again. Then he’d sabotaged it by asking a question to stop their progress in its tracks.

      “The yacht seems to have been a bone of contention between us and I wanted to try to heal that.”

      “Did you remember something about it?” He felt as if his marriage was one big ticking time bomb, set to explode the second she regained her full memory. He had to make the most of their time together before that happened.

      “It’s more like a sensation, feelings.” She tapped her temple, her forehead furrowed. “Intuition, I guess. But no, I don’t remember.”

      A reprieve. For now.

      He searched for the right words to strike a balance between honesty and gaining her trust without spilling all. “We did argue, pretty heatedly. You thought it was a waste of money, that we didn’t need it, wouldn’t be using it often enough to warrant the expense.”

      “It is a nice boat.” She drew a lazy circle on his chest with her СКАЧАТЬ