A Fortune's Children's Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page A

or communicate with anyone if you have a problem.”
    “Are you done lecturing me?” she demanded, even though she knew he was right.
    “For the moment.” His harsh expression softened a bit. “Until you come up with some other lamed-brained idea. Now, just take it easy. It looks like you and I are going to have to wait out this storm. Together.” He slid a glance at the sleeping baby. “Just the three of us.” His slate-colored eyes told her that he wasn’t any happier with the situation than she. “Yell if you need anything.” He turned on his heel and left, but his dog gave off a weary sigh and curled up near the bed, sad eyes on the light spilling through the open doorway as if he intended to guard the place.
    Just the three of us. The words had an odd ring to them. For the past six months Lesley had told herself she was alone and that’s the way she wanted things—a single woman making her way in a man’s world. She had been certain that even after the baby was born, she wouldn’t want another man in her life. No way. No how. One marriage was enough, thank you very much.
    She felt her eyelids grown heavy and gave in to the sleep that might ease the throbbing in her ankle and the lingering pain deep inside from the birth. She wouldn’t impose on Chase Fortune too much, she thought, drifting off, but for now, she didn’t have any say in the matter. The best thing to do was trust inhim, accept his hospitality and eventually, when she was up and on her feet again, find a way to repay him.
    When she awoke, there was music coming from the living room. Over the sounds of pots rattling, the fire crackling and Angela’s soft breathing, Lesley heard the fragmented strains of a Christmas carol.
    “The first Noel, the angels did say…”
    “Merry Christmas,” she whispered to her baby and let slumber overtake her as thoughts of her new child, guardian angels and a very tough-looking rancher filled her head.
     
    “Waaaa!”
    The cry started out as a whimper, but quickly rose to a lusty full-blown wail.
    Chase was just pulling the chicken out of the oven, and he heard Lesley’s voice, muted and soft from sleep, as she talked to the infant who had one helluva set of lungs.
    Within seconds the noise quieted, and Chase suspected that Lesley was feeding her daughter. Rather than interrupt, he cut up the chicken, placed the hot vegetables and meat on a platter and poured the gravy, if you could call it that, over the meat and potatoes.
    By the time he carried a tray into the bedroom, Lesley was buttoning up her nightgown, but Chase caught a glimpse of one perfectly rounded breast. A dark, wet nipple peeked at him. He looked away quickly, but not before she met his gaze with her own, and for a heart-stopping second, he was lost.
    “How’s—how’s she doing?” Chase asked as he set the tray on the nightstand near the bed.
    “Fine, I think.” Lesley’s finely arched eyebrows drew together. “Near as I can tell. She eats well and sleeps all right and…has a decent voice on her.”
    “I noticed,” he said drily. “I’ll be right back.” He walked into the living room and wondered why he felt so compelled to wait on her hand and foot. She didn’t seem the kind of woman who expected that kind of treatment, but, for the first time since Emily’s death, he felt a need to protect and help her and her tiny daughter. He consoled himself with the thought that this was only for a few days, until she was able to take care of herself and her baby and the storm had passed. Then she was on her own. He dug in the small closet where he’d seen an old TV tray, compliments of the previous owners. Quickly washing it off with a rag, he returned to the bedroom with the tray and a lantern.
    Next he opened his bottom dresser drawer, dumped the jeans onto the top of the bureau and lined the empty drawer with a blanket. “I’m fresh out of bassinets and cribs,” he explained, gently lifting Angela from her mother’s arms