The Holiday Triplets (13 page)

“I will if she arrives in time.” Wryly, he added, “Or if she arrives at all.”

“She has to,” Sam told him briskly. “I've got space in my cabinet all picked out for that glassware you're going to buy me.”

He'd almost forgotten their bet. “While I'd like to get
my kiss under the mistletoe, I hope you're right.” Besides, going to a yard sale might be fun. Especially if Sam went with him.

“How exactly do you make a snowball?” she asked sweetly. Too sweetly.

“You're the one who grew up in Seattle. They get more snow than Florida,” he answered.

“You're the one who owns a cabin in Big Bear.” From a patch where a thin layer had accumulated, she scooped a handful of the white stuff and pressed it like a patty.

“If you throw that at me…”

She tossed it at a tree trunk. “You'll what?”

Spotting another meager drift deeper into the wooded area, Mark beat her there in a couple of strides and snatched up a gloveful of his own. “Return the favor.”

“But I didn't!” Sam grabbed his arm.

“Then I guess I'll have to do this.” He dropped the snow and gathered her close. On the street, an SUV chugged past, but Mark ignored it as he brushed his lips across Sam's cold cheek until he reached the warmth of her mouth.

Her arms twined around him. Through the thick layers of clothing, he felt her heart thrumming to match his own.

Deliciously isolated in a column of their own heat, he enjoyed the lingering taste of Sam's mouth and the naughty flick of her tongue. As her hands smoothed along the back of his neck, she stood on tiptoe and her hips met his.

Desire arrowed through him. He felt as if the entire woods might burst into snow-defying flame. “Think we can make it home?”

“I don't know,” she murmured against his jaw. “Maybe we could just build a snow cave and do it here.”

“Impractical.”

“Then we should…”

“Go,” he finished.

“Fast,” she added.

So they did.

Sam loved the way Mark burst through his usual restraint as he swept her across the cabin and into the bedroom. He tossed his windbreaker onto the floor and, the instant she finished unzipping her jacket, peeled it off, as well.

“Damn boots,” he said, flinging aside his ski cap. “Let's leave them on.”

Sam shook out her hair. “I don't think that's such a great idea. We might streak mud on the…”

Her protest got lost as he tossed her onto the bed, knelt beside her and smoothed up the pink sweater. The feel of his lips against her breasts sent her reeling.

When he released her, Sam curled around to unbuckle his belt and work open his pants. “You don't play around,” Mark said admiringly as he helped her.

“I
do
play around, lucky for you.” She basked in the scent of his aftershave lotion and the powerful sight of his chest as he shrugged off his pullover. If she could just get that zipper down… There!

As he rolled her over, her boots clumped to the floor. Muttering impatiently, Mark kicked off his own. “That
is
better.”

“And so is this,” she said, arching to trace a heated path down Mark's chest with her tongue.

“Incredible.” He broke off in a gasp. She had found her way to his erection.

Sam liked feeling this man grow taut beneath her, knowing he was nearing the edge of his control. Then she lifted her head, and Mark seized the initiative. With a few skillful movements, he stripped off her jeans and brought her down, ready for action. Conditioned by years of caution, Sam nearly reminded him that they ought to use protection against pregnancy, until she remembered that she didn't need it anymore.

And she knew she had no need of any other kind of protection with Mark.

Hot longing spread through her as he joined them with long, lustful strokes. Briefly, he paused to brush back her hair and kiss her. Then he filled her again and again, until Sam lost all awareness of anything but him.

At her fevered urging, he drove into her so deeply that she could feel them both melting into a fiery wave. They crested it as one, pleasure leaping and sparking around them like hot lava.

A soft glimmer bathed them in the cool quiet of the room. “Sam,” Mark began.

Was he going to say he loved her? She felt a touch afraid, a touch hopeful. Maybe she should say it first. Because she
did
love him.

Sam felt the sting of apprehension. Wonderful things had happened today. To put their feelings into words might tempt fate.

She touched a finger to his lips. “Don't talk.”

He nibbled her finger. “Why not?”

Mark wouldn't understand about this silly superstition. “Let's go eat.” She wriggled away from him. Shivering in the chill air, she grabbed for her clothes.

“Earlier, you accused
me
of ducking questions. Why can't I talk?” he demanded.

She might as well get this over with. “Because it's bad luck.”

“What is?”

Maybe he hadn't meant to say he loved her, or that this was the most special moment of his life, or that they belonged together. Perhaps she'd misread the signs, and he'd been on the verge of suggesting they take up clog dancing.

Sam tossed over his pants. “Get dressed, you stud, and quit quizzing me. I'm hungry.”

Aside from a skeptical look, Mark complied without further argument.

Since neither of them felt like cooking, they drove into the town, which early darkness had transformed into a fairyland of Christmas lights. There they discovered a range of cuisines from Italian to Mexican to Chinese, along with mountain-themed names like Lumberjack, Grizzly Manor Café and Himalayan Restaurant. They chose a barbecue place and loaded up on back ribs and fried coconut shrimp.

Being around Mark seemed to involve eating a lot of unhealthy food. Sam couldn't have cared less.

They drove home, lit the gas log in the fireplace, and made love in front of it.

There might be no such thing as perfect happiness, she mused later as she lay in Mark's arms in the loft, with a magnificent A-framed view of pine trees and a brilliantly starry sky. But right now, she couldn't ask for anything more.

 

O
N
S
UNDAY MORNING, THEY MADE
pancakes. Afterward, Mark washed the dishes, while Sam, who'd been reluctant
to disturb her friends earlier, put in a call to check on the triplets.

As far as Mark could tell from eavesdropping, everything was all right with the babies. After a lively discussion of their sleep and eating habits, Sam fell silent, listening.

“He did what?” she cried, and grinned. “You're kidding! One night with the triplets and… Which of you changed your mind?”

Hoping he was right, Mark pointed questioningly to his ring finger. Sam nodded.

So the marriage plans were back on. Mark could hardly wait until she clicked off. “Well?”

“They're engaged again,” she told him. “Lori swears she isn't going to waste time planning a big ceremony. They don't want to wait.”

“But didn't you and Jennifer already buy bridesmaids' dresses? Plus she's got a big family in Colorado.” Last fall, Mark had overheard months of chatter about his nurse's elaborate plans for a church wedding followed by a reception.

“She wants a simple ceremony with a few close friends,” Sam replied cheerily. “Later, she and Jared will throw a big party.”

He finished loading the dishwasher and asked the big question, “Which of them changed their mind about having babies?”

Sam twinkled at him. “You sure you wouldn't rather wait till tomorrow and ask them yourself?”

Mark assumed a bland expression. “You're right. It's no big deal anyway.”

“Of course it's a big deal!” she flared. “That's why they broke up.”

“Then I guess you ought to tell me.”

Sam poured a fresh cup of coffee. “Well…” She took a slow sip, drawing out the tension.

“It must have been Jared,” Mark teased, although he suspected the opposite was true. “He's around babies all day. Getting stuck with them at night, too, must have been too much for the man.”

“Don't be ridiculous! He didn't feel stuck.”

“So it's Lori.”

Sam settled onto the couch. “She says Jared's nothing like her father, who refused to get up at night or even change a diaper. And her parents had six kids! That's why her mother dumped so many child-care duties on her.”

“And she developed an aversion to motherhood. But Connie, Courtney and Colin fixed her, did they?”

“Those munchkins charmed the socks off her. She asked if she could borrow them now and then. I said yes, of course.”

When Mark sat down beside her, Sam nestled against him. He looped an arm around her, careful not to jostle the coffee cup. “After the counseling clinic leaves, we should turn those offices into a wedding chapel. Lori and Jared, Tony and Kate—we've got a full slate of weddings coming up.”

Sam's eyes shone. “We could offer a full-service facility. Get married on the premises, conceive in the fertility suite, and deliver right in the same building.”

“Dr. Tartikoff's keen on innovation,” Mark mused. “He should love it.”

“Dr. Tartikoff?” She looked impressed. “I had no idea we were aspiring that high.”

“Nothing's firmed up yet,” he warned. “In fact, I shouldn't have mentioned it.”

Sam sighed. “Don't worry. I've become the soul of discretion.”

“How long do you suppose that will last?”

“Two to three hours. Or possibly days. I'm in a beatific frame of mind, what with the Christmas party less than a week away.”

At the thought of Christmas, a shadow flitted across Mark's sunlit horizon. He ought to warn Sam that Mrs. Wycliff and her daughter might attend. But if he brought them up now and Sam went nuclear, that would be unfair to Ian, who'd stuck his neck out to invite them.

Besides, no one had confirmed that they planned to be there. Why risk spoiling today's mellow mood?

Instead, he brought up a happier topic. “I spotted a Christmas tree lot on the way up here. We could surprise the triplets.”

Sam set her empty cup on the coffee table. “They're too young to be surprised.”

“No one's too young to be surprised,” Mark assured her. “Birth comes as a big surprise to newborns, believe me.”

“It comes as a shock,” she corrected. “You can only be surprised if you're expecting things to be a certain way in the first place. Babies don't have a fixed sense of how things are supposed to be until roughly 18 months.”

He regarded her in amusement. “I should know better than to argue about child development with a pediatrician.”

“By the way, I'd love to get a Christmas tree.” She extended her legs across his, half sitting in his lap. “We don't have to leave yet, do we?”

“No. I have a much better idea of what we could do this morning,” he told her.

As it turned out, so did she.

 

F
ROM THE TOP OF AN OVERSTUFFED
closet in her house, Sam retrieved a box of ornaments she'd collected, by
chance and by luck, over the years. Rainbow glass globes and glittery stars, shimmering angels, cherub dolls, along with velvet bows and strings of lights. Some had been gifts, others yard-sale finds or impulse buys at post-holiday clearance sales.

Despite their admitted mutual ignorance of tree trimming, she and Mark managed—with advice from the internet—to wedge the tree into a base, fill it with water and prop it upright. Then they hung and dangled ornaments and lights around the aromatic branches. For good measure, they also tacked a strand of colored lights across the front of the house.

The triplets, who'd been fussy in the car, had calmed once Sam got them home. True, their feedings and diaper changes slowed the tree decorating, but she enjoyed the sense that they'd already begun to feel at home here.

The little innocents hadn't a clue that they'd already worked a Christmas miracle, Sam mused as she stood atop the ladder, capping the tree with a giant star. When she and Mark had arrived at Jared's to pick up the babies, Lori had beamed at her fiancé, who'd scarcely stopped touching her while they regaled their two friends with their plans to get married as soon as next week.

Lori still wanted Sam and Jen to be her bridesmaids, and there'd be a small reception immediately following the ceremony. Her list of a few close friends was expanding to include coworkers, and just before Sam left, Lori had mentioned that she would invite her family, after all.

“I don't want to hurt their feelings,” she'd said. “I mean, I only plan to get married once.”

Tearing her thoughts back to the present, Sam descended the ladder. Mark gripped her protectively around the waist and lifted her from the last step to slide her down the length of his body.

“I like the way that feels.” She draped her arms over his shoulders. “Think anyone would notice if we made the most of it?”

Clearing his throat, Mark dipped his head toward their audience arrayed in carriers around the tree. “Let's keep this G-rated.”

“They're too young to tell the difference.”

“Science is always discovering unsuspected aspects to memory,” he murmured. “Do you want them to end up on a psychiatrist's couch forty years from now, explaining why they have strange fantasies involving Christmas trees?”

Sam poked him in the ribs. “All right, then. Stand back.”

He complied. She turned off the overheads, then switched on the tiny lights.

The tree glowed with a display of treasures transformed into fairy gifts. Outside, twilight had fallen, which only intensified the brilliance inside. One of the babies cooed appreciatively. If it was a burp, Sam didn't want to know it.

“Their first Christmas tree,” she said. “Mine, too.”

“You mean in this house?”

“Since I've been an adult,” she clarified. “How about you?”

Courtney began to cry. Without missing a beat, Mark picked her up. “In Florida, my staff gave me a miniature tree that sat on my coffee table. Does that count?”

“No,” she said.

“Then it's the first.”

“We're virgins.”

“I wouldn't put it that way.”

Sam basked in the warmth of his gaze. Who could have imagined two weeks ago that today she'd feel so free and lighthearted?

Must be the spirit of Christmas. And, she conceded as she stole a glance sideways in the dimness, it was because of Mark.

He seemed easy and natural around her and the babies. There was, she supposed, a reserve in him that might always be there, but she'd never wanted the sort of relationship where a couple did everything in lockstep. He could live in his house and keep his schedule, and they could be together when it suited them both.

Things were just fine.

 

T
HE WEEK BEFORE
C
HRISTMAS
always passed a bit slowly at the hospital. Patients avoided elective surgeries and the number of births dropped off slightly. As much as possible, doctors scheduled C-sections before or after the holiday period, when many of them went out of town.

As a result, Mark had the treat of performing extra deliveries. Holding each newborn felt even more special than usual, because of the triplets. This little boy showed a trace of Colin's spunk. That girl appeared worried, like Courtney. And when a small defect presented itself, like Connie's discoloration, he could assure the parents from the heart that they would fall in love with the baby just as deeply.

On Wednesday, Dr. Tartikoff called to discuss ideas for adding fertility center staff and to ask about the timetable for renovating the facilities. Although he hadn't officially committed, he promised to make a decision soon after the first of the year.

Informed by phone, Chandra was ecstatic. “Keep him happy, Mark, whatever it takes.”