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

“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.”

Cristiano waited until she had Dante bundled up and in the stroller. He took off on the motorcycle while she began to push the stroller up to the cottage. It was noticeably cooler than it had been. Tomorrow they’d zip into Rome. She’d do what she needed and he’d do what he needed and then she’d return to the lake to finish her vacation. She looked forward to spending the day with him without the baby. With just the two of them, and a carefree day, who knew what might happen?

When she reached the cottage, Dante was asleep. Poor thing, he was probably exhausted from being up all night. She went straight to the workshop in back. As she walked closer she could hear the raspy sound of sandpaper against wood. He had already started.

Parking the carriage just inside the doorway, she stepped further into the workshop. Better for Dante to be near the fresh air than one laden with sawdust. If it began to rain, he would be sheltered and she could get to him quickly.

Cristiano glanced up.

Taking a breath, she relished the scent of furniture oil and fresh-cut wood. “I love the way it smells in here.”

“Me, too. Are we set for tomorrow?”

“I checked with Signora Bertatali and she said she’d be delighted to watch Dante. I’m looking forward to our drive. She also said it did sound like Dante is teething. She said to give him something cold to chew on, like a cold damp rag or a rubber toy that’s been in the freezer.”

He nodded, beckoning her over to watch as he continued with the sanding. She stepped closer and peered at the smooth piece that would become a leg.

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