The Rancher's Christmas Baby

Teddy scanned the suggestions. “We should both be drinking our milk and having tea instead of coffee. We’re not supposed to be imbibing alcohol. I’m supposed to be wearing boxer shorts. We should be making love every one to two days, at least during the window of opportunity.”

Smiling, Amy poured two glasses of milk and unwrapped the plate of gingerbread cookies. “I think we covered that last night.”

Teddy grinned. “So we did.” He munched on a cookie and kept reading. “Uh-oh.”

“What?” Amy paused, mid-sip.

“We’re supposed to be using the missionary position.”

“We did.”

“The first time.” The second time they had been a little more adventurous.

“Do you want to try again tonight?”

Amy looked so hopeful that Teddy suddenly feared her disappointment if they didn’t conceive this month. Willing to do anything to give her what she most wanted for Christmas—their baby—he referred to the list of instructions once again and told her practically, “It says here sperm count is higher in the morning than at night. Since this is the end of the window of opportunity…what do you think?” He paused, reading her expression. “Should we wait until morning?”

IT WAS A VALID QUESTION. Thoughtfully posed. Yet Amy felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. All the blossoming romantic feelings—and Christmas spirit—that she had been experiencing, abruptly faded. To be replaced by uncertainty and doubt.

“Sure.” Amy finished the last of her milk in a single gulp and turned away. “I’m a little tired tonight, anyway.”

Teddy came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “We can make love tonight if you want.” Still holding her gently, he turned her to face him. The warmth of his hands transmitted through her clothing to her skin.

“What does the handout say?” Seeing a streak of soot on his chin, she reached up and wiped it away. “Is there a problem if we make love too many times in a certain period?”

She could see he didn’t want to answer.

Aware she needed to know, she arched a brow and waited.

He frowned and admitted reluctantly, “With some men, yes, the information did say that too-frequent lovemaking can reduce the sperm count, but it’s not the case in all men.”

Amy bit her lip, torn between momentary pleasure and their long-range goals. She looked deep into his eyes. “But it could be the case with you.”

He shrugged.

“Then morning it is.” Amy pushed aside her disappointment and tried not to think how much she had been longing for this very moment—when they were alone and could make love again. Morning was just hours away, after all. She’d waited years to have a baby.

In the meantime, she needed to ask him something. “I hope you don’t mind, but I told Rebecca that you and I would babysit for the twins Friday evening so she and Trevor could go Christmas shopping.”

Reaching for another cookie, Teddy grinned. “Sounds fun.”

Amy felt compelled to warn, “She said the twins are a handful right now.”

Unperturbed, Teddy drained his glass. He took her by the hand and led her toward the fireplace. “Most four-month-old babies are, from what I’ve heard.”

“Are you up for it?” Amy settled on the sectional sofa beside him.

“Are you kidding?” Teddy pulled her into the curve of his arm. He pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “It will be good practice for us.”

FOR A SECOND, TEDDY THOUGHT he had made a mistake, putting the science of procreation ahead of the emotional considerations of making love to his new wife. But as they continued to talk and enjoy the evening, Amy relaxed. By the time they hit the showers and went to bed, she was all too willing to let him pull her into his arms and give her a long, leisurely good-night kiss.

Exhausted, content in a way he hadn’t been in a very long time—if ever—Teddy fell immediately into a deep sleep. When the alarm went off hours later, Amy was no longer in his arms. Rather, she was stretched out alongside the edge of the opposite side of the bed.

While he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, she rose gracefully and disappeared into the bathroom. He heard water running, the sounds of her brushing her teeth. Figuring it wasn’t a bad idea to do the same, he waited until she came back, then got up.

When he returned to the bed, Amy was lying on her back, waiting for him, the covers drawn to her collarbone.

The pale pink T-shirt and pajama pants already on the floor let him know she wasn’t wasting any time.

He couldn’t fault her for that. Even though they’d allowed a good hour or hour and a half for the pleasurable “task” ahead of them, there was no sense in wasting precious moments struggling to get out of clothing they weren’t going to need, anyway.

He let his boxers fall to the floor, then lifted the edge of the covers and climbed in beside her. “Good morning, Mrs. McCabe.”

“Good morning,” Amy replied in a voice tight with tension.

Figuring he knew exactly how to relax her, Teddy took her into his arms and began kissing her bare shoulders, the nape of her neck, the shell of her ear, her cheek. As he had expected, Amy’s breath quickened. Her body heated.

Still, he took his time finding her lips with his. Even longer delving into her mouth.

Amy murmured a sound that should have been acquiescence, but wasn’t. She returned his kiss, but instead of the sweet, sure passion of the other night, the exchange was awkward, out of sync.

Figuring maybe they just needed time to wake up, Teddy rolled so he was on his side, bringing her with him via the pressure of his arm on her waist. Flattening his palm on her spine, he brought her closer still. Or tried to—when his hand dipped to the small of her back, instead of curving into him, letting hardness meet softness in that fundamental man-woman way, Amy tensed even more, and drew back slightly.

Teddy tried again, by cupping her breast, but felt her withdraw.

He exhaled, broke off the not-so-great kiss and lifted his head. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

Amy pressed her lips together and wiped the moisture in her eyes away with the back of her hand. She barely met his eyes before dropping her gaze once again. “Nothing.”

“Don’t you like to make love in the morning?” He ran a caressing hand down her bare arm, from shoulder to wrist. “Is that it?”

Teeth raking across her lower lip, she shook her head in mute denial, then sat up, dragging the blankets with her. “It’s… I don’t know. I can’t seem to get in the mood, but I know we should do this so I want you to just go ahead.” She gulped in more air and lay back down.

It was his turn to sit up, only he made no effort to cover himself with the sheet. The ache in his loins was still there, but he could feel his spirits deflating like a leaky balloon. “Amy, I want to have a baby, too, but not unless you’re in the mood.”

“I’m trying.” Sudden tears trembled on her lashes. “Please.” She held out her arms to him. “Let’s just do it.”

Teddy lay back down beside her. Once again, he gave it his all. Once again it didn’t seem to make a damn bit of difference.

“DON’T YOU LOOK LIKE YOU’VE lost your best friend,” Ed said when he walked into the Laurel Valley Ranch greenhouse, several hours later.

No kidding, Amy thought.

Her and Teddy’s planned morning lovemaking session couldn’t have been more of a disaster had the bed collapsed beneath them.

She never had been able to relax.

Teddy had been concerned, hurt and frustrated.