Christmas at White Pines

as a kid, as well as an entire litter of kittens when the mother’d been killed. One glance into Angela’s darkening expression told him he was going to have to do better than that and fast.
“Chester,” he muttered in a sudden burst of inspiration. When the old goat had wandered into the path of a mean-spirited bull, Luke had wound up nursing him with a baby bottle for months while he recovered. Where the hell had he put the bottle?
Angela whimpered a protest at the delay.
“Shhh, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be just dandy,” he promised as he yanked open every single cupboard door in the kitchen. Consuela had the whole place so organized that a single old baby bottle should have stood out like a sore thumb. If it was there, though, he couldn’t find it, which meant it was probably out in the barn. He couldn’t very well take the baby out there looking for it.
“Damn!” he muttered under his breath.
Huge tears spilled down the baby’s cheeks. Obviously she sensed that his plan was falling apart. Any second now she was clearly going to make her impatience known with angry, ear-splitting screams.
“Hey,” Luke soothed. “Have I let you down yet?”
Spying Consuela’s rubber gloves beside the sink, he had another flash of inspiration. He snatched them up, put another pot of water on to boil, then tossed the gloves in to sterilize them. He found a sewing kit in a drawer, extracted a needle and tossed that in as well.
So far, so good, he reassured himself. The problem came when he judged everything to be sterile. He couldn’t poke a hole in one of the glove’s fingers and then fill it with warm water while still holding the baby. He grabbed a roasting pan that looked to be about the right size, padded it with a couple of clean dish towels and settled the baby onto the makeshift bed. Judging from the shade of red that her face turned, she was not happy about being abandoned.
“It’s only for a minute,” he promised her as he completed the preparations by tying a bit of string tightly around the top of the glove. He eyed the water-filled thumb of the glove with skepticism, waiting for the contents to gush out, but it appeared the hole he’d made was just right. He held it triumphantly where Angela could see it. “There! Now didn’t I tell you we could manage this? We’re a hell of a team, angel.”
He picked her up, then sank onto one of the hard kitchen chairs and offered her the improvised bottle. Her mouth clamped on it eagerly and within seconds she was sucking noisily. Luke regarded her with pride.
“You are brilliant,” he applauded. “Absolutely the smartest baby ever born.”
“You’re pretty smart yourself,” a sleepy—and damnably sexy—voice commented.
Luke’s heart slammed against his ribs. He refused to look up, refused to permit himself so much as a single glance at the tousled hair or bare legs or full, swollen breasts he’d dreamed about too many times to count.
Unfortunately Jessie pulled out a chair smack in his line of vision. She was still wearing his shirt, which came barely to mid-thigh. Her shapely legs were in full view. How many times had he envisioned those legs clamped around him as he made love to her? Enough to condemn his spirit to eternal hell, no doubt about it.
“Feeling rested?” he inquired huskily, keeping his eyes determinedly on the baby he held.
“Some. When did the baby wake up?”
“About a half hour ago. She was hungry.”
“So I see.”
He could feel a dull, red flush climbing into his cheeks. “I didn’t want to wake you. I figured we could manage. It gave me a chance to test that theory I read. Seems to be working. She likes it.”
“I’m impressed.”
He stood so suddenly that the makeshift bottle slid from Angela’s mouth. She protested loudly. Luke shoved both baby and water into Jessie’s arms.
“I have work to do.” There was no mistaking the sudden expression of dismay in Jessie’s eyes, the flicker of hurt at his harsh tone. He managed to grit out a few more words before fleeing. “Help yourself to whatever you need. I’ll be in my office.”
“Luke, you don’t have to run off,” she said quietly.
Something in her tone drew his gaze back to her face. The longing he read there shook him more than anything that had happened so far. “Yes, I do,” he said tightly.
“Please, I’d like the company.”
“No.” He practically shouted the word as he bolted.
Her expression stayed with him. Had it truly been longing, he wondered to himself when he was safely away from the kitchen, a locked oak door between him and temptation. Surely he’d been mistaken. No sooner had he reached that conclusion than he cursed himself for a fool. Of course, Jessie was yearning for something right now, but not for him.
No, he told himself sternly, that look had been meant for her husband. It was only natural at a time like this that she would be thinking of Erik, missing him, wishing that he were the one beside her as she fed their first precious baby. Luke was nothing more than a poor substitute.
There was only one way he could think of to keep from making another dangerous mistake like that one. He had to stay inside this room with the door securely locked...and temptation on the other side of it.

4
Unfortunately, temptation didn’t seem inclined to stay out of Luke’s path. Only one person could be tapping on his office door not an hour after he’d stalked off in a huff and left her all alone with her baby in the kitchen. Since that display of temper obviously hadn’t scared her off, he wondered if she’d have sense enough to take the hint and go away if he didn’t answer. He waited, still and silent, listening for some whisper of movement that would indicate she’d retreated as he desperately wanted her to do.
“Luke?” Jessie called softly.