Tender Loving Care

“What? And I don’t know what you meant about a picnic, but someone should have mentioned to you that it’s snowing outside.”

“Yes.”

“And this is a workday for you.”

“Yes.”

“And I’m taking the boys home for lunch.”

Poor Zoe, she still didn’t understand. Rafe zipped her into the huge old snowsuit she didn’t want to be zipped into, and had the boys in giggling fits when he had to fold and refold the cuffs to make it even marginally fit. He jammed a hat on her head and tucked in her hair possessively. She didn’t like that either.

“There is a lot of snow outside,” Zoe remarked.

“Hmm?”

“Picnics are for hot summer days. You need ants and lemonade for picnics. You need watermelon. You need sunshine.” It was like trying to explain to a brick wall. “I have lunch all ready for them at home…”

“Boys?” Rafe turned to the children. “Do you want to go home to plain old peanut butter, or do you want to cook hot dogs in the snow?”

On cue, the unanimous verdict was “Hot dogs in the snow! Come on, Snookums!”

She gave in-only because of the boys, of course. Rafe felt a moment’s guilt for using the urchins to win an argument, but it didn’t last long. Over the past week, he’d discovered that she was seriously prepared to play this silly “we can be friends” routine forever. He’d hoped that by defusing a little sexual tension, he could help her build trust and confidence in him, make her see that they had something special between them. But Zoe could apparently hide behind her best perky smiles and keep her distance from him forever if he let her. Which he wouldn’t.

It was a sun-dazzled day. Rafe parked the Jeep just off the road in a stand of snow-laden trees. Just beyond the heavy firs lay a long sloping hill, crusty with the sun’s diamonds and ideal for sledding. He’d found the private retreat months before. Ever since he’d come here, he’d wanted to share it with Zoe.

“Does it strike you even the least little bit that this is slightly nuts?” she asked politely.

It struck him very strongly that Zoe was the most giving woman he’d ever met. As far as he could see, she never took from anyone. Once she realized the kids wanted the picnic, she’d never seriously hesitated. If they wanted the Nile, he figured she’d probably have the river shipped from Egypt. She fussed with things, like putting a spoonful of sugar in his coffee for him when he could obviously do it himself. Bickering kids were herded out of his sight-she thought she was making sure he saw only the best side of the boys. What he saw was that she had the gift of caring for people, smoothing over all the rough spots a person could encounter in a day.

He’d never once caught her thinking of herself. And an example of that was now. From the back of the Jeep, she was loading her arms with the tarp, hot dogs, buns, two thermoses…

“Zoe?” he asked patiently.

She turned back.

“I really think I could carry a little something.”

“I don’t mind-oh, look at them, Rafe!” The boys were making angels in the snow and laughing, all red-cheeked. When her face tilted back toward him, her smile was mystically sweet and her eyes dancing. “How are we going to make a fire in the snow?”

“We aren’t going to do anything. I’m going to make the fire, and you’re going to practice doing absolutely nothing.” He reached up to touch her cheek. She never moved away from his touch; she just looked at him as though he were an overgrown puppy who hadn’t learned to behave himself yet. “You’re here to play,” he informed her.

“That’s all I do, play all day. I can build a fire. If you-”

He took the gear from her and dropped it, then motioned her firmly toward the boys with a forefinger.

She propped her hands on her hips. “What is this macho nonsense? I’m not exactly helpless, you know.”

“Pity,” he murmured.

He was making her darned nervous, and she really had no intention of enjoying herself, but somehow it happened. Cold air burned her cheeks, and snow fell around her like confetti; she should have felt foolish in the oversized snowsuit, but somehow she didn’t. Building the little fire was fun, because they were all part of it; the twins raved over the burned hot dogs and so did Zoe. Rafe had brought one thermos of soup and another of hot cider. Veal cordon bleu and champagne couldn’t have tasted better.

With her fingers wrapped around the cider mug and her legs curled under her, she watched the kids shake branches and chortle when mountains of snow tumbled down on them. At home, she would have been worried about spills and spats. Outside like this, there was nothing to worry about. With Rafe around, nothing bad was going to happen.

“Zoe…”

Her eyes swiveled to meet his across the last of the spitting, bright fire. His snowsuit was open at the throat; he didn’t seem to feel the cold. His smile was warm, and the irony of the situation swamped her. With Rafe, she felt safe. With Rafe, she also felt as if she were sitting on rotten timbers. A logical woman couldn’t possibly feel both sensations in equal measure, and she was extraordinarily grateful when the boys came hurtling toward them.

“When?” Aaron demanded for the fifteenth time.

“I thought you promised to give us a full five minutes to finish our lunch,” Rafe reminded him.

“We’ve given you hours,” Parker said sternly. “We were done with lunch practically yesterday. What’s taking you guys so long?”

“Digestion,” Rafe murmured, but he stood up with a long-suffering expression that made Zoe laugh. “I should have settled for just lunch instead of mentioning the sleds,” he whispered darkly.

“I saw the hill,” she told him.

“It’s long.”

“And both sleds look heavy.”

Her first time down the hill, she tipped over the sled, rolled twenty feet and came up laughing. In seconds, all three males in her life were there to dust her off. The next time, she went down with Aaron on her back, and the third time she took both laughing boys, who insisted they could win a race against Uncle Rafe only if they had “ballast”-a new word for the day, and one they repeated over and over as if it were magic.

“More ballast, Snookums. More ballast!”

“Uncle Rafe’s beating us! If he wasn’t so ballaster-”

On her fourth trek up the hill, she was still laughing, heaven knew why. Snow had crept down her neck, she’d lost her hat and every leg muscle protested the fierce climb. Still, the boys were so obviously happy. Rafe’s hideaway was so crystal-lovely, so private and special. And uncomplicated fun hadn’t been part of her life in so long.

At the top of the hill, Rafe announced, “All right. The big kids against the little ones this time. Parker and I will be on the bottom. Zoe, you climb on top of me, and Aaron, you climb on top of Parker. Last one down the hill is the last one to get cider!”

She should have known. She did know that climbing on top of Rafe wasn’t the wisest of choices, but this was sledding, and they were just playing, and there were pounds of clothes between them.

They took off at a racing speed that sent snow stinging in her face and made her stomach thrill for the ride, but there was suddenly more. There was having to hold on to him, and an awareness of the length of him beneath her. The chemistry that had been on hold suddenly exploded in a burst of exhilaration. Dammit, did she have to love being near him?

“Keel!” he suddenly yelled.

Keel? “What?”

“The trees! Damna-”

As far as she could tell, he deliberately threw her off the sled. She landed on a sun-crusted patch of sheer ice that sent her sliding several feet. When she finally stopped, stars were dancing in front of her eyes in broad daylight. Snow was everywhere-in her mouth, in her hair, in her eyes.

“You’re all right?” Rafe was beside her in seconds. He knelt down and ripped off his glove. Cold, firm fingers brushed the snow from her face and hair.

“I’m…fine.” She thought she was, anyway.