Christmas Baby: A Baby Under the Tree / A Baby For Christmas / Her Christmas Hero

That is, until he was urged to attend his niece’s first communion in Houston on Sunday morning. After he’d missed Billy’s birthday party a while back and created such a stir within the family, he’d decided to make a showing this time, even though he’d rather be anywhere than in a church on Sunday morning, especially if it required a confession.

It’s not that he had some huge sin hanging over his head, but he wasn’t ready to make things right with God when he still blamed the Big Guy Upstairs for allowing Joey to die. But he supposed he’d deal with that tomorrow morning.

Right now, he was headed to the city a day early, determined to see Jillian while he was there. Through his connections, he’d gotten her address just minutes ago: 237 Bluebonnet Court, apartment 16.

It had been exactly six weeks and a day since they’d met that magical evening in Houston, but the memory was still as strong and vivid as if it had only been yesterday.

After they’d split the bill that evening, Shane had insisted on being the one to leave a generous tip for the wait staff. Then he’d walked with her to The Rio, the hotel lounge that provided music and high-priced drinks to some of Houston’s more exclusive crowd.

Shane wasn’t used to hanging out at places like that, and he knew he’d been underdressed, but he’d been with Jillian, who belonged to that world.

“The music sounds good,” she’d said.

At that point, being with her would make anything sound good. But she’d been right. The band was great.

As they’d made their way toward an empty table near the dance floor, Shane had placed his hand on the small of her back, claiming her in front of all the rich, fancy folks who’d gathered for an after-dinner drink.

She’d leaned against him and slid her arm around his waist in a move that seemed so natural, so right, that he wanted to hang on tight and never let go.

Then the music, something soft and slow, began to play and he hadn’t been able to do anything other than to pull her into his embrace and dance cheek to cheek. As they’d swayed to a love song, as he’d inhaled her tropical scent, she’d melded into him as though they’d been made to dance with each other for the rest of their lives.

Something powerful had surged between them, something hot, soul stirring and arousing.

He’d taken her hand and brushed his lips across her wrist. As she’d looked at him, her lips parting, she’d gripped his shoulder as though her knees would have buckled if she hadn’t.

And that’s when he’d kissed her. Right there in the middle of that crowded dance floor.

As their lips parted, his tongue had sought hers, and they were swept away to some carnal place, where the music stopped and the room grew silent. At least, he could have sworn it had happened that way.

For a moment, he’d forgotten where they were, who they were. All he’d been aware of was a raging desire that promised to bring about something he’d never experienced before.

Then the music really did stop, and he’d come to his senses, albeit reluctantly. As he broke the kiss, he’d continued to hold Jillian tight, and with his lips resting near her temple, he’d confessed, “I don’t normally do things like this.”

“Neither do I.”

As they’d slowly stepped apart, she’d closed her eyes and, after taking a deep breath, said, “I…uh…have a room upstairs.”

Shane hadn’t been sure he’d heard right or if he’d somehow come to the wrong conclusion, so he’d waited a beat, hoping she’d spell it out for him. Then she did just that by taking his hand and leading him out of The Rio and to the elevators.

As the memory rolled on, just as it did each time a specific clip from that night began to play in his mind, he tried his best to shake it off. But damn. What an amazing evening that had been.

If truth be told, he’d been more than a little sorry that it had ended before he’d gotten a chance to see if a long-distance relationship between two people with nothing in common but great sex could actually work.

Now, as he gripped the steering wheel of his pickup and watched the street signs for Bluebonnet Court, the heated memory still remained front and center in his mind.

Of course, seeing her again didn’t mean he was interested in starting a relationship. It was just a matter of satisfying his curiosity.

Would Jillian be glad to see him? Had she, too, found it impossible to forget all they’d shared that night?

Shane certainly hoped so. He’d just have to take things one step at a time.

As he turned and drove down the tree-lined street and approached a modest apartment complex, he wondered if the address he’d found for her was wrong. Jillian had been dressed to the nines and sporting diamonds when they’d met, and this neighborhood didn’t seem like the part of town that would suit her taste or her designer pocketbook.

But there was only one way to find out.

He parked his truck in one of the spaces available for guests, then made his way to Jillian’s apartment, hoping she was home.

And that she’d be glad to see him.

When the doorbell sounded, Jillian had been sitting on the sofa, reading over her college schedule. She hadn’t been expecting company, and since she hadn’t found time to meet any of the neighbors, she wasn’t sure who it could be.

She had a feeling it might be her grandmother, though. Ever since Jillian had moved into the apartment, Gram had been stopping by with one surprise or another, such as kitchen gadgets, household necessities and decorator items.

Yesterday, she’d brought a framed watercolor print that she’d picked up at a garage sale, which was now hanging on the living room wall. That particular piece of art was a far cry from the expensive paintings and sculptures that had adorned the various homes Jillian had once shared with Thomas, but it reflected her new, simple lifestyle.

During the course of her marriage, Jillian had tried so hard to do everything Thomas and his family had expected her to do that she’d almost forgotten who she really was. So she was determined to reclaim herself and become the woman she should have been before Thomas Wilkes had come along. And creating a home for herself, decorated to her own taste and comfort, was part of the process.

Expecting to see Gram with another surprise in her arms, Jillian swung open the door with a smile. But when she spotted Shane Hollister, the smile faded and surprise took its place.

The cowboy was just as handsome as she remembered, maybe more so. And his smile, which was both boyish and shy, sent her senses reeling.

“I would have called first, but I didn’t have your number.” He lifted the brim of his hat with an index finger.

He hadn’t had her address, either, but she was so stunned to see him again, so mesmerized by his familiar, musky scent, that she couldn’t seem to find the words to respond or to question him.

But her gaze was hard at work, checking him out and soaking him in. He’d shaved, which had softened his rugged edge a bit, but he still wore a Stetson, jeans and boots—clearly a cowboy through and through.

“If this isn’t a good time,” he said, those luscious brown eyes glimmering as he broke the silence, “I can come back another day.”

“No, it’s not that.” She stepped aside to let him in. “It’s just that I…”

“…didn’t expect to see me again?” He tossed her a crooked grin that darn near turned her inside out.

She managed a smile of her own. “How’d you find me? I didn’t even have an address to give you when we met.”

“It’s amazing what a person can learn over the internet.”

Jillian wasn’t sure if she should be happy he’d found her or concerned by it. After all, she didn’t know very much about him, other than the fact that he hadn’t always been a cowboy, and that he was divorced.

And that he’d claimed to be a tumbleweed, while they’d had dinner that night, which was a little worrisome. If he was indeed prone to wander and not set down roots, he wouldn’t be the kind of father she wanted for her baby. That alone had seemed like the perfect excuse not to contact him so far.

Not that she’d made a solid decision yet. She would need to know more about him before she could allow him to be involved in the baby’s upbringing.

And as luck would have it, here was her chance. So she swept her arm toward the brown tweed sofa that had once been in Gram’s den and the faux leather recliner that had belonged to her grandfather. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.” He placed his hat on one side of the sofa, then sat on the middle cushion. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Just her conscience and her good sense.

“No, not really.” She combed her fingers through her hair, suddenly wondering what she looked like without any makeup, without having used a brush since this morning.

“I have a family function in Houston,” he said, “so, while I was in the area, I thought I’d stop by and say hello. I also thought it might be nice to have dinner together.”

The last time they’d shared a meal, she’d invited him to spend the night. Was he expecting the same thing to happen again?

She could certainly see where he might. When they’d danced in each other’s arms at The Rio, the sexual attraction had ignited. She’d never had a one-night stand before, so she’d struggled with her conscience before inviting him up to her room. But only momentarily.

Once she’d had that sweet experience, she hadn’t been sorry about it, either. Shane had been an incredible lover who’d done amazing things with his hands and his mouth, taking her places she’d never gone before. Ever.

If truth be told, she was sorely tempted to have him take her there again.

But look where sexual attraction and throwing caution to the wind had gotten her—pregnant with the cowboy’s baby.

“What do you say?” he asked, clearly picking up on how torn she was between a yes or a no.

Getting involved with him again would certainly complicate her life, so she was tempted to decline and send him on his way. But what did she know about the man who’d fathered her baby? And what was she supposed to tell her child when he or she inevitably asked the daddy questions?

“We really don’t have much in common,” she admitted. Nothing other than a baby, of course.

“Well, we don’t know that for sure. We never really had a chance to talk much that night.”

He was right about that. Even though they’d known each other’s bodies intimately, the rugged cowboy was pretty much a stranger to her—as she was to him.

But he’d also put her healing process on the fast track and had made her feel desirable again.

So did that make them friendly strangers?

Or strangers with benefits…?

Jillian fiddled momentarily with the silver pendant that dangled from her necklace, then made the decision. “All right. Let me freshen up and change my clothes.”

His smile nearly took her breath away, as he leaned back in his seat. “No problem. Take your time.”

Thirty minutes later, she and Shane entered a little Italian restaurant he’d recommended. She’d chosen to dress casually in black jeans and a pale blue sweater.

At least on the outside, she and Shane appeared to be a better match than they had before, but for some reason she felt like a late-blooming high school senior about to enter the adult world for the first time.

“This place isn’t as nice as the hotel restaurant,” Shane said, “but the food is out of this world.”

Jillian took a hearty whiff of tomatoes and basil, not doubting Shane about the taste. “It sure smells good.”

After the hostess seated them at a quiet table for two, a busboy brought them water with lemon and a basket of freshly baked bread.

“So what do you do for a living?” Shane asked.

Jillian had planned to be the first one to start asking questions, but she supposed they both had a lot to learn about each other. “Right now, I’m planning to go back to school, but I’ll be looking for part-time work soon.”

“What kind of job did you have before?”

She hated to admit that she’d never worked, even though she’d kept pretty busy. But she doubted that he’d care about her philanthropic endeavors—the hospital board on which she’d served or the women’s club, of which she’d been the chair. She was proud of her contributions, of course, but her heart hadn’t been in the projects that had been hand chosen by Thomas—or rather, by his mother. The trouble was, until recently, her volunteerism had been her life, her work. Her only legitimate purpose in the world.

For some reason, she felt as though she ought to apologize or make excuses while explaining that she had high hopes for the future. “I didn’t have a regular job, but I did volunteer work for several charitable organizations over the past few years.”

He seemed to mull that over for a moment, then reached for the bread basket, pulled back the linen cloth that kept it warm and offered her the first slice, which she took.

“So you’re going to take some college classes?” he asked.

“I’m getting a teaching credential.”

“Oh, yeah? You must like kids.”

“I do.”

“But, if I remember correctly, you don’t have any of your own.”

It wasn’t actually a question, just a conclusion he’d obviously come to after something she must have told him. She supposed there was no real reason to respond.

If truth be told, she’d always longed to have a baby—at least two or three. But she and Thomas had never been able to conceive—at least, not together.

And now here she was—unwed and pregnant.

The waiter stopped by to take their orders, which was a relief since she really didn’t want to talk about babies with Shane right now. But her luck didn’t hold.

Once they were alone again, he picked up right where he’d left off. “I guess teaching would be the next best thing to having kids of your own.”

Not really. That thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. Leaving kids out of the equation, she said, “Actually I’d like to be a high school English teacher.”

Shane arched an eyebrow, his skepticism drawing another smile from her, even though she ought to be miffed that he seemed to be as cynical as Thomas had been when she’d first told him her plan to return to college and get her credential.

“Teenagers can be a real pain to deal with,” he said. “Why not teach kindergarten or one of the lower grades?”

“Because I love the written word. And I’d like to make literature and grammar interesting to teenagers, especially those without college aspirations. I want to encourage them to reach their full potential.” She studied his expression, hoping that he was merely questioning the age of the students she wanted to teach and not the work she wanted to do.

When he didn’t seem to find her dream unusual or unfitting, she added, “And not just any kids. I want to work with bright but unmotivated teens from lower socio-economic backgrounds who believe that college is out of their reach.”

“No kidding?”

She shrugged, waiting for him to give her the same, patronizing response Thomas had when she’d shared her plans with him.

Instead, he grinned, creating a pair of sexy dimples in his cheeks. “I hated English in school, but with a teacher like you, I would have tried a lot harder.”

When he looked at her like that, when he smiled, her heart soared in the same way it had the night they’d met. Just being with him again and feeling the growing buzz of sexual awareness was enough to remind her why she’d taken him back to her room, why she’d given in to sweet temptation.

It didn’t take a psychic to see that she’d be tempted to take him to bed again, once he took her home.

So now what?

Why had he come looking for her? Was he interested in making love one more time?

Or was he missing her, missing this—their time together?

Did he want to actually date her? And if so, how did she feel about that?

Long-distance relationships didn’t usually work out. Not that Jillian was ready for anything like that to develop between them. After all, she’d made one mistake by believing a man to be honorable when he wasn’t. She certainly didn’t want to make another one by acting too soon.

Still, spending time with Shane was making her realize that she hadn’t been permanently damaged by her husband’s infidelity and that the right man would come along someday.

Would that man be Shane Hollister?

It was impossible to know after only two evenings together. Besides, she had the baby to consider. So she might as well feel him out about that.

“How about you?” she asked. “Do you have any children?”

The spark in his eyes dimmed, and he seemed to tense. For several long, drawn-out heartbeats, he held his tongue, and she felt compelled to apologize, to sympathize—to do or say something, although she didn’t have a clue what.

Finally, he answered, “No, I don’t.”

Something in his tone, in his demeanor, made her wonder if he liked it that way. If so, how would he react when she finally told him about the baby? Would he be happy? Uneasy? Angry?

Would he worry about being responsible—financially or otherwise—for a child he’d never intended to have?

As curious as she was, as much as his answers mattered, she didn’t push for more. She wasn’t ready for a full-on discussion about babies or kids right now, so she opted to change the subject.

“You mentioned that you used to work in Houston. What did you do?”

He reached for his goblet of water, then took a drink. Finally he said, “I worked for the Houston Police Department, first as a patrolman, then as a detective.”

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say—that he’d been in sales, she supposed. Or that he’d had a dead-end job of some kind. But a police officer?

Not only did that surprise her, it made her feel a whole lot better about him and the man he was.

“Why did you quit?” she asked.

He grew quiet again, as if she’d unearthed something he didn’t want to talk about. Then he shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

Which meant what? That she wasn’t going to get any more out of him than that?

Who was Shane Hollister?

Before she could quiz him further, the waiter brought their food, lasagna for him and pasta primavera for her, creating a momentary lull in the conversation.

While Shane picked up his fork, Jillian asked again, this time point blank, “Why did you leave the police force?”

Shane dug into his lasagna and took a bite, hoping Jillian would get the hint that he didn’t want to talk in detail about the past. There were too many mitigating factors that had caused him to leave the force, too much other stuff to reveal. And no matter how much he enjoyed her company, he wasn’t ready to spill his guts yet. And he wasn’t sure he’d ever be.

“Like I told you,” he said, “it’s complicated.”

She waited a beat, yet didn’t let up on him. “Okay, then tell me about yourself. Where were you born? What kind of childhood did you have?”

He supposed he couldn’t blame her for being curious. He had a lot of questions for her, too.

“There’s not much to tell,” he said. “I was born in Houston and grew up as the youngest of three boys and two girls in a big, close-knit family.”

She leaned forward, as if he’d told her something interesting. “It’s nice that you have a big family.”

He’d always thought so. He watched her spear a piece of broccoli with her fork. The candlelight glistened on the platinum strands of her hair, making her appear radiant and almost…angelic.

Unaware of his gaze, she looked up and smiled. “I never knew my father, so it was only my mom and me at first. After my mother died, I moved in with my grandparents. I’m afraid it’s just Gram and me now.”

Marcia had been an only child, too, which had made it nearly impossible for her to relate to a big, rambunctious family like the Hollisters.

Shane had a feeling Jillian would feel the same way if she ever met them. And that was just one more reason a relationship with her wouldn’t work out.

But tell that to his hormones. Damn, she was a beautiful woman, even if she was mortal and prone to imperfections.

So why couldn’t he spot any of them?

As she lifted her water goblet, brought it to her lips and swallowed, he followed the simple movement as it moved down her throat.

When he’d kissed her there that night, running his tongue along her neck and throat, she’d come alive in his arms.

Had the memory ingrained itself in her mind, too?

He kept reminding himself that they really weren’t suited, but that didn’t seem to matter right now.

“So what was it like growing up as one of five kids?” she asked, as if she had no idea he’d been ogling her from across the table.

“It was okay, I guess.” He’d idolized his older siblings until his teenage years, when he’d found them bossy and a real pain in the ass. But in retrospect, he realized they’d just been looking out for him, even if they’d sometimes overstepped their boundaries.

He’d actually thought his family had been the typical, all-American variety until he married Marcia. She’d been annoyed by them and couldn’t understand the closeness they’d shared. In fact, she’d thought they were intrusive and out of line most of the time.

It had made life pretty miserable for everyone, not just her and Shane.

But it had been more than his family that had bothered her. She’d hated his job, too.

When Shane was promoted to detective, his marriage seemed to get better because he’d received a pay increase and was no longer patrolling the city streets. He’d also known better than to vent about the ugliness that he saw nearly every day. Instead, he’d stretched the truth and made his job sound safe and routine.

But Marcia hadn’t bought it. When she’d accused him of cheating on her with his partner—something he hadn’t done—he’d finally thrown in the towel.

Shane wondered what Jillian would say if she knew how many of his family members worked in one law enforcement field or another. Or if he told her that he’d wanted to be a cop ever since he could remember and that he’d once believed he’d been born to wear a badge.

Stuff like that hadn’t mattered to Marcia. She’d hated everything about his line of work, which was why she’d eventually been the one to cheat, something he’d learned after the fact.

“You’re not very forthcoming,” Jillian said.

He hadn’t meant to clam up completely. “I’m sorry. It’s just that my ex-wife didn’t like my family or my job. So when you start asking me about either one of them, I get a little defensive and cryptic. It’s an old habit, I guess.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

To hear what? That he had old baggage and habits?

He didn’t want her to think that he was still dealing with the aftereffects of his divorce. “For what it’s worth, I did everything I could think of to make my marriage work. I went so far as to buy a house in a small town about an hour or so from Houston, even though that meant I’d have a big commute each day.”

“It didn’t help?”

“No, it was more than my family dynamics creating problems. My ex used to push me to change careers, to find a job that paid more money, a position that would allow me to spend more time at home. But that was one compromise I wasn’t willing to make.”

“So now you’re a tumbleweed. You can come and go as you please.”

“Yeah, I guess you can say that.”

She grew silent, and while he was tempted to get the conversation back on track, he wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t lead him back to the things he didn’t want to discuss. Like the losses he’d suffered—his wife through divorce, his son through death and his career by choice.

“I have a question I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said.

“What’s that?” She picked up her napkin and blotted her lips.

He couldn’t see any reason to tiptoe around it, so he came right out and laid it on the table. “Do you ever think about the night we met?”