* * *
At two o’clock, he gave up the fight to sleep. He was wired, and his body pulsed with arousal, his sex full and hard. Neither of which condition was conducive to slumber. The New York Times bestseller he had opened failed to hold his attention past the first chapter. Cursing as he climbed out of his warm bed to pace the floor, he stopped suddenly and listened.
Faintly, but distinctly, he heard a baby cry.
It was all the excuse he needed. Throwing a thin, gray wool robe over his navy silk sleep pants, he padded into the hall, glad of the thick socks that Hattie had packed for him. Undoubtedly she had imagined him needing them if it snowed and he wore his boots. But they happened to be perfect for a man who wanted to move stealthily about the house.
In the hallway, he paused, trying to locate his landlady. There was a faint light under her door, but not Teddy’s. The kid cried again, a fretful, middle-of-the-night whimper. Without weighing the consequences, Leo knocked.
Seconds later, the door opened a crack. Phoebe peered out at him, her expression indiscernible in the gloom. “What’s wrong? What do you want?”
Her stage whisper was comical given the fact that Teddy was clearly awake.
“You need some backup?”
“I’m fine.” She started to close the door, but he stuck his foot in the gap, remembering at the last instant that he wasn’t wearing shoes.
She pushed harder than he anticipated, and his socks were less protection than he expected. Pain shot up his leg. He groaned, jerking backward and nearly falling on his ass. Hopping on one foot, he pounded his fist against the wall to keep from letting loose with a string of words definitely not rated for kid ears.
Now Phoebe flung the door open wide, her face etched in dismay. “Are you hurt? Oh, heavens, of course you are. Here,” she said. “Hold him while I get ice.”
Without warning, his arms were full of a squirmy little body that smelled of spit-up and Phoebe’s light floral scent. “But I…” He followed her down the hall, wincing at every step, even as Teddy’s grumbles grew louder.
By the time he made it to the living room, Phoebe had turned on a couple of lamps and filled a dish towel with ice cubes. Her fingers curled around his biceps. “Give me the baby and sit down,” she said, sounding frazzled and irritated, and anything but amorous. She pushed him toward the sofa. “Put your leg on the couch and let me see if you broke anything.”
Teddy objected to the jostling and cried in earnest. Leo lost his balance and flopped down onto the sofa so hard that the baby’s head and Leo’s chin made contact with jarring force.
“Damn it to hell.” He lay back, half-dazed, as Phoebe plucked Teddy from his arms and sat at the opposite end of the sofa. Before he could object, she had his leg in her lap and was peeling off his sock.
When slim, cool fingers closed around the bare arch of his foot, Leo groaned again. This time for a far different reason. Having Phoebe stroke his skin was damned arousing, even if he was in pain. Her thumb pressed gently, moving from side to side to assess the damage.
Leo hissed, a sharp involuntary inhalation. Phoebe winced. “Sorry. Am I hurting you too badly?”
She glanced sideways and her eyes grew big. His robe had opened when he lost his balance. Most of his chest was bare, and it was impossible to miss the erection that tented his sleep pants. He actually saw the muscles in her throat ripple as she swallowed.
“It feels good,” he muttered. “Don’t stop.”
But Teddy shrieked in earnest now, almost inconsolable.
Phoebe dropped Leo’s foot like it was a live grenade, scooting out from under his leg and standing. “Put the ice on it,” she said, sounding breathless and embarrassed. “I’ll be back.”
* * *
Phoebe sank into the rocker in Teddy’s room, her whole body trembling with awareness. The baby curled into her shoulder as she rubbed his back and sang to him quietly. He wasn’t hungry. She had given him a bottle barely an hour ago. His only problem now was that his mouth hurt. She’d felt the tiny sharp edge of a tooth on his bottom gum and knew it was giving him fits. “Poor darling,” she murmured. Reaching for the numbing drops, she rubbed a small amount on his sore mouth.
Teddy sucked her fingertip, snuffled and squirmed, then gradually subsided into sleep. She rocked him an extra five minutes just to make sure. When he was finally out, she laid him in his crib and tiptoed out of the room.
Her bed called out to her. She was weaving on her feet, wrapped in a thick blanket of exhaustion. But she had told Leo she would come back. And in truth, nothing but cowardice could keep her from fulfilling that promise.
When she returned to the living room, it was filled with shadows, only a single lamp burning, though Leo had started another fire in the grate that gave off some illumination. He was watching television, but he switched it off as soon as she appeared. She hovered in the doorway, abashed by the sexual currents drawing her to this enigma of a man. “How’s the foot?”