The Christmas Baby Bump. Lynne Marshall

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      “Turkey?”

      “We need a turkey over here,” he called to Claire.

      Stephanie ducked as the lunch missile almost hit her head before she could sit. A smile worked its way from one side of her mouth to the other. These people might be crazy, but they were fun.

      “Sorry!” Claire called out.

      “No problem.” She had to admit that she kind of liked this friendly chaos. It was distracting, and that was always a good thing. When her gaze settled on Phil, he was already watching her, a smile very similar to the one she’d seen in her office lingering on his lips.

      “I’m glad you decided to come.”

      If he was a player, she got the distinct impression he was circling her. How in the world should she feel about that? Lunch was one thing, but what if he asked her out? Hearing how he struggled with Robbie had shown her another side of him. This guy had a heart beneath all that puffed-up male plumage, she’d bet her first paycheck on it. She wasn’t sure she could make the same claim for herself.

      “Okay, everybody, let’s get going on this.” Jason stood at the head of the long table, his mere presence commanding attention. Dark hair, pewter eyes, suntanned face, she could see why Claire watched him so adoringly. “Last year we came in third in the Santa Barbara Chamber of Commerce Christmas Ocean Parade, and this year I think we have a fighting chance of taking first if we put our heads together and come up with a theme.”

      “You mean like Christmas at Christmastime?” Jon looked perplexed by the obvious.

      “He means like Santa and his helpers, or Christmas shopping mania, or the North Pole,” Claire shot back.

      “How about trains?” Jon said. “Boys love trains at Christmas.”

      “What about trains and dolls?” Jon’s nurse added, with a wayward glance.

      “How about Christmas around the world?” Stephanie’s nurse, Amy, spoke up. “We could cover the yacht with small Christmas trees decorated the way other countries do, and the mast could be a huge Christmas tree all made from lights.”

      The conversation buzzed and hummed in response to the first ideas. It seemed everyone had a suggestion. Everyone but Stephanie. She particularly liked what Amy had suggested.

      What did she remember most from Christmas besides the beautifully decorated trees? Santa, that’s what. “Could we have a Santa by the big tree?” She said her thought out loud by mistake.

      “Yeah, we need a Santa up there,” Phil backed her up.

      “And I nominate you to be Santa,” Claire said, pointing to Phil with an impish smile. “You’d be adorable.”

      “Me! You’ve got to be kidding! I scare kids.”

      “Oh, right, and Robbie doesn’t adore you. Yeah, I think you should be Santa and Gina and Robbie can sit on your lap.” Claire wouldn’t back down.

      “No way,” he said, with an are-you-crazy glare in his eyes. Out of the corner of his mouth he said, “Thanks a lot,” to Stephanie.

      “Great idea,” one of the nurses blurted across the table, before a few others chimed in. “Yeah.”

      “But I am the un-Santa.” He glanced at Stephanie again, this time with a back-me-up-here plea in his eyes.

      Not about to get involved in the debate, she lifted her brows, shrugged and took a bite of her sandwich.

      “Look,” Jason said. “We need to get more people involved on the yacht, and you haven’t been much help the last couple of years.” There was a sparkle in Jason’s eyes, as if he enjoyed putting Phil on the spot. “Should everyone be elves?” he asked, his mouth half-full of sandwich.

      “What if one person stood by each decorated country’s tree dressed in the traditional outfit?” Amy seemed to be on a roll. “You know, lederhosen, kilt, cowboy hat…oh, and what’s that Russian fur thing called? Ushanka? And what about a dashiki or caftan, oh, wait, and a kimono, or a sari or…”

      “That’s a fantastic idea,” Claire said.

      Revved up, Amy grinned, and Stephanie nodded with approval at her. Phil squeezed her forearm. Okay, everything was a great idea except for Santa.

      General agreement hummed through the room, and several people soon chimed in. Wow. I like that. Good idea.

      The receptionist, Gaby, wearing glasses that covered half of her face, took notes like a court reporter.

      “Did you get that?” Jason asked her.

      Gaby nodded, never looking up, not breaking her bound-for-writer’s-cramp speed.

      “Ah, then we shouldn’t need a Santa anymore,” Phil said, sounding relieved.

      “Of course we will,” Claire said. “One Santa unites them all, and Phil will be it.”

      Stephanie’s eyes widened and from the side, she noticed his narrow betrayed-looking gaze directed at Claire.

      “I say we take a vote on who should be Santa, the captain of the boat or me,” he said, just before his beeper went off. “Damn. It’s day care. I’ve got to take this.” He strode out of the room, the doors swinging in his wake.

      Jason snagged the opportunity. “Okay, everyone agree Phil’s Santa?”

      Everyone laughed and nodded. Poor guy didn’t stand a chance. Stephanie had to admit she sort of felt sorry for him.

      Phil stepped back into the room, half of his mouth hitched but not in a smile. “I’ve got to make a quick run over to day care. Robbie’s refusing to cooperate with nap time.”

      Jason nodded. “Let us know if you need to reschedule some appointments.”

      “It shouldn’t take long. I’ve just got to make the kid understand he has to follow the rules—” Phil snapped his fingers as if the greatest idea in the universe had just occurred to him “—or he won’t get afternoon snack!”

      Stephanie laughed. The guy was barely coping with this new responsibility, but he wasn’t griping. He seemed to catch on quickly, and, she had to admit, it made her like him even more. She glanced around the table at all the adoring female gazes on him. Okay, so she’d finally joined the club.

      “So who’s Santa this year?” Phil asked, one hand on the door.

      Jason grinned. “You!”

      He flashed a glance at Stephanie, pointed, and mouthed, “You owe me.”

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