A Child for Christmas Read online

  “We’re two breaths away from being lovers.”

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Books by Allison Leigh

  ALLISON LEIGH

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Teaser chapter

  Copyright

  “We’re two breaths away from being lovers.”

  “And I know it because we’ve been lovers before,” Sawyer said, continuing. “I might not remember when or why, but I remember that.”

  Rebecca’s knees started to buckle. She grabbed on to his last words like a drowning man. “What do you remember?” She forced the words through the vise that her throat had become.

  “I remember this,” he said, his thumb brushing over her lips. He lowered his head alongside hers and drew in a slow breath. “I remember the way you smell. The way you feel.”

  Afraid to move, afraid to stay, Rebecca closed her eyes.

  “Come on, Bec, tell me the truth before I go insane.”

  So his instincts might be flying off the charts of accuracy, but he didn’t truly remember.

  His mouth covered hers before she could finish his name. And when he finally lifted his head, Rebecca couldn’t lie. “Yes,” she whispered hoarsely. “We were lovers.”

  Dear Reader,

  Back by popular demand, MONTANA MAVERICKS: RETURN TO WHITEHORN reappears in Special Edition! Just in time for the Yuletide season, unwrap our exciting 2-in-1 A Montana Mavencks Christmas collection by Susan Mallery and Karen Hughes. And next month, look for more passion beneath the big blue Whitehorn sky with A Family Homecoming by Laurie Paige.

  Reader favorite Arlene James makes a special delivery with Baby Boy Blessed. In this heartwarming THAT’S MY BABY! story, a cooing infant on the doorstep just might turn two virtual strangers into lifelong partners...in love!

  The holiday cheer continues with Wyoming Wildcat by Myrna Temte. Don’t miss book four of the HEARTS OF WYOMING series, which features a fun-loving rodeo champ who sets out to win the wary heart of one love-shy single mom. And you better watch out, ’cause Daddy Claus is coming to town! In this tender tale by Robin Lee Hatcher, a pretend couple discovers how nice it might be to be a family forever.

  Rounding off a month of sparkling romance, Wedding Bells and Mistletoe by veteran author Trisha Alexander launches the CALLAHANS & KIN miniseries with a deeply emotional story about a forbidden passion—and a long-buried secret—that can no longer be denied. And dreams come true for two tempestuous lovers in A Child for Christmas by Allison Leigh—the next installment in the MEN OF THE DOUBLE-C RANCH series.

  I hope you enjoy all these romances. All of us here at Silhouette wish you a joyous holiday season!

  Best,

  Karen Taylor Richman

  Senior Editor

  Please address questions and book requests to:

  Silhouette Reader Service

  U.S.. 3010 Walden Ave, P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian. P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont L2A 5X3

  ALLISON LEIGH

  A CHILD FOR CHRISTMAS

  For everyone who believes that love will find a way

  Books by Allison Leigh

  Silhouette Special Edition

  *Stay.. #1170

  *The Rancher and the Redhead #1212

  *A Wedding for Maggie #1241

  *A Child for Christmas #1290

  * Men of the Double-C Ranch

  ALLISON LEIGH

  started early by writing a Halloween play that her grade-school class performed for her school. Since then, though her tastes have changed, her love for reading has not. And her writing appetite simply grows more voracious by the day.

  Born in Southern California, she has lived in eight different cities in four different states. She has been, at one time or another, a cosmetologist, a computer programmer and an administrative assistant.

  Allison and her husband currently make their home in Arizona, where their time is thoroughly filled with two very active daughters, full-time jobs, pets, church, family and friends. In order to give herself the precious writing time she craves, she burns a lot of midnight oil.

  A great believer in the power of love—her parents still hold hands—she cannot imagine anything more exciting to write about than the miracle of two hearts coming together.

  All underlined places are fictitious

  Chapter One

  “Listen, Delaney, I think I’ve got a patient turning into my parking lot. I’ll call you back when I’ve got more time to talk.” Dr. Rebecca Morehouse cradled the phone between her shoulder and ear and tossed the medical file of the patient she’d just seen on a pile of similar files stacked haphazardly across the small desk in her reception area. “Yes, I know you don’t understand how a small town like Weaver could fill up my time so thoroughly. What can I say? Being the only physician in a hundred-mile radius keeps a girl busy.”

  After hanging up, she glanced out the big plate-glass window overlooking the parking lot in front of her office. The vehicle was just parking, and Rebecca slipped her tired feet back into the low-heeled black suede pumps she’d kicked off after seeing her last patient out the door.

  She knew that her dismal mood had more to do with the unfortunate news she’d just given her last patient than any real dissatisfaction with the way her days were filled. Even calling her friend, Delaney Vega, hadn’t totally lifted her somberness.

  Perhaps Delaney was right. That it was time for Rebecca to start actively seeking some fun. To accept one of the dates she was offered—and always refused—on a regular basis. To go out and simply have some fun.

  She heard the muted sound of truck doors closing and absently smoothed her hand down the front of her white lab coat. How long had it been since she’d put aside her mountains of responsibilities and just enjoyed herself?

  Too long. Not since she’d been in school. Not since—

  “Don’t go there,” she murmured to herself. “You’re just tired. And upset that there are some things even you can’t cure.” She pocketed her gold pen and looked up, her professional smile in place, when she saw who’d come into her office. “Hello, Jefferson. I didn’t expect to see you today.”

  Jefferson Clay’s wife, Emily, was only one of her obstetrical patients. Emily’s two sisters-in-law, Maggie and Jaimie, were pregnant also. It seemed that the Clay men had been awfully virile this year. She frowned a little at that errant thought, and tucked her hands in the pockets of her lab coat. “Is Emily all right?”

  Jefferson nodded, still holding the door. All Rebecca saw from her angle was another tall figure slowly walking across the snow-shoveled sidewalk. “Em’s fine,” he said, still watching out the door. “We’ve got a new patient for you, though.”

  Finally, the other man reached the entryway. She felt the blood drain from her head and she reached for the edge of the desk, once again knocking askew the pile of files.

  Now that the second man was inside, Jefferson let the door swing closed and crossed the small reception area, a large manila envelope in his hand. “Records,” he said briefly.

  Rebecca automatically reached for the envelope; knew that her fingers closed over it and held it. But her mind, jarred out of its horrified dysfunction, started racing.

  She’d known this c
ould happen. She’d weighed the possibilities. The likelihood. Made a calculated decision based on a decidedly low risk. She just hadn’t expected, hadn’t thought—

  “This is my brother,” Jefferson was saying and the brother in question finally focused his gaze from perusing her comfortably furnished reception room to studying her face. “Sawyer.”

  Rebecca waited for the derision to cross Sawyer Clay’s face. But it didn’t come. He just stared at her, his dark blue gaze intent. Her heart stopped. She had never thought he’d forget, even though it had been years. But there was no trace of recognition in his eyes. A tight knot of anger formed in her stomach. Anger at herself for assuming he’d remember. Anger at him for not doing so.

  Jefferson rubbed his jaw, glancing at his brother who grimaced when he caught the look. “Might as well tell her,” he said, his low voice raspy. “That’s what we’re here for.”

  Rebecca’s fingers tightened on the large envelope, which experience told her contained medical records and X rays. She couldn’t help staring at Sawyer. He had several neat stitches on his jaw, and if the way he was holding himself was any indication, he’d suffered bruised ribs at a minimum.

  “Sawyer had an accident,” Jefferson told her. “Maybe you ought to just read the file there.”

  Sawyer’s lips thinned, and he stepped closer, sucking the oxygen right out of her lungs as he did so. “What my... brother—” he hesitated over the word as if it didn’t come naturally “—is trying not to say is that there’s a new town freak.” He smiled and Rebecca’s fingers curled at the wealth of frustration she recognized in that faint movement of his lips. “Me.”

  She blinked, glancing down at the envelope in her hands. It wasn’t often that Dr. Rebecca Morehouse was at a loss for words anymore. But then, it wasn’t often that the good town doctor came face-to-face with the ghosts of her past. “Well, we treat everyone equally,” she managed, then blinked again at the wisp of amusement that flitted through Sawyer’s eyes.

  Amusement. But no recognition.

  That possibility had never once occurred to her. How foolish. She turned on her heel and led the way back to her office. “Come inside and have a seat,” she said, pulling on her cloak of training with no small measure of comfort. Both men followed her, and Rebecca couldn’t pretend not to be relieved—though she was fairly certain she hid that fact behind her mask of professionalism.

  Sitting behind the wide mahogany desk she’d brought with her from New York City helped. It had been her husband Tom’s desk and sitting there she could almost feel his presence. Standing behind her, his hand gentle and comforting on her shoulder. Giving her strength as he’d done so well when he’d been alive.

  She blinked and made herself focus on the materials she slid from the envelope. It wouldn’t do for her to just sit there and stare at Sawyer, even if it was her first instinct.

  Jefferson shrugged out of his heavy coat and sat in one of the chairs on the other side of her desk. But Sawyer stood, peering at her diplomas hanging on the wall. As if he could find, hanging there, the secrets of life.

  Her stomach churned as she read the neatly typed records.

  “He was unconscious for nearly a week after the car accident,” Jefferson said. But Rebecca had already read that much in the report, and she looked up to see Sawyer watching her with a speculative expression. The man should be sitting down.

  No. He should still be in bed. In the Maryland hospital where he’d been taken nearly three weeks ago after an accident that would surely have killed him had he not been thrown clear before the car exploded. He certainly shouldn’t be standing here in her office, staring at her without one breath of recognition in his eyes.

  “I can still speak.” He directed the comment at his brother. “I didn’t forget how to string a few words together into a sentence.”

  Rebecca felt more than heard Jefferson’s sigh as he rose. “Then speak,” he said evenly. “And stop standing there like a bump.” He picked up his coat. “I’ll wait outside.”

  She wanted to call out and tell Jefferson not to go. But such behavior was not only unprofessional, it was cowardly. So she folded her hands together atop the surface of her desk and returned Sawyer’s look with a steady one of her own. “Captain, please sit. I’m getting a kink in my neck watching you.”

  His eyes narrowed. “‘Captain’?”

  She swallowed, nudging the medical report with her knuckle. “That’s what it says here.” Considering what she knew about him, she was surprised it hadn’t said Admiral.

  He started to rub the stitches on his jaw, then seemed to think better of it. “Don’t call me that.”

  “That’s what you are.” Capt. Sawyer Clay, United States Navy.

  He shrugged, grimaced, then sat. Rebecca noted his pale coloring and the faint sheen of perspiration on his forehead. Swallowing, she rose and walked behind his chair, reaching for his coat.

  “What are you doing?”

  She lifted her hands peaceably. “You’d be more comfortable without your coat,” she said. “Both now and when you put it back on to go outside.”

  He surrendered the leather bomber jacket with a slight frown. She tossed it over the other chair, then resumed her seat behind the safety of her desk. “Why are you here, Captain?”

  Sawyer eyed the cool woman sitting across from him, her hands folded neatly together atop the file of stuff he’d brought with him. His brother—just telling himself he had siblings seemed odd—had told him that the town doctor was young and female. But Jefferson hadn’t said that she was startlingly beautiful. He hadn’t said anything about lustrous brown hair waving to the shoulders of her white lab coat that, he’d also noticed, covered a pale yellow sweater that clung to some mighty interesting curves. Nor had he said anything about wide-set golden-brown eyes that watched a man from beneath level brows in a perfectly oval, creamy face.

  “Captain?”

  He shifted. He still ached in every joint of his body. “Isn’t it obvious why I’m here?”

  Her eyebrows rose a fraction. “You suffered a head injury as a result of an automobile accident.”

  “You didn’t finish reading.”

  “No, I—”

  “Have we met?” He didn’t expect her to blanch the way she did. He’d thought Jefferson had said the doc was relatively new to town. But he might have gotten it wrong. God knew his brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders right now. “Sorry,” he said abruptly. “My brand of humor these days.”

  She frowned, making a narrow crease appear between her barely arching eyebrows. She looked back down at the report, obviously reading what she hadn’t yet come to. Her beautiful face revealed her growing shock.

  “Amnesia,” he said flatly. “Hell of a note, isn’t it?” His attention focused on her lips when they pressed together for a moment, drawing his interest in a way he was pretty sure she wouldn’t appreciate. “Bet you don’t have many cases like mine come through your doors.”

  Finally she looked up from the report. “No,” she admitted, her voice husky. Then she briskly cleared her throat. “This must be very frustrating and upsetting for you. But most cases of amnesia resolve themselves after—”

  “Save the techno jargon,” Sawyer interrupted. He’d already heard more than he could stand from the doctors at the hospital. “I’m only here ’cause the powers that be said they’d haul me back east in restraints if I didn’t get medical care out here. There’s even a form in there that you’ll have to fill out and send in.” And another form that she’d have to fill out if—when—he was up to snuff and could report back for duty.

  “Why are you here?” she asked. “Surely you were advised not to travel.”

  “Apparently Jefferson has some clout,” Sawyer said carelessly. He didn’t care what means his brother had used to secure his hospital release the way he had. One more minute in that hospital bed with the nurses from hell and he’d have jumped out the third-story window for relief.

  “I see.” B
ut clearly, the lovely doctor did not, and her expression said so. She rose and shuffled the contents of the envelope into a pile, which she tucked into a folder she pulled from a desk drawer. “Let’s take a look.”

  He followed her along the short hallway that broke off into two examining rooms that faced each other. The door at the end was closed, and he immediately wondered what was behind it. He already knew it wasn’t her office.

  Figuring out he had an intensely curious nature had been just one of many discoveries over the past several days since he’d regained consciousness. Whether that curiosity had more to do with the fact that he hadn’t recognized a single person around him, much less his own reflection in a mirror, or with his ordinary nature, he didn’t know.

  “Captain?”

  He realized she was waiting and walked past her into the room, getting a faint whiff of her perfume. It tantalized his senses.

  Soft.

  He drew in another breath without thought as he dropped his coat onto the side chair by the door.

  The scent was heady.

  Familiar.

  It was all he could do not to grab her. “What perfume are you wearing?”

  Her eyes widened a fraction. She stepped into the exam room, moving toward the counter across from where he stood. She left the door open, he noticed. “I really don’t see—”