Playboys' Christmas Surprises. Catherine MannЧитать онлайн книгу.
Porter.
The woman jogged the last few steps and hugged Alaina hard before stepping back, her hands clasped to her chest. “Oh my God, Alaina, I thought that was you.” The woman scrunched her nose, crinkling zinc oxide into the creases. “I forgot for a minute you can’t remember all of us. I’m Sage Harding. Your neighbor. I like to think I’m your friend, even if we only see each other a couple of times a year for holidays.”
A couple of times a year? But Porter had said they came here often. Perhaps Sage didn’t come as often and so their paths only crossed a couple of times a year. Alaina wanted to believe that. Porter had no reason to lie.
She didn’t understand her need to believe the worst in him, to be so suspicious of his every word.
They were married. There was ample proof. And they’d adopted a child together. They had a beautiful life—if she could just bring herself to accept it.
“Thank you for coming over to speak to me, Sage. That makes me feel less like an amnesia freak or a patient.”
“Honey, you can’t help what happened to you.” Sage sat on a teal Adirondack chair next to the hammock. “You were in a car accident.”
“I understand the facts in my mind, but it’s difficult to trust my mind these days.” She rolled her eyes at her own lame joke. “But enough about my medical woes. Tell me about yourself. Where are you from? Are you here with your family? How did we become friends?”
“Wow, that’s a lot of questions.” Sage held up her fingers, holiday-green glitter polish on short nails. “I’m from the D.C. area. My husband’s in the House of Representatives, so we keep this house to stay Florida residents. Our two kids go to boarding school. And you and I became friends at an art gallery fund-raiser for the homeless.”
That all rang true and fit with everything Porter had been telling her. “What type of art do you enjoy?”
“Oh, I don’t know jack about art.” Sage waved a self-deprecating hand. “I was there for the canapés, champagne and movie-star company. And helping the homeless. I like being a part of charity work. It’s a rewarding way to spend my time.”
“That’s nice.” Alaina wasn’t sure what else to say to this refreshingly honest woman.
Sage leaned closer, her elbows on her knees. “Are you okay, really okay? I’ve been so worried. I came by the hospital when I heard and left flowers. But you weren’t allowed to have visitors. I would have a baby shower for you, but that might be awkward just now. Maybe we’ll wait until you get your memory back.”
“I think that’s best. And I’m still...resting.”
“Oh, right. Silly me. I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just so glad to see you and wanted to make sure you and Porter are doing okay.”
Now that was a loaded statement. Alaina opted for an answer that wouldn’t land her in hot water. “We’re enjoying being parents.”
“How is your little guy’s foot?”
“Healing.”
“I’m so relieved.” Sage studied her matching Christmas-green toenails for three crashes of the waves. “I wasn’t sure you would be back this year after, well, your male visitor last Christmas.”
Alaina forced herself to stay still. There was no answer to that revelation and she sure as hell wasn’t going to quiz a virtual stranger. “Thank you for stopping by.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything. I thought maybe he’d contacted you and I wanted to be sure you knew. I mean well.” She pushed to her feet and dusted sand off her legs. “Please accept my apology.”
“Accepted. It’s tough to know the right thing to say. Amnesia isn’t an everyday occurrence and it’s difficult to know how to handle it.” Alaina stood and saw Porter walking down the bluff carrying a picnic basket and an insulated bag. “There’s my husband.”
Sage crinkled her nose again. “That’s my cue to leave.”
“Merry Christmas to you and your family.”
“To you and yours, too, honey.” Sage squeezed Alaina’s hand quickly. “Enjoy your baby’s first visit from Santa Claus.”
Santa Claus?
Of course. She should be focusing on Thomas’s first Christmas. On doing normal family things like picking out toys for him to enjoy over the next year. Or making Christmas cookies, as her mother had always done as far back as Alaina could remember. Starting her own family traditions with Porter.
Or had they had traditions? Tough to tell in this generic-looking house without her own personal stamp.
She wanted that homey holiday life so desperately. Wanted to be normal again. To be herself again. Whatever that meant and whoever that was.
If things were normal, she and Porter might be standing in line somewhere, debating how to spoil their beautiful new son.
Anxiety ebbed back into her chest. Not that it was ever far away.
The thought of melting away into a crowd sounded a lot more appealing now than it had earlier.
A quick glance back down the sandy path toward the vacation home revealed that Porter had already started to make his way toward her. He was only about ten feet away and just the sight of him took her breath away all over again.
She allowed herself to examine him fully as he approached, basket in hand. His broad shoulders and chest, the clear suggestion of muscles beneath his casual light blue button-down. The way his jawline appeared to be chiseled out of marble. Strong. Defined. Like some of the statues she used to have in her old apartment.
But it was the lightness in his demeanor, the force of his smile that made her heart hammer. While he was made up of hard angles, his smile made him seem approachable. Understanding. Maybe even affectionate.
Was that what she’d seen in him from the first?
She wanted to kiss him. To know what they were like together. In bed. Or in the shower. Or in the dozens of other places her imagination wandered with fantasies.
Or were those memories? She couldn’t be sure. There had been an undeniable physical connection between them from the moment she’d seen him in the hospital. It had laced each of their conversations so far. Amnesia or not, that much of a connection had persisted.
How could she have looked at another man as Sage had not too subtly insinuated?
Alaina had wondered more than once if Porter had been hiding something from her. She just hadn’t considered that whatever he might be hiding was her fault.
* * *
Sunglasses shielding his eyes from the late-morning sun, Porter jogged down the last step cut into the bluff, his deck shoes hitting sand. He’d expected to find his wife napping in the hammock. Not chatting with their gossipy neighbor. Hell, he’d even checked with the staff to make sure the Hardings wouldn’t be here for Christmas.
Apparently, staff intel was wrong.
Sage Harding fanned a wave at him as she slid her own sunglasses back on her face and sashayed through the sea oats and around a bluff back to her white mansion on stilts.
Between his mother and Sage, he couldn’t catch a break. Although a voice in the back of his mind persisted that he didn’t deserve one. He was deliberately keeping parts of their past from his wife. He tamped down that voice, not just for his own reasons but for her sake, as well. The doctor had said not to push her, but rather to let her recover the missing years on her own.
All the CT scans and MRI scans hadn’t shown any brain damage, and yet her coma had persisted. The doc had said her mind was most likely protecting herself from something she wasn’t ready to deal with. Again that voice piped up that maybe she didn’t want to recall how close they’d been to signing